Bob Dylan – The French Girl Review

Françoise Hardy remains one of the many artists who has influenced Bob Dylan. She, along with Joan Baez and Woody Guthrie, remains an important figure in a crucial time of his songwriting. She is who inspired the poetry from Dylan, a curse or curiosity, depending on your feelings toward Tarantula. Whatever the case, her impact is felt and still so when listening to those words and works from Dylan. The French Girl is, inevitably, about Hardy and the relationship between her and Dylan, or at least it is when he performs it. He didn’t write this wonderful song but, like any great cover, the influence of the artist on stage gives life to a new meaning. A track seemingly lost to time and yet revitalised around the release of The Basement Tapes Complete, an official Bootleg Series release from Dylan. Unearthing the other remnants of this treasure trove is a sweet experience, and so too is hearing the alternate versions of The French Girl. This one, taken from when Dylan toured with Grateful Dead, is a momentous occasion.  

Dylan and The Dead is almost always a magnificent pairing. Cast aside their self-titled release and move away from those studio dribbles. Their live shows around that dud, the bootleg compilations found elsewhere and the re-recordings of The French Girl to follow The Basement Tapes sessions, are magnificent. The original version of The French Girl may be charming but Dylan in a mood of reflection, backed by some staggering guitar work from Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir, is the best way to experience it. Close encounters with Hardy still sound as though they hurt and Dylan navigates those winding roads fifteen years on from first travelling them. Though it would not be until Rough and Rowdy Ways that Dylan would truly invest time in reflecting on the past for a full project, snippets of his power can be heard on the way to his 2020 release.  

The French Girl remains a magnificent piece of his discography – as clear a tribute to Hardy as it is a mourning of the relationship which never occurred. Alleged love letters become a moment of truth on this version of The French Girl. What The Dead gives Dylan here is an instrumental build. Sounding like he was ready to shy away from it, Weir and Garcia move him on, with sentimentality tinged on the Bill Kreutzman drums, egging him on like excited schoolboys hoping for a fall. Yet the instrumental feeling, the tone of romance and reflection taken on by Grateful Dead members here, is satisfying. It gives Dylan an honesty and a new flourish which he has shied away from in releases of the time.  

Superior to The Basement Tapes’ version, that much is certain. In part thanks to The Dead and their instrumental brilliance, but also in the further study and break from the words. Dylan gives himself fifteen years to understand the feeling, the atmosphere still present on these lyrics, and comes through with a sentimental, open experience. The French Girl is, in its form with Grateful Dead in the mix, a masterclass. Compare this with The Basement Tapes’ edition and it is, simply, a no-brainer. A clearer tape, sharper instrumentals and a moved experience for Dylan, from Dylan. That is not to say the Bootleg Series rendition does not showcase those moments, but consider the context of Dylan’s writing in the 1980s, and the revisit to his pool of brilliant 1960s works rings through with a greater purpose.