Fifty years on, and the golden age of Bob Dylan can, conclusively, end with Desire. That is not to devalue what followed; the likes of Street Legal and Infidels are masterpieces, though not as fondly looked back on by the wider public. After Desire is when critical opinion began to shift on Dylan somewhat, though not to a point of nastiness as Knocked Out Loaded would garner for him. No, the mid-1970s saw Dylan release a trio of worthy albums, starting with Blood on the Tracks and ending with Hard Rain. This two-year period should come as little surprise to Dylan fans, his extensive touring would overlap with failed studio sessions, chance encounters with vital parts of the sound found on Desire, and a series of songs abandoned for a decade. Typical Dylan, fortunately or not, as he would sit on all-time great tracks for years to come. The same goes for Desire, though at least its material, politically charged and romantically engaged, stands up today.
This is the end of Dylan as a popular artist – in the traditional sense, that is. Neil Young and Paul McCartney, too, would drift away from this cultural relevancy even if they were topping charts across the globe. They found themselves with less of a grasp on the world around them and instead looked inwards. Dylan, especially after Desire, would do that. He looks inwardly here, not as much as he did on Blood on the Tracks, but still tethers himself to some tangible, out-there experience which has affected him to the point of comparing it with a life lesson.
It’s not until listening through to Desire again, after so many spins of it on the record player, that the literal title becomes clear. These are songs of desire, whether it’s romance, freedom, or something as simple as what another cup of coffee implies. Those moments of want are the cornerstone of the album. Hurricane is the bold protest song which has Dylan tap into the same style he employed on The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll and Masters of War, but the nuance of stage directions and the flashy, contemporary thrill of Rubin Carter’s struggle is helped on by Jacques Levy. The clinical psychologist who handed The Byrds one of their final hits with Chestnut Mare, and aided Dylan along with many of the tracks found on Desire.
A songwriting collaboration is a rare occasion for Dylan but it sparked what was, at the time, a reason to be optimistic. Blood on the Tracks had been conceived as a morbid piece of work, a stripped-back howl of the heart which was softened after much convincing from Dylan’s brother. Rather than have a rudderless push for what were described by Levy as a “slow dirge” style for Isis, and that feeling could have appeared across the rest of Desire. But it didn’t, and instead the upbeat flow, the collection of instrumental talent found on the album, is a masterstroke that very nearly never came to be. Dylan would merely happen on violinist Scarlet Rivera, who proved utterly crucial to Hurricane and the instrumental tempo and flow of the album. She, above everyone, is the session musician responsible for guiding Desire into this tone, as Levy did with the lyrical contributions.
But those chance encounters and studio additions do not equate to immediate success. Dylan would abandon sessions for Desire, despite a relatively fruitful experience. Abandoned Love was, ironically, cast aside for a decade and replaced with Joey. Lesser-known track Rita May was released as a standalone single, too, though it seems to have flown under the radar. Dylan was his own worst enemy here. Gone was the isolation of Blood on the Tracks and in came a constant studio choice which would, for many releases, unravel Dylan’s sound. Large groups of musicians are present in those early recordings, everyone from Eric Clapton to Emmylou Harris was brought in, the reasons truly unknown. Studio E proved more fruitful, and with less people in the studio and a rewriting session with Levy, Dylan cracked out what would be the tracks for Hurricane. That track list, fifty years on, stands as an empowering collection of all-time great works.
Hurricane is the obvious great track, a protest song which would see Dylan play a benefit concert and press the president into taking some action. It would be a long while before Carter was released, but the act of a protest song, to draw attention to a real and burning issue, shows Dylan was still a bold and unrelenting artist. He would remain so well after the release of Desire, but would lose that instinct which serves him so well between The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan to Desire. Following the protest boom with Isis, the character of doubtful marriage and the tambourine acting as shackles to kick off the perspective of unity as entrapment, is a bold choice. Desire is filled with those instrumental decisions, pushing Dylan that much further into a sound that had evolved in part thanks to The Rolling Thunder Revue.
Where Dylan has always been a master lyricist, the additions made by Levy imply their collaboration is the most important part of Desire. There’s an imbalance at play, the eleven-minute Joey or the rather steady and somewhat predictable harmonica backdrop to Isis, feels like second fiddle material to Levy and Dylan’s writing. What is usually a part of a perfect song is instead profiled, removing some of that subtle magic in the process. Having that focus on the writing, as good as it can be, makes little sense when Levy and Dylan are fooling around with rhyming structure on Mozambique. It’s a necessary break from the heavier material either side, though, and One More Cup of Coffee is that fine balance between heavy material, those stories of lost love, and the lighter charms of what Desire can offer instrumentally.
There are some all-time great songs from Dylan featured on Desire. If it weren’t for Mozambique, the A-side to this 1976 album would be one of the best runs of writing and recording Dylan has ever offered. It would be over a decade until Dylan received the same critical acclaim and wider audience appeal with his work, with Oh Mercy and the subsequent nostalgia hint of the 1990s playing its part in identifying Dylan as a still-relevant cultural commentator. But you need only listen to the likes of Oh, Sister, Joey, or even Romance in Durango, to know that fifty years on from its release, Desire is one of Dylan’s most provocative and evocative pieces of work. Whether the face of God will appear for listeners, as Romance in Durango throws out there, is yet to be seen. But the fact listeners keep returning to Desire is a good indication of that ongoing, intense quality Dylan brought during a considerable period of his career.
