Perhaps this particular writer doesn’t get it. But it seems to get more and more difficult to be a fan of Bob Dylan. Like Paul McCartney in the 1980s, he just floats in mediocrity secure in the fact that the larger media will give it an average review at the minimum. This collection of Frank Sinatra covers is just another example of this phenomenon.
At least McCartney’s worst offending tracks had some semblance of melody. Dylan tries to put some vocal maturity to this set of “standards” but completely falls flat. And here lies the issue… Standards by definition are songs that are crooned by great singers like Sinatra, not croaked out by a man whose vocal chords ripped in the late 70’s and never returned.
By aiming to take a more stripped and reserved approach, instead of classic orchestral lushness, Ol’ Bob aims to create an affecting starkness that compels the listener. Instead it irritates them to the point of a mental breakdown as the lack of instrumentation at the forefront only serves to accentuate the notes that Dylan completely fails to reach.
In summary, I’ve heard karaoke singers do better covers of Sinatra, drunk, shagging a porcupine and suffering a gunshot wound. To put it simply, give it up Bob and leave us to happy memories of Highway 61 Revisited.
