Dylans Double Triumph: A Deep Dive into 'Blonde on Blonde'

Dylan's Blonde on Blonde remains one of his most distinctive albums. With its blend of mystery, majestic, and seductive sounds, this album arguably showcases Dylan's most expansive music to date. This album is a testament to Dylan's versatility, from songs that bear no resemblance to his folk roots to tracks that shimmer with rock and roll lament of a confused America. Dylan described himself as "not around" when the album came out, and this album is full of that "not around "chill - Dylan combines the Texas medicine and gin for a whole album of high-lonesome late-night dread and blues.

The album commences with "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35", one of the most debated songs on the album. Some rate the song as one of the worst of his discography; others say it is one of the best. The song begins with a chaotic medley of instruments, from the drum to the maraca to the trademarked harmonica, all vying for dominance. This clash produces a hauntingly beautiful sound that evokes feelings of simultaneous peace and war, eliciting an eerie atmosphere of displacement yet belonging. These combatting sounds subside as the sparkling piano frills give away to his depressed lyrics, urging listeners to be aware of the cripples and oriental's of the world they live in and how they live.

"Visions of Johanna," the third track on the masterpiece, was an instant hit and one of his most famous songs. Dylan has never sounded lonelier; the song only consists of five verses, but those lyrics make a narrative solely out of ambiance. The enigmatic lyrics, the vibrant articulation, and the disciplined tempo all mixed in with the woody throb and ringing strums of his broken-down vintage guitar. Dylan lyricism steals the show in this track, I have listened several times, and each time, I have realized the greatness of this it. Reading the song as words on a page silences the songs I carry in my head. The lyrics encapsulate a drama taking place; sure, it is about a loss of love, but it is not about how breaking up is hard or even the melancholy associated with someone leaving you. It is a song smothered with the anguish that comes from ending up entwined in the arms of another because they cannot be with the person they truly long to be with, not now, not ever again, and the bleak hopelessness that is found through this experience. It is about the innocent victim who has no idea they are just the rebound or who knowingly accepts it out of their own loneliness. Most importantly, it is about the one who is no longer here but never leaves.

Following this hit single early on in his album is a song that is often forgotten: "One of Must Know (Sooner or Later)." It is a hidden gem, not due to lyrical acumen but rather to the outstanding instrument ensemble that supports his unique voice. Lyrically, One of Us is boring, at least by Dylan's standard. The song is a straightforward and simple apology from one lover to another for some thoughtless mistake made along the way that destroyed what could have been. However, the sound of the song, with its swirling organ and impassioned vocals, is teamed up with a nuanced piano and tasteful guitar fills. The song slowly builds to a driving crescendo each time the chorus is around the corner. The vocals of this song are the defining characteristic, with tremendous charisma that grabs the listener's attention right away and holds it throughout. The way he extends his vowels, especially the "o" and "a," adds camaraderie to the song; it is as if he is comforting all those who have been the recipients of undisputable actions.

The sixth song on the album, "Stuck Inside the Mobile with the Memphis Blue Again," portrays Dylan as more desperate than he has ever been. The nine-verse, seven-minute epic starts with a harmonica swirl that evolves into chicken scratch guitar throughout. The organ fills alternating between sounding like the carnival and a horror film, and the rhythm section stays in the pocket for seven minutes. After all the verses, the harmonica returns to signal the end credit scenes, the music slows down, and all the instruments combine to note the exhaustion and satisfaction of finalizing the recording of the 3-hour studio session masterpiece. The song details the consequences of mixing "Texas Medicines" and "Railroad Gin." at the time, Dylan had highlighted how the 1966 tour had "Almost killed him; it takes a lot of medicine to keep up this pace..." (Bunn, 2015). It seemed like this song was describing Dylan's nightmare existence at the time, but I think the song has a more significant meaning. Remove the medicine from the story; would the nightmare still be there? The answer to this question looms over the entire song in the form of another question: Is this really the end? The state of being stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues is one in which there seems to be no escape; no medicine can deliver a cure for this existence.

At a time when Dylan was writing masterpieces faster than he could release them, Blonde on Blonde still feels like it came out of nowhere, with a sound that he never attempted again, and neither Dylan nor the rest of the world can figure out how that happened. But maybe it is better that we not worry about how he did it but be happy that he was able to.