Another Side of Bob Dylan (1964)
Album Info
Produced by Tom Wilson
Cover Photo: Sandy Speiser
Some Other Kinds Of Songs . . .
Poems by Bob Dylan
baby black's
been had
ain't bad
smokestacked
chicken shacked
dressed in black
silver monkey
on her back
mammy ma
juiced pa
janitored
between the law
brothers ten
rat-faced
gravestoned
ditch dug
firescaped an' substroked
choked
baby black
hits back
robs, pawns
lives by trade
sits an' waits on fire plug
digs the heat
eyes meet
picket line
across the street
head rings
of bed springs
freedom's holler
you ask of order
she'd hock
the world
for a dollar an' a quarter
baby black
dressed in black
gunny sack
about t' crack
been gone
carry on
i'm givin' you
myself t' pawn
__________
for franoise hardy
at the seine's edge
a giant shadow
of notre dame
seeks t' grab my foot
sorbonne students
whirl by on thin bicycles
swirlin' lifelike colors of leather spin
the breeze yawns food
far from the bellies
or erhard meetin' johnson
piles of lovers
fishing
kissing
lay themselves on their books. boats.
old men
clothed in curly mustaches
float on the benches
blankets of tourist
in bright red nylon shirts
with straw hats of ambassadors
(cannot hear nixon's
dawg bark now)
will sail away
as the sun goes down
the doors of the river are open
i must remember that
i too play the guitar
it's easy t' stand here
more lovers pass
on motorcycles
roped together
from the walls of the water then
i look across t' what they call
the right bank
an' envy
your
trumpet
player
__________
"i could make you crawl
if i was payin' attention"
he said munchin' a sandwich
in between chess moves
"what d' you wanna make
me crawl for?"
"i mean i just could"
"could make me crawl"
"yeah, make you crawl!"
"humm, funny guy you are"
"no, i just play t' win,
that's all"
"well if you can't win me,
then you're the worst player
i ever played"
"what d' you mean?"
"i mean i lose all the time"
his jaw tightened an' he took
a deep breath
"hummm, now i gotta beat you"
straight away an' into the ring
juno takes twenty pills an'
paints all day. life he says
is a head kinda thing. outside
of chicago, private come down
junkie nurse home heals countless
common housewives strung out
fully on drugstore dope, legally
sold t' help clean the kitchen.
lenny bruce shows his seventh
avenue hand-made movies, while a
bunch of women sneak little white
tablets into shoes, stockings, hats
an' other hidin' places. newspapers
tell neither. irma goes t' israel
an' writes me that there, they
hate nazis much more 'n we over here
do. eichmann dies yes, an' west
germany sends eighty-year-old
pruned-out gestapo hermit off t'
the penitentiary. in east berlin
renata tells me that i must wear
tie t' get in t' this certain place
i wanna go. back here, literate
old man with rebel flag above
home sweet home sign says he won't
vote for goldwater. "talks too
much. should keep his mouth shut"
i walk between backyards an' see
little boy with feather in his hair
lyin' dead on the grass. he gets
up an' hands feather t' another
little boy who immediately falls
down. "it's my turn t' be the good
guy . . . take that, redskin" bang bang.
henry miller stands on other side
of ping pong table an' keeps
talkin' about me. "did you ask
the poet fellow if he wants
something t' drink" he says t'
someone gettin' all the drinks.
i drop my ping pong paddle
an' look at the pool. my worst
enemies don't even put me down
in such a mysterious way.
college student trails me with
microphone an' tape machine.
what d' you think a the communist
party? what communist party?
he rattles off names an' numbers.
he can't answer my question. he
tries harder. i say "you don't
have t' answer my question" he
gets all squishy. i say
there's no answer t' my question
any more 'n there's an answer t'
your question. ferris wheel runs
in california park an' the sky trembles.
turns red. above hiccups an' pointed
fingers. i tell reporter lady that yes
i'm monstrously against the house
unamerican activities committee
an' also the cia an' i beg her please
not t' ask me why for it would take
too long t' tell she asks me about
humanity an' i say i'm not sure
what that word means. she wants me
t' say what she wants me t' say. she
wants me t' say what she
can understand. a loose-tempered fat
man in borrowed stomach slams wife
in the face an' rushes off t' civil
rights meeting. while some strange
girl chases me up smoky mountain
tryin' t' find out what sign i am.
i take allen ginsberg t' meet fantastic
great beautiful artist an' no trespassin'
boards block up all there is t' see.
eviction. infection gangrene an'
atom bombs. both ends exist only
because there is someone who wants
profit. boy loses eyesight. becomes
airplane pilot. people pound their
chests an' other people's chests an'
interpret bibles t' suit their own
means. respect is just a misinterpreted word
an' if Jesus Christ himself came
down through these streets, Christianity
would start all over again. standin'
on the stage of all ground. insects
play in their own world. snakes
slide through the weeds. ants come an'
go through the grass. turtles an' lizards
make their way through the sand. everything
crawls. everything . . .
an' everything still crawls
__________
jack o'diamonds
jack o'diamonds
one-eyed knave
on the move
hits the street
sneaks. leaps
between pillars of chips
springs on them like samson
thumps thumps
strikes
is on the prowl
you'll only lose
shouldn't stay
jack o'diamonds
is a hard card t' play
jack o'diamonds
wrecked my hand
left me here t' stand
little tin men play
their drums now
upside my head
in the midst of cheers
flowers
four queens
with pawed out hearts
make believe
they're still good
but i should drop
fold
an' dean martin should apologize
t' the rolling stones
ho hum
weird tablestakes
young babies horseback ride
their fathers' necks
two dudes in hopped-up ford
for the tenth time
have rolled through town
it's your turn baby t'
cut the deck
on you're goin' under
stayed too long
chinese gong
down the way
says jack o'diamonds
(a high card)
jack o'diamonds
(but ain't high enough)
jack o'diamonds
is a hard card t' play
jack o'diamonds used t' laugh at me
now wants t' collect from me
used t' be ashamed of me
now wants t' walk 'long side of me
jack o'diamonds
one-armed prince
wears but a single glove
as he shoves
never loves
the moon's too bright
as he's fixed mirrors
'round the room at night
it's hard t' think
there's probably somethin'
in my drink
should pour it out
inside the sink
would throw it in his face
but it'd do no good
give no gain
just leave a stain
jack o'diamonds
an' all his crap
needs some acid
in his lap
what hour now
it feels late somehow
my hounddog bays
need more ashtrays
i can't even remember
the early days
please don't stay
gather your bells an' go
jack o'diamonds
(can open for riches)
jack o'diamonds
(but then it switches)
a colorful picture but
beats only the ten
jack o'diamonds
is a hard card t' play
jack o'diamonds stays indoors
wants me t' fight his wars
jack o'diamonds is a hard card t' play
never certain. in the middle
commentin' on the songs of birds
chucklin' at screamin' mothers
jack o'diamonds drains
fish brains
raffles what's left over
across the table
t' little boy card sharks
who just sat down
t' get off their feet
bad luck run's all in fun
it's your choice. your voice
you choose
you lose
run for cover
hallaluyah
you choose t' lose
take yourself
disappear
jack o'diamonds
(a king's death)
jack o'diamonds
(at the ace's breath)
jack o'diamonds
is a hard card t' play
__________
run go get out of here
quick
leave joshua
split
go fit your battle
do your thing
i lost my glasses
can't see jericho
the wind is tyin' knots
in my hair
nothin' seems
t' be straight
out there
no i shan't go with you
i can't go with you
on the brooklyn bridge
he was cockeyed
an' stood on the edge
there was a priest talkin' to him
i was shiftin' myself around
so i could see from all sides
in an' out of stretched necks
an' things
cops held people back
the lady in back of me
burst into my groin
"sick sick some are so sick"
like a circus trapeze act
"oh i hope he don't do it"
he was on the other side of the railin'
both eyes fiery wide
wet with sweat
the mouth of a shark
rolled up soiled sleeves
his arms were thick an' tattooed
an' he wore a silver watch
i could tell at a glance
he was uselessly lonely
i couldn't stay an' look at him
i couldn't stay an' look at him
because i suddenly realized that
deep in my heart
i really wanted
t' see him jump
(a mob. each member knowin'
that they all know an' see the same thing
they have the same thing in common.
can stare at each other in total blankness
they do not have t' speak an' not feel guilty
about havin' nothing t' say. everyday boredom
soaked by the temporary happiness
of that their search is finally over
for findin' a way t' communicate a leech cookout
giant cop out. all mobs i would think.
an' i was in it an' caught by the excitement of it)
an' i walked away
i wanted t' see him jump so bad
that i had t' walk away an' hide
uptown uptown
orchard street
through all those people on
orchard street
pants legs in my face
"comere! comere!"
i don't need no clothes
an' cross the street
skull caps climb
by themselves out of manholes
an' shoeboxes ride
the cracks of the sidewalk
fishermen --
i've suddenly been turned into
a fish
but does anybody
wanna be a fisherman
any more 'n i
don't wanna be a fish
(swingin' wanda's
down in new orleans
rumbles across
brick written
swear word
vulgar wall
in new york city)
no they can't make it
off the banks of their river
i am in their river
(i wonder if he jumped
i really wonder if he jumped)
i turn corner
t' get off river
an' get off river
still goin' up
i about face
an' discover
that i'm on another river
(this time. king rex
blesses me with plastic beads
an' toot toot whistles
paper rings an' things.
royal street.
bourbon street
st. claude an' esplanade
pass an' pull
everything out of shape
joe b. stuart
white southern poet
holds me up
we charge through casa
blazin' jukebox
gumbo overflowin'
get kicked out of colored bar
streets jammed
hypnotic stars explode
in louisiana murder night
everything's wedged
arm in arm
stoned galore
must see you in mobile then
down governor nichel
an' gone)
ok i can get off this river too
on bleeker street
i meet many friends
who look back at me
as if they know something
i don't know
rocco an' his brothers
say that some people
are worse hung up than me
i don't wanna hear it
a basketball drops through
the hoop
an' i recall that the
living theater's been busted
(has the guy jumped yet?)
intellectual spiders
weave down sixth avenue
with colt forty-fives
stickin' out of their
belly buttons
an' for the first time
in my life
i'm proud that
i haven't read into
any masterpiece books
(an' why did i wanna see that
poor soul so dead?)
first of all two people get
together an' they want their doors
enlarged. second of all, more
people see what's happenin' an'
come t' help with the door
enlargement. the ones that arrive
however have nothin' more than
"let's get these doors enlarged"
t' say t' the ones who were
there in the first place. it follows then that
the whole thing revolves around
nothing but this door enlargement idea.
third of all, there's a group now existin'
an' the only thing that keeps them friends
is that they all want the doors enlarged.
obviously, the doors're then enlarged
fourth of all,
after this enlargement
the group has t' find
something else t' keep
them together or
else the door enlargement
will prove t' be
embarrassing
on fourteenth street
i meet someone
who i know in front
wants t' put me
uptight
wants me t' be on
his level
in all honesty
he wants t' drag
me down there
i realize gravity
is my only enemy
loneliness has clutched
hands an' squeezes you
into wrongin' others
everybody has t' do things
keep themselves occupied
the workin' ones
have their minds on
the weekends
victims of the system
pack movie theaters
an' who an' of what
sadistic company is he
from that has the right
t' condemn others as trivial
whose fault
an' who really is t' blame
for one man carryin' a gun
it is impossible that
it's him
slaves are of no special color
an' the links of chains
fall into no special order
how good an actor do you have to be
and play God
(in greece, a little old lady
a worker lady
looks at me
rubs her chin
an' by sign language asks
how come i'm so unshaven
"the sea is very beautiful here"
i reply
pointin' t' my chin.
an' she believes me
needs no other answer
i strum the guitar
she dances
laughs
her bandana flies
i too realize that
she will die here
one the side of this sea
her death is certain here
my death is unknown
an' i come t' think that
i love her)
i talk t' people every day
involved in some scene
good an' evil are but words
invented by those
that are trapped in scenes
on what grounds are the
grounds for judgment
an i think also
that there is not
one thing anyplace
anywhere that makes any
sense. there are only tears
an' there is only sorrow
there are no problems
i have seen what i've loved
slip away an' vanish. i still
love what i've lost but t' run
an' try t' catch it'd
be very greedy
for the rest of my life
i will never chase a livin' soul
into the prison grasp
of my own self-love
i can't believe that i have
t' hate anybody
an' when i do
it will only be out of fear
an' i'll know it
i know no answers an' no truth
for absolutely no soul alive
i will listen t' no one
who tells me morals
there are no morals
an' i dream a lot
so go joshua
go fit your battle
i have t' go t' the woods
for a while
i hope you understand
but if you don't
it doesn't matter
i will be with you
nex' time around
don't think about me
i'll be ok
just go ahead out there
right out there
do what you say
you're gonna do
an' who knows
someday
someone might even
write
a song
about you
__________
i used t' hate enzo
i used t' hate him
so much that i could've killed him
he was rotten an' ruthless
an' after what he could get
i was sure of that
my beloved one met him
in a far-off land
an' she stayed longer there
because of him
i croaked with exhaustion
that he was actually makin' her happy
i never knew him
sometimes i would see him
on my ceilin'
i could've shot him
the rovin' phony
the romantic idiot
i know about guys for
i myself am a guy
poison swings its pendulums
with a seasick sensation
an' i used t' want t' trample on him
i used t' want t' massacre him
i used t' want t' murder him
i wanted t' be like him so much
that i ached
i used t' hate enzo
__________
michelangelo would've wept
if he saw but once where charlie slept
(whoa, charlie, i'm afraid you've stepped
beyond the borders of being kept)
what price what price what price disgrace
for sleepin' on a cherub's face?
__________
an amazon chick
with an amazin' pancho villa face
thumb out on highway
stands in the boilin' sun
countin' cars go by
zoom
catch that
u-turn
watch truck
yes i knew zapata well
some of my friends
my very best
have even looked
like the japanese
at certain times
i myself think they're
grand . . . make great radios
do you ever see liz taylor
down there
pack is heavy
there is ink
runnin' down its dusty straps
amarillo
ain't far
am going there too
won't need floor scrubbed
voice dubbed
or anything
won't need anything
a place fumbles in the sky
must make it t' trinidad
tonight
a flyin' saucer texan
covered in cuff links
ate his steak for breakfast
an' now his car radiator
has blown up down the road
back here, a sixty-three
mercury convertible
crashes into girl
an' ten birds
just crossed
the colorado border
__________
johnny (little johnny)
with his father's hammer
nailed five flies
t' the kitchen window
trapped baby bumblebees
in orange juice bottles
rib whipped his
younger brother
an' stuck his sister's hand
in the garbage disposal
pleasin' johnny
dad's football star
named all the girls
that did it
he did
an' never knew a
one that didn't
bruiser johnny
sore loser johnny
bad in math
but his parents fixed it
got too drunk in bars
an' his parents fixed
that too
lovin' johnny
crew-cut johnny
well molded
clean lived in
something his parents
could be proud of
no matter what the
cost to him
a structure of a manly duckling
but his parents
couldn't buy him
into the college
where he wanted t' go
genius johnny
poutin' johnny
punchin' johnny
crashed his
here son have a car good boy
cadillac into
a couldn't care less
railroad bridge
his parents supported him still
they bought new hankies
an' johnny got lots of flowers
an' so as spoked prongs
pierce from perilous heights
plungin'
through soft pillows,
there IS a sound
that rings
no praise
no praise
but you must be
aware of poor johnny
t' hear it
__________
you tell me about politics
this that
you speak of rats.
geese. a world of peace
you stumble stammer
pound your fist
an' i tell you there are no politics
you swear
tell me how much you care
you cheat the lunch counter man
out of a pack of cigarettes
an' i tell you there are no politics
you tell me of goons'
graves. ginks an' finks
an' of what you've read
an' how things should be
an' what you'd do if . . .
an i say someone's been
tamperin' with your head
you jump
raise your voice
an' gyrate yourself
t' the tone of principles
your arm is raised
an' i tell you there are no politics
in the afternoon you run
t' keep appointments
with false lovers
an' this leaves you
drained by nightfall
you ask me questions
an' i say that every question
if it's a truthful question
can be answered by askin' it
you stomp
get mad
i say it's got nothin' t' do with
gertrude stein
you turn your eyes
t' the radio
an' tell me what a
wasteland exists in television
you rant an' rave
of poverty
your fingers crawl the walls
the screen door leaves black marks
across your nose
your breath remains on
window glass
bullfight posters hang crooked above your head
an' the phone rings constantly
you tell me how much i've changed
as if that is all there is t' say
out of the side of your mouth
while talkin' on the wires
in a completely different
tone of voice
than you had a minute ago
when speakin' t' me about something else
i say what's this about changes?
you say "let's go get drunk"
light a cigarette
"an' throw up on the world"
you go t' your closet
mumblin' about the phoniness of churches
an' spastic national leaders
i say groovy but
also holy hollowness too
yes hollow holiness
an' that some of my best friends
know people that go t' church
you blow up
slam doors
say "can't no one say nothin' t' you"
s say "what do You think?"
your face laughs
you say "oh yeeeeeaah?"
i'm gonna break up i say
an' reach for your coat
'neath piles of paper slogans
i say your house is dirty
you say you should talk
your hallway stinks as
we walk through it
your stairs tilt drastically
your railing's rotted
an' there's blood at the
bottom of your steps
you say t' meet bricks with bricks
i say t' meet bricks with chalk
you tell me monster floor plans
an' i tell you about a bookie shop
in boston givin' odds on the presidential
race
i'm not gonna bet for a while i say
little children
shoot craps
in the alley garbage pot
you say "nothin's perfect"
an' i tell you again
there are no
politics
__________
high treachery sails
unveils
its last wedding song
bang sing the bells
the low pauper's prayer
rice rags in blossom
blow in a fleet
ribbons in the street
white as a sheet
(a Mexican cigarette)
the people've been set
t' try t' forget
that their
whole life's a honeymoon
over soon
i'm not gettin' caught
by all this rot
as i vanish down the road
with a starving actress
on each arm
(for better or best
in sickness an' madness)
i do take thee
i'm already married
so i'll continue as one
faithful done
ah fair blondy
ye lead me blindly
I am in the gravel
an' down on the gamut
for our anniversary
you can make me nervous
clink sings the tower
clang sang the preacher
inside of the altar
outside of the theater
mystery fails
when treachery prevails
the forgotten rosary
nails
itself t' a cross
of sand
an' rich men
stare t' their
private own-ed murals
all is lost Cinderella
all is lost

Comments
The Other Side Of
The' other side of bob dylan ''is just as good as all the other sides of bob dylan!!!
The real beauty of the album
No Rating
The real beauty of the album is in the way you get to hear what you've felt before. Bob Dylan makes it so personal to himself, anyone can relate to his feelings. But also, almost anyone listening will be able to relate to at least one of the songs with something very specific in mind from their own life. It's hard not to think about a particular person when you hear "It Ain't Me Babe". Anyone who has ever needed advice or given it to a friend dealing with personal tragedy can relate to "To Ramona". "Chimes of Freedom" and "I Shall Be Free No.10" are just plain good songs (although I don't expect everyone to fully appreciate "I Shall Be Free No.10"). "My Back Pages" is for anyone who has ever matured or done the opposite or ever changed without trying to and didn't realize it until later. (It sort of reminds me of A Catcher in the Rye.)
To Ramona
No Rating
I like the part of "To Ramona" that goes:
That hype you and type you,
Making you feel
That you must be exactly like them.
I've had some doing that to me lately - but I can't help but believe that going against the grain is the best thing sometimes. It is much easier to give in, though.
Another Side of Bob Dylan (1964)
This is very different from his previous three albums.
My favourite songs on the album are:
1. Chimes of Freedom
2. It Ain't Me, Babe
3. To Ramona
The January 2007 issue of 'Mojo' rated this album Dylan's 12th best album - I consider it to be his 4th best album. I think it's great!
Ballad in Plain D happens to
No Rating
Ballad in Plain D happens to be my favorite song on this album simply because it is an extremely revealing song. I think this is one of the most straight-forward and honest songs he has ever written. I know it was written about Bob and Suze Rotolo's relationship that was turning sour and the anger he felt towards her sister. Bob later told the media that if he had to take back any song he ever wrote, he would take back Ballad in Plain D because of the way it portrayed Suze as well as her sister. Although it might be a spiteful and vengeful song, I think it came at an important apex in Bob's life. He speaks of sorrow, anger, violence, and first love all in the same breath. It's hard to know how to feel after listening to this one. You have to love the last lines too, "How good, how good does it feel to be free?"And I answer them most mysteriously, "Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?"
It's ok
SLUMDOG
My least favourite of his early work of original songs.
Another Side
Another Side was one of my first ever Bob Dylan albums. the first I had heard of Bob Dylan was The Essential compilation, and compared to the impact that compilation had on me, Another Side was quite a disappointment, it was also a disappointment in comparisson to Blood On The Tracks, the only other album I owned at the time.
With the opening number, I was somewhat taken aback by Dylan's voice. I allowed myself to overlook at first how it wasn't so easy on my ears as other singers I'd heard, including himself about a decade later, but I listened to the lyrics, and allowed myself to accpet that this is how Dylan was near the start and that soon he'd develop vocally into the Dylan we hear on his next album.
All I Really Want To Do made me somewhat astonished at how well this guy could write a four minute song around the same basic lyrical idea. The song tires a little towards the end, perhaps a verse or two too long? I enjoyed this opener nonetheless. The second track certainly shows Bob spreading his wings a little, musically, with a touch of piano, an interesting addition.
The album continues with generally so-so numbers, not entirely memorable, except perhaps for Chimes Of Freedom, but it doesn't shock me like later songs and statements would. Or even earlier ones. I Shall Be Free - No. 10 and Motorpsycho Nitemare, two comedy songs, which grate on the ear after a while, sandwich the lovely To Ramona, a nice song, definately welcome to my ears after the previous song.
Continuing again, My Back Pages is something a little more memorable, no attemps of hillarity, just a nice little song about moving on. I Don't Believe You has a catchy little tune, I can imagine this one with electric backing, and it would suit it; great harmonica work too. The slow, trudging Ballad In Plain D clears the mind nicely for the final number, a gentle song. It Ain't Me Babe ends the album, and comes across as one of the best songs, a great song about someone owning up to not being up to the task of loving someone, lovely lyrics and the perfect melody to accompany it. A great end to a somewhat disappointing album.
Here's something; Mr. Tambourine Man was written around the time of this album, and it completely baffles me as to why it wasn't included on this album. To me it's among the man's best acoustic numbers, but I'm sure he had his reasons. This album is, like it's name suggests a different album to it's predecessor. A lighter side of Dylan we see here, but I must say I prefer greatly the three albums that came before it. And it would be obvious soon that Dylan would make a huge change, for the better.
Not a great album, the worst in my opinion of his first four folk albums, but it has its moments. 2 Stars.
Dave
My Favorite Folk Album
Another Side of Bob Dylan is my favorite folk album. The songs are excellent. I really like I Shall Be Free #10 since its hilarious and funny, Chimes of Freedom is great, My Back Pages was the first song I ever listened and that was why I got into Dylan. So my favorite songs are My Back Pages, Chimes of Freedom, I Shall Be Free #10, All I Really Want To Do, and Black Crow Blues.
It Ain't Me
Dylan's voice changed on this one. Not sure why, but it's the brazen voice on this album that Dylan continued on Bringing It All Back Home. If you listen carefully, his voice changes again for Highway 61 and Blonde (more nasal).
I like his voice on this album and Bringing It All Back Home best out of all his albums. It's clear, he seems to be able to articulate an emotional appeal best with this voice. It's more refined than on the earlier albums.
But his writing is also more refined, and on this one he shows some maturity.
My favorites here are:
To Ramona
My Back Pages
Ballad In Plain D and
It Ain't Me, Babe.
Dude
One that grew on me over time.
las prisas no son buenas
No hay duda
está lejos de ser una obra maestra
pero desde luego es más que "bueno"
un intento fallido,
un experimento hecho con prisas
o una declaración de independencia, que sé yo
desde luego It ain't me babe es indiscutible
y hay varias que merecen la pena
you guys are too harsh
Better than Times but not as good as Freewheelin". Chimes of Freedom and My Back Pages transcend music and I shall be free 10 is hilarious. An enjoyable album to say the least.
Random Thoughts
Maybe not as strong as the ones it's sandwiched between, but several highlights nonetheless. Gotta love It Ain't Me, Babe.
Dave
Another step forward....
It's a wonder that people were so shocked when Dylan "went electric". He'd hinted at it for some time. Dylan steps away from the protest and simply gets down to business to writing songs. These are what's on his mind instead of what's in the paper. Therefore, this album sounds less like a relic and more timeless.
The last of the folk albums
The last of the folk albums is a little bit different from the others, musically and lyrically. Maybe is easier to listen to, as the music is more simple, but it sounds less serious. As I said in other cmments, I'm not specially interested in that period and don't listen much to it.
Another Side Of Bob Dylan
Another Side is right. Two albums of finger-pointing songs and Bob’s already bored again and ready to move on. Although many critics tend to think of Another Side Of Bob Dylan as an electric album without the electric instruments, since the words have a lot more in common with Bringing It All Back Home or Highway 61 Revisited than they do with The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan or The Times They Are A Changin’. But really it’s another acoustic album. And of Bob’s first four solo acoustic albums, this is my least favorite. I’m not sure why I don’t like it more. It features some of the last of Bob’s out-and-out funny songs (only “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream” really remain until the Traveling Wilbury days), and a lot of them (“Motorpsycho Nightmare”, “All I Want To Do”, and “I Shall Be Free No. 10”). He’s once again attempting to expand his range with the piano-playing “Black Crow Blues”. It’s not that I’m upset that his lyrics have abandoned the sloganeering of Woody Guthrie for the rambling of Jack Kerouac. It’s just that funny songs aren’t as funny; the love songs aren’t as touching. The music isn’t as interesting. “My Back Pages” and “It Ain’t Me, Babe” are good songs, but these performances are so uninspired that it’d take other performances (by say the Byrds or the Turtles) to really show them off. “Chimes Of Freedom” is just annoying. Really, my favorite song on here is the one that everyone (including Bob himself) seems most embarrassed by: “Ballad In Plain D”. First of it’s a great title. The main reason I think everyone doesn’t like it is because it’s too personal, too mean, reveals too many details. They probably are, but I don’t really mind. Not being the kind of person who digs through Bob’s garbage to find out more about his private life, I couldn’t tell. Really they only part of Dylan’s personal life is the part he puts down on record. The rest is really none of my business – or even interest.
So much in one album
No Rating
One of the things I've loved about Dylan's music is his ability to incorporate humor seamlessly into his lyrics, without it coming off as cheesy. Love and Theft and Freewheelin' have always been good examples of this, but this album is also full of fantastic examples of Bob humor. But then there are also incredibly personal songs... painfully, uncomfortably personal. And the ability to combine pain and humor on the same album (and often in the same song) is genius.
Another Side: Symbolist Poetry Under the Radar
In terms of lyrics, Another Side really sneaks in under the radar. The simple and uniform musical accompaniment throughout perhaps distracts you from noticing the complexity of "Spanish Harlem Incident," "Chimes of Freedom" (something of a more user-friendly version of Dylan's War and Peace: "Lay Down Your Weary Tune"), "To Ramona," and "My Back Pages." Bob wrote his first symbolist masterpiece, "Mr. Tambourine Man," about the same time he wrote "Chimes of Freedom," but it wasn't released until Bringing It All Back Home; still, for one with ears, the poetic direction to come is abundantly clear on Another Side.