I remember the Sunday school bus rambling down our street stopping in front of all the houses, patiently waiting for kids on the block to pile in. Our mom always wanted us to go to Sunday school. Probably so she could have a few hours of kid-free peace. We used to go back and forth on wanting to go. If you sat through all the hellfire and brimstone there was a supremely large barrel of candy waiting at the end. The big-bellied Brother would smile and tell us we could scoop us much candy as our little hands could hold, and then he’d thank us for coming.
I didn’t always feel up to Sunday school, though. I would often squat below the window sill hiding from the driver... picturing him peering in through the curtains -- his eyes searching for those that needed God the most -- kids that came from families like mine. The bus would idle for a few minutes and then take off down the street, hunting for more kid prey -- I often wondered if the driver worked on commission (“bring us those young souls, Brother Bob -- we need a lot of em today”).
Since those days, I’ve always equated religion with candy. I haven’t been able to divorce the rush of throwing both my arms into that big barrel of sweets with minutes earlier being warned about the hot fires of hell waiting to burn me for all eternity if I didn’t repent and “do the right thing” -- whatever that right thing is. I didn’t care though -- I was ready to sell my soul for all that bounty.
All through my adolescence in the south, religion was there -- usually sidelined, barely mentioned, not playing a major role in my day-to-day. My mom wasn’t a holy roller type, although she often invited them in when they came knocking (and they did that quite a bit). The undercurrent of this bubbling religiosity kind of sums up a lot of the 70s for me -- the realization that the “free love” 60s was evaporating into recession, war, political corruption, and a rising tide of conservatism. What else was there but God?
Dylan released “Slow Train Coming” in August 1979. I was 14, and had moved away from religion's "sense of wonder". But this was a jolt. Dylan a born-again Christian? He’s Jewish! How could this be?
He recorded Slow Train Coming in 8 days. Along with Jesus, Dylan was admiring the players. He was in awe of Willie Nelson. He told producer Jerry Wexler, "I’ve done the 'word trip', now I want to do the 'music trip'". Wexler brought Dylan to Muscle Shoals and introduced him to Mark Knopfler. Dylan said, "Knopfler does me better than anyone." After hearing the STC songs, Wexler said, "looks like we have wall to wall Jesus here." Bob proselytized Wexler, asking him if he had gotten into the New Testament. Wexler replied, "Bob you’re talking to a 63 year old card-carrying Jewish atheist."
For me, STC is not really about Jesus -- it's about the raving, primal, elemental vocals -- they float eerily into my psyche and become a familiar, yet delirious sense of presence -- a booming reminder of that bus driver peering into the curtains -- peering into my soul. I can hide today, but I can’t hide forever.
In truth, the Christian albums are quintessential pop classics: Knopfler’s rich, nerve-wracked guitar playing is like a sunnier, distortion-free Jesus and Mary Chain, or like some early pre-fifties Chicago blues music. Dylan’s lyrics are at times erratic, vicious, laced with vehement proclamations. Obviously, he’s awakened, and uses the words as his instrument -- there’s guttural blasts of rage and love, and they collide with Knopfler's slavering runs -- they don’t really fit together at times. Dylan’s vocal bursts make him sound like a really “down” son-of-a-bitch on these discs. He’s got this “shine your light” thing going on, really strong. Should make Van be almost ashamed for even trying to "do" religion.
Slow Train Coming, Saved, and Shot of Love: I hear so much and so little here. Infidels too -- it’s really his “fourth” Christian album. He channels Sha-Na-Na, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Astral Weeks, and even Eno. Ringing out the 70’s, these albums are a precursor to the coming conservative revolution. Dylan, not Reagan, set the stage for the right’s rising.
I often complained to my mom about going to Sunday school. I mean, other than the candy, it made me feel real little. I never got the right vibe. She didn’t care -- she just wanted a 4-hour babysitter. And she’s the one that told me I couldn’t buy the Sex Pistols record. I had to get Saturday Night Fever instead. Dylan brought me full-circle with this perfect blast of heathen-hunting music, though. What else could he really do, BUT find Jesus? The Ramones and the Sex Pistols had made him irrelevant. The Ramones were quintessentially American -- taking Dylan’s place, if you will. The difference between Slow Train Coming and the Ramones debut is only three years -- but that gap made Dylan the stranger, the unwanted. I mean STC ended the decade of KISS and Alice Cooper.
I bet Dylan would like these four albums to be in his time capsule. Of all Dylan albums, they capture who he really is and is not -- but more than that, they capture the essence of America at that crossroads in musical time: the rise of punk, the end of anything the 60s really stood for, and the emergence of Reagan. God, the 80s sucked. It’s like Dylan knew the suckiness was coming. He unloaded all this moral blathering, while painfully exposing us for who we really are. Look at us now. These albums are still a part those of us not willing to let go of the feeling that we can live without war -- peace and harmony will reign. Listen to all 8 sides in order. If you get to side 8 without thinking there is a better way -- then you don't "get it" -- maybe go back to those Alice Cooper records.
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