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Bob Dylan remembers the exact moment Jesus Christ entered his life in a way he could not ignore. The physical and emotional tolls of the road had proved exhausting on his 1978 tour. On one particularly drainingexhausting night in San Diego, the singer recalls an audience member tossing a silver cross onstage. Dylan normally wouldnât think twice about this sort of trinketa small, often inexpensive decorative item but felt moved that night to pocket it. A couple nights later in Tucson, once again feeling overwhelmed by the burdens of performing, he reached for the cross and felt a trembling, physical change come over him. As Dylan interpreted it, âThe glory of the Lord knocked me down and picked me up.â While the I-10 from Tempe to Tucson may not exactly be the Road to Damascus, the experience shook Dylan enough to âchange his way of thinkingâ and embrace Christ as his lord and savior. Itâs an awakening that would not only transform Dylanâs personal life but also unmistakably alter the path, for better or worse, of his already-legendary career as a songwriter, performer, and recording artist.
Dylanâs conversion was definitely met by mixed reviews. While some in the evangelical community championed him as their new Danielâthough never to the extent that the folk scene had embraced him as one of their ownâmuch of his fanbase felt alienated by this religious turn. Ironically, many of the same people who had once anointed Dylan their âprophetâ now had little interest in hearing about the singerâs own exploration of faith. In fairness though, the changes seemed drastic. For a time in 1979 and 1980, Dylan staunchlyvery firmly, loyally, or strongly refused to perform the secular songs that had made him famous. And as bootlegsan illegal musical recording, especially one made at a concert capture, those concerts took on the aesthetic of big-tent revivals, with Dylan often proselytizingthe action of attempting to convert someone from one religion, belief, or opinion to another onstage between songs with a reborn zealotâs zeal. It also didnât help that Dylanâs own trinity of Christian albumsâSlow Train Coming (1979), Saved (1980), and Shot of Love (1981)âfell far short of his finest works. However, these records also donât deserve to be omitted or cruelly cast into the purgatory that is the lowest rungsa step on a ladder of online Dylan album rankings. In this charitable season, we can surely appreciate that even one of the spottiest and most maligned eras of Dylanâs recording career still captures moments of powerful songwriting, fearless artistry, and a passion that cannot be denied.
The story of Dylanâs trio of Christian albums begins not some 2,000 odd years ago, but rather a year earlier with the release of Street-Legal in 1978. You could do far worse than characterizing this often-overlooked gem as Blood on the Tracks with saxophones and gospel singers. No, itâs not a religious album. Dylan mentions God only in passing. However, itâs clear that Dylan was tangled up in one shade of blue or another at the time. Despondent over the failure of his experimental film, Renaldo and Clara, and weary from the stresses of multiple knock-down, drug-out custody battles, Dylan and his touring band instead leaned into an expanded pop sound that American audiences, particularly critics, werenât quite ready to embrace. Itâs a record that captures Dylan setting out in a brave, new musical direction as his personal life came crashing down around him. By the time he hit that fateful road to Tucson, Dylan was a troubled man with a heavy heart and a crack R&B band burning a hole in his back pocket. In that sense, itâs far less surprising that Dylan, perhaps with a little nudge from Above, might have found solace, purpose, and renewed strength in the spiritual corner and its musical traditions.
By any measure, 1979âs Slow Train Comingproved a successful baptism into the religious realm. The album went platinum, and Dylan even garnered the inaugural Grammy award for Best Male Rock Vocal Performance. Itâs fair to wonder how many fans who purchased the record really knew they were getting a born-again Dylan. The album art itself, apart from that railroad workerâs suspiciously cross-shaped pick axe, doesnât suggest overtly religious material. Even legendary producer Jerry Wexler and Dire Straits guitarist Mark Knopflerâboth brought aboard to help achieve the recordâs larger funk soundâdidnât realize that they had been conscripted into Dylanâs evangelical army until rehearsing the actual songs. Dylan does indeed remind us over the throbbing funk of hit single âGotta Serve Somebodyâ that weâre all working for someone (âIt may be the Devil / Or it may be the Lordâ), but this choice of master never really felt literal. And doesnât a âslow train cominââ just mean âa hard rainâs a-gonna fall?â Naive as it now sounds, the lapsed Catholic in me could once listen to songs with titles like âPrecious Angelâ and âI Believe in Youâ and hear Dylanâs passion but not âthe message.â If thatâs a common sentiment, then it goes a long way to understanding the recordâs accessibility to a presumably large secular audience. Having Wexler at the helm, Knopfler on lead guitar, Tim Drummondâs legendary bass, and Muscle Shoals horns on call didnât hurt either.
As weâll see, each of Dylanâs Christian albums takes on a decidedly different religious tenor. Nick Cave has described Slow Train Coming as a âmean-spirited⌠genuinely nasty record.â Itâs at the very least cynical. Some of that can no doubt be chalked up to the fervor felt by a recently reborn Dylan. For instance, the flip side of the succor an emotional Dylan draws from on high in the stirring ballad âI Believe in Youâ pits the nonbelievers around him as heathens with pitchforks. Not exactly a neighborly sentiment. Much of Dylanâs message takes a page out of the Book of Revelation, meaning that time runs too short to politely pull punches. The chugging âSlow Train,â filthy-riffing âGonna Change My Way of Thinking,â and horn-driven âWhen You Gonna Wake Upâ all call out the overflowing cesspool of greed, deceit, and corruption found in a wicked world that defies Godâs law; they also point more fingers than Dylan has on both hands. However, nowhere do Caveâs words ring truer than down in the fire and brimstone that fuel the glowing strum of âPrecious Angel.â Not only does Dylan work in the torments found in Revelation 9:6 of those who wonât even be able to escape their suffering through death, but he also prays for the mercy of his own ancestors (âIn their bone-filled gravesâ) who may have picked the wrong spiritual team. To the evangelical, Dylanâs warnings register as dutiful and loving. To the secular listener, they might come across as, well, âmean-spiritedâ and âgenuinely nasty.â Point, Nick Cave.
If Slow Train Coming surprised some listeners with a religious perspective on what couldâve otherwise been Dylanâs Whatâs Going On, then Saved makes zero pretenses as it ascends to the pulpit. The original cover, since restored, features Christâs illuminated hand, blood dripping from a crucifix wound, reaching down to touch the outstretched hands of his followers. Itâs not exactly a subtle image. Critics have dragged this largely forgotten album as preachy, too limited in scope and song structure to be interesting, and a hackjob stab at gospel music.
Saved might also be the best of Dylanâs Christian albums for almost the same reasons. This record knows exactly what itâs trying to be. Itâs Sunday services at a church far cooler than the one your parents dragged you to all those years ago. Dylanâs humming cover of the old country song âA Satisfied Mindâ acts as a call to prayer, a pewful of female gospel singers and clunky piano floating in and out to raise up his assertions. Similarly, the funky call-and-response of closing number âAre You Readyâ feels like a fortifying final reminder of the dayâs sermon before Dylan sends us back out into the regular world. In the interim, he marches us with growing awe through the latter stations of Christâs life (âIn the Gardenâ), invites us to dance in celebration as we praise (âSavedâ), and asks us to consider where we would be without Christâs sacrifice (âSaving Graceâ). Indeed, itâs pedagogical, repetitive, and, yes, even preachy, but along with hoping to stir the soul, sermons are intended to reinforce a message as Dylan does here.
One fair criticism of Saved and other songs from the period considers how Dylanâs writing might suffer as he draws from revealed truth rather than trying to make his own meaning out of human experience. On the grateful âWhat Can I Do for You?â, Dylan even thanks God for answering lifeâs great questions (âYou have explained every mysteryâ). If he had spent more than a few years writing Christian songs, he mightâve fallen victim to these limitations. As it stands, Saved finds Dylan delivering some powerful, if sadly neglected, numbers as he draws inspiration from scripture and borrows from adjacent musical traditions. After the physical elation of âSaved,â âCovenant Womanâ returns us to our seats to cool down as a once hurting Dylan (âbroken, shattered like an empty cupâ) thanks a righteous woman for her guidance. The chorus of this contemplative strummer features one of Dylanâs more moving vocal turns, once again assuring us that born-again Dylan still shoots from the heart. The pummeling âSolid Rockâ later shakes the stained-glass windows and rattles the pews with muscle to match the strength that Christ imbues in his followers. But nowhere does Dylanâs conviction reach greater heights than as he testifies over piano and gospel backing vocals on the adamant âPressing On.â Here, Dylan calls out the doubters and lets all of us know that his heart has truly changed, and thereâs no turning back. Like Saved in general, it might be too much of a sermon for some tastes, but damn if it doesnât make you want to drag your ass back to church this Sunday and throw on a choir robe.
Shot of Love ranks by far as the most perplexing volume of Dylanâs Christian trilogy. It also subtly suggests that Dylan might already have one foot out the door as a strictly religious artist. Most of the gospel elements have been abandoned in favor of a return to a more traditional rock sound. Songs like âHeart of Mine,â featuring no less than Ronnie Wood and Ringo Starr, the reggae-flavored âDead Man, Dead Man,â and the cool breezes of illusive outtake âCaribbean Windâ all hint at the island vibes that would turn up on 1983âs Infidels, Dylanâs ironically titled official return to secular music. Gone are the apocalyptic foreshadowing of Slow Train Coming and the evangelical pageantry of Saved. Instead, Shot of Loveembraces a sort of pop-art Christianity to match its explosive, Lichtenstein-indebted cover art. As suggested by the albumâs title, Dylan has love on his mind here. But not the âWatered-Down Loveâ that too many pursue or the type that could lead one astray (âHeart of Mineâ) if you foolishly let it in. No, Dylan needs that all-powerful âShot of Loveâ for what ails him. But this big, dumb title track, along with a song like âProperty of Jesus,â sounds more like a bumper sticker or an evangelical highway billboard than a true examination of the power of Godâs love. Throw in a song that addresses Lenny Bruce as a Christlike figure, and it gets close to time to line up another type of shot just to swallow this weird album.
Still, for all its peculiarities and lazy evangelical sales pitches, Shot of Love also features some of Dylanâs best songwriting of the â80s. The breezy, affirming âIn the Summertimeâ plants at least one foot in the secular sand with its focus on a cherished human connection that feels no less spiritual than anything spoken of on Saved. Dylanâs harmonica perfectly compliments the proceedings as it gently wafts in and out to guide us through time, love, and memories. âThe Groomâs Still Waiting at the Altar,â criminally left off the albumâs original release, lumbers like a dusty, archaic beast resurrected from the cutting room floor of the Blonde on Blonde sessions. Dylan summons all his gravelly powers as a singer as he spits absolute fire from the doorstep of âClaudetteâ to just east of the Rock of Gibraltar. Outtake âAngelina,â like the previous examples, attempts to straddle the religious and secular worlds. Itâs the type of undefinable song that can morph with each listen but definitely finds a conflicted Dylan trying to reconcile his heart with his faith. âI tried my best to love you / But I cannot play this game,â he sadly concludes. âYour best friend and my worst enemy is one in the same.â Again, thereâs as much drama in this all-too-relatable dilemma of being on different spiritual paths as anything Dylan pulls from scripture. Dylan bids farewell to his Christian era with the absolutely sublime closer, âEvery Grain of Sand.â Itâs a poignant and soul-baring reflection on both the wonder and majesty of creation and a relationship with the numinous that turns inward as much as skyward for answers. Dylan has never penned anything lovelier.
Not even during this profound time in the liturgical year would I expect Dylanâs flock to return to his Christian albums let alone become converted into fans of them. At this point, that feels like a miracle on par with anything youâll find in Christâs string of greatest hits. When we speak of great devotional artistsâpainters, poets, and even composersâwe canât number Dylan among them. While his brief foray into Christian themes matched a deft hand at assimilating different spiritual and musical traditions with an undeniable sincerity and alacrity, this period rarely inspired his true genius as an artist. Still, the generations keep coming, and there are always new stones to turn over in a body of work as sprawling as the one Dylan has amassed and bequeathed. If thereâs anything Iâve learned, itâs that thereâs always a chance to catch a glimpse of a masterful handâin any Bob Dylan album or song just as in every grain of sand. So, hang on to that solid rock this holiday season, and keep a weather eye out for that slow train âcominâ up around the bend.â