Bob Dylan
Good as I Been to You

So, there was this friend of ours that we called Giorgio the Capitano Jackson.
He always lived in that borderline area of legality made of poverty, impulsive actions, odd jobs, and grand parties.
Never having felt shame or fear of anything, he has always inspired my deepest gratitude.
It's a point of honor for me to be considered his friend, especially since a slow marginalization process against him started by those lice-infested who dub themselves "the normals".

You know when Nello sings:

I mean was he a heavy doper
or was he just a loser?
He was a friend of yours.
What do you mean,
he had bullet holes
in his mirrors?

There you go.

If I ever had to think of a type of person who, besides Dylan, could be a credible interpreter of these songs, I can't think of anyone but him.
Of course, courage can only be born from poverty and marginalization.
Certain passions can only be lived as an outsider.
Certain envies can only be stirred by someone who has nothing.
Only someone who has been an outlaw can be an empathetic judge.

Anyway, just to avoid being accused of only talking about my own stuff, I will elaborate a bit on this album trying to be as didactic as possible.

It happens that in the early '90s even someone like Dylan got tired of producing crap.
It happens that at a certain point even the most prolific of artists realizes that they can no longer raise the bar of innovation.
In these cases, a lot of people go back home, taking refuge in those sweet reactionary pleasures that remind us of our childhood.
But not all these people go by the name of Bob Dylan.

Because you can say anything about him (and in fact, everything has been said, and this only attests to how boundless his talent is) except that he hasn't truly and sincerely loved his masters in a visceral way.
So in the early '90s, Bob undertakes this journey of returning home which constitutes to this day the latest expression of his art.
This "Good as I Been to You" is the first step of this journey.
It's a very simple voice and guitar album where he tackles a dozen timeless songs, most of which straddle the 19th and 20th centuries.

I personally am sometimes capable of being moved by this kind of songs.
They have that rustic simplicity that I only fleetingly glimpsed in my early years when I was being raised by timeless people, and my hands smelled of dirt. They exude a humanity now extinct and a will to live that only those who have to fight every day to survive could have known.

Absurd love stories ("Canadee-i-o"), fierce revenges ("Frankie & Albert," "Jim Jones"), poverty ("Hard Times," "Diamond Joe"), boasts as I've been told were once used ("Arthur McBride").
The never too celebrated desire to screw up one's life and escape towards a horizon of uncertainties ("Blackjack Davey").
A very sweet love song like "Tomorrow Night."

In this album and in its twin from the following year, Dylan cleans house.
And he prepares for that sensational masterpiece that will put him decisively back on the map.