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Rating: The Dylan of the Eighties, always labeled as the "lesser" Dylan. And to some extent, that may be true, yet I find this album to be a masterpiece.
Sure, the albums of the '60s are revolutionary, the electric trilogy made rock history, and so on. But Infidels - which musically boasts the production and guitar of Mark Knopfler - is the masterpiece of maturity; it is the manifesto of a Dylan now disillusioned: disillusioned with the youthful ideals of his early protest albums, the escape to the surreal and visionary worlds of Mr. Tambourine Man, and the conversion to Christian faith that produced the religious trilogy immediately preceding this album. Infidels is the album where Dylan seems to finally remove all masks and come to terms with himself and the world around him, tackling important themes such as religion, politics, progress, capitalism, and the human condition, with the voice of a mature and disenchanted man, merciless in the portrayal of a ruthless and degraded reality. This is an album that seems easy and light on the surface, but is actually full of content and countless points for reflection.
Take the opening track, the famous "Jokerman": behind an easy and catchy tune lies a sharp reflection on religion and its paradoxes; the protagonist is an enigmatic divine or semi-divine figure (it could be Jesus Christ - or not - but it doesn't matter) who seems to take cruel pleasure in disorienting man while the world sinks into the abyss of war and violence. In the lyrics, Dylan manages to sprinkle an incredible multitude of biblical citations and references with incredible lightness, even going so far - in the end - as to foreshadow the coming of the Antichrist. Not bad for someone who until the previous album sang hymns of praise to the Lord and His redeeming Grace. And now he has much clearer ideas about the religious theme, so much so that he has no qualms about singing - in "License to Kill" - that "the altar [man] prays to is a stagnant pool, and when he sees his reflection he's satisfied". "License to Kill" is perhaps the most bitter song of the lot, where disillusionment takes on the most pessimistic and inescapable tones, in the description of humanity blinded by greed and violence, irreversibly on the path to self-destruction. A humanity where "sometimes Satan comes as a man of peace" ("Man of Peace") and immediately gains followers among men with his affable and seductive ways.
"Neighborhood Bully" and "Union Sundown" deal instead, in a very direct manner (too much?), with themes of burning current interest: respectively, the issue of Israel (for which Dylan was promptly labeled a Zionist) and economic globalization. Both very controversial, they are perhaps the weakest tracks on the album, alongside the closing "Don't Fall Apart on Me Tonight", a typical bitter and suffering love song like Bob has accustomed us to since Blood on the Tracks.
But in my humble opinion, the two brightest jewels of this album are the splendid "Sweetheart Like You" and "I and I".
The first, very sweet, seems like a simple love song, but is something more. The setting is still that of a ruthless and corrupt society, but here, fortunately, there is a way out, represented by this kind of almost stilnovistic angel-woman, this mystical and idealized figure to whom Dylan earnestly appeals: "But what is a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?" Much could be discussed about the identity of this angelic figure who shows the songwriter the way to "the land of eternal bliss": some say it might once again be Christ, given the insistent biblical references in the text as well. But since, in the end, everyone is free to give their own interpretation, I personally feel inclined to support an analysis I read online from a fan who identified her with the Statue of Liberty, and consequently with the personification of Liberty itself for which Dylan claims sweetly and proudly the love, in a world that increasingly tends to stifle and humiliate it. Then again, Maybe Dylan had something else entirely in mind, but I like to see it this way because it reminds me in some ways of that other great masterpiece "Se ti tagliassero a pezzetti" by Fabrizio De André, with its passionate declaration of love to "Lady Liberty, Miss Anarchy" which, incidentally, is just two years earlier. But now I don't want to digress too much.
"I and I", finally, is perhaps the true masterpiece of the album. A sublime intimate piece where the author finally comes to terms with himself. I and I. Robert Zimmermann and Bob Dylan. The man and the artist. The person and the mask. "One says to the other: no one sees my face and lives". And once again, the bitterness, pessimism, and disillusionment in the face of religious principles, youthful ideals, and the illusions of love and sentiments. What remains of all this in the Dylan of today? "Once I took an uncharted path, where it's not the nimblest who win the race, in fact, it's the one who is worth more, who knows how to dispense the word of truth. It took a stranger to teach me to gaze into the fair face of justice and to see it eye for eye and tooth for a tooth" (...) "Someone else is speaking with my mouth, but I listen only to the heart. I've made sandals for everyone, even for you, and yet I still go barefoot". Beautiful. "I and I" is, along with "My Back Pages", "Not Dark Yet", and a few others, one of the rare songs where Bob Dylan lays his soul bare and finally presents himself with his weaknesses, insecurities, and sufferings.
Or maybe not. Or perhaps it's just another mask of an elusive and indefinable character who for decades has enjoyed confusing his audience by appearing in ever different and unpredictable guises. In fact, let's go back to the first track. Let's return to "Jokerman". The mocking and elusive joker-man who is everyone and no one, he is Christ and the Antichrist, God and Satan, the sacred and the profane at the same time. And what if it were none of this? And what if - as many have speculated - it were simply Bob Dylan himself?
Oh, Jokerman, you know what he wants.
Oh, Jokerman, you don't show any response.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 Jokerman (06:19)
Standing on the water casting your bread
While the eyes of the idol with the iron head are glowing.
Distant ships sailing into the mist,
You were born with a snake in both of your fists while a hurricane was blowing.
Freedom just around the corner for you
But with truth so far off, what good will it do?
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
So swiftly the sun sets in the sky,
You rise up and say goodbye to no one.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,
Both of their futures, so full of dread, you don't show one.
Shedding off one more layer of skin,
Keeping one step ahead of the persecutor within.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
You're a man of the mountains, you can walk on the clouds,
Manipulator of crowds, you're a dream twister.
You're going to Sodom and Gomorrah
But what do you care? Ain't nobody there would want to marry your sister.
Friend to the martyr, a friend to the woman of shame,
You look into the fiery furnace, see the rich man without any name.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
Well, the Book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy,
The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers.
In the smoke of the twilight on a milk-white steed,
Michelangelo indeed could've carved out your features.
Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space,
Half asleep neath the stars with a small dog licking your face.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh. oh. oh. Jokerman.
Well, the rifleman's stalking the sick and the lame,
Preacherman seeks the same, who'll get there first is uncertain.
Nightsticks and water cannons, tear gas, padlocks,
Molotov cocktails and rocks behind every curtain,
False-hearted judges dying in the webs that they spin,
Only a matter of time 'til night comes steppin' in.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
It's a shadowy world, skies are slippery gray,
A woman just gave birth to a prince today and dressed him in scarlet.
He'll put the priest in his pocket, put the blade to the heat,
Take the motherless children off the street
And place them at the feet of a harlot.
Oh, Jokerman, you know what he wants,
Oh, Jokerman, you don't show any response.
Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.
02 Sweetheart Like You (04:35)
Well, the pressure's down, the boss ain't here,
He gone North, for a while,
They say that vanity got the best of him
But he sure left here in style.
By the way, that's a cute hat,
And a smile so hard to resist
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
You know, I once knew a woman who looked like you,
She wanted a whole man, not just a half,
She used to call me sweet daddy when I was only a child,
You kind of remind me of her when you laugh.
In order to deal in this game, got to make the queen disappear,
It's done with a flick of the wrist.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
You know, a woman like you should be at home,
That's where you belong,
Taking care of somebody nice,
Who don't know how to do you wrong.
Just how much abuse will you be able to take?
Well, there's no way to tell by that first kiss.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
You know you can make a name for yourself,
You can hear them tires squeal,
You could be known as the most beautiful woman
Who ever crawled across cut glass to make a deal.
You know, news of you has come down the line
Even before ya came in the door.
They say in your father's house, there's many mansions
Each one of them got a fireproof floor.
Snap out of it, baby, people are jealous of you,
They smile to your face, but behind your back they hiss.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
Got to be an important person to be in here, honey,
Got to have done some evil deed,
Got to have your own harem when you come in the door,
Got to play your harp until your lips bleed.
They say that patriotism is the last refuge
To which a scoundrel clings.
Steal a little and they throw you in jail,
Steal a lot and they make you king.
There's only one step down from here, baby,
It's called the land of permanent bliss.
What's a sweetheart like you doin' in a dump like this?
03 Neighborhood Bully (04:37)
Well, the neighborhood bully, he's just one man,
His enemies say he's on their land.
They got him outnumbered about a million to one,
He got no place to escape to, no place to run.
He's the neighborhood bully.
The neighborhood bully he just lives to survive,
He's criticized and condemned for being alive.
Not supposed to fight back, and have thick skin,
Supposed to lay down and die when his door is kicked in.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Neighborhood bully been driven out of every land,
He's wandered the earth an exiled man.
Seen his family scattered, his people hounded and torn,
He's always on trial for just being born.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well, he knocked out a lynch mob, he was criticized,
Old women condemned him, said he should apologize.
Then he destroyed a bomb factory, nobody was glad.
The bombs were meant for him.
He was supposed to feel bad.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well, the chances are against it and the odds are slim
That he'll live by the rules that the world makes for him,
There's a noose at his neck and a gun at his back
And a license to kill him given out to every maniac.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well he got no allies to really speak of.
What he gets he must pay for, he don't get it out of love.
He buys obsolete weapons and he won't be denied
But no one sends flesh and blood to fight by his side.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Well, he's surrounded by pacifists who all want peace,
They pray for it nightly that the bloodshed will cease.
Now, they wouldn't hurt a fly.
To hurt one they would weep.
They lay and they wait for this bully to fall asleep.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Every empire that's enslaved him is gone,
Egypt and Rome, even the great Babylon.
He's made a garden of paradise in the desert sand,
In bed with nobody, under no one's command.
He's the neighborhood bully.
Now his holiest books have been trampled upon,
No contract he signed was worth what it was written on.
He took the crumbs of the world and he turned it into wealth,
Took sickness and disease and he turned it into health.
He's the neighborhood bully.
What's anybody indebted to him for?
Nothin', they say.
He just likes to cause war.
His pride and prejudice his superstition indeed,
They wait for this bully like a dog waits to feed.
He's the neighborhood bully.
What has he done to wear so many scars?
Does he change the course of rivers?
Does he pollute the moon and stars?
Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill,
Running out the clock, time standing still,
Neighborhood bully.
06 Union Sundown (05:25)
Well, my shoes, they come from Singapore,
My flashlight's from Taiwan,
My tablecloth's from Malaysia,
My belt buckle's from the Amazon.
You know, this shirt I wear comes from the Philippines
And the car I drive is a Chevrolet,
It was put together down in Argentina
By a guy makin' thirty cents a day.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Well, this silk dress is from Hong Kong
And the pearls are from Japan.
Well, the dog collar's from India
And the flower pot's from Pakistan.
All the furniture, it says "Made in Brazil"
Where a woman, she slaved for sure
Bringin' home thirty cents a day to a family of twelve,
You know, that's a lot of money to her.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Well, you know, lots of people complainin' that there is no work.
I say, "Why you say that for
When nothin' you got is U.S.-made?"
They don't make nothin' here no more,
You know, capitalism is above the law.
It say, "It don't count 'less it sells."
When it costs too much to build it at home
You just build it cheaper someplace else.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Well, the job that you used to have,
They give it to somebody down in El Salvador.
The unions are big business, friend,
And they're goin' out like a dinosaur.
Well they used to grow food in Kansas
Now they want to grow it on the moon and eat it raw.
I can see the day coming when even your home garden
Is gonna be against the law.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
Democracy don't rule the world,
You'd better get that in your head.
This world is ruled by violence
But I guess that's better left unsaid.
From Broadway to the Milky Way,
That's a lot of territory indeed
And a man's gonna do what he has to do
When he's got a hungry mouth to feed.
Well, it's sundown on the union
And what's made in the U.S.A.
Sure was a good idea
'Til greed got in the way.
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Other reviews
By ilsuonatorejones
This is a wonderful piece, with Dylan’s voice humming like in the old days and a cryptic text perhaps full of references to Christ but of striking beauty and with stunning imagery.
Why does Dylan force us to build his albums ourselves? Why didn’t he include "Blind Willie McTell," which is one of his best tracks?
