Bob Dylan
Infidels

THE REVIEW

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.