Bryan Ferry
Dylanesque

THE REVIEW

Mamma mia, how well we remember it. I especially recall, as a confessed and never repentant '80s mallet-wearer, a video with two cinema bombshells, the Blonde with the fringe and the Brunette with a bad girl face, moving like two big cats, driving me crazy. It was "Don’t Stop The Dance". And who could stop it... And it wasn’t even the first or best of Ferry’s or his Roxy Music’s productions. Just think about, and even the most absent-minded can’t have forgotten, "Avalon" or, especially, "Slave To Love". In the '80s, there was a perverse taste for the glossy.

Andrew Blake amazed the world of young horny people with porn with blue filter and imperial babes who were starving for our delight. Sting left The Police to release beautiful, pristine, and highly polished records. Basically, it was a bit of the fashion of the time. Indeed: one of the many fashions of a still very fertile era, despite the contrary—unmotivated or poorly motivated—opinions of the many and comfortable detractors of the eighties. As far as I know, Ferry never stopped making records. It’s simply impossible to keep track of everyone. So, I neglected him, keeping a very excited and adolescent memory of him. In short: if I think of the stupid frenzy of then, I inevitably think of Falco, and especially the splendid and trashy "Rock Me Amadeus", while if I think of the '80s hiding place, rare and inconclusive—in reality—I immediately think of "Slave To Love" (du du du du…).

So when I read, very well, about this album, I was simultaneously attracted and very suspicious. I downloaded it not to regret the purchase. Well. In the realm of pure cover albums, it’s a beautiful, essential, focused work. And the discourse on cover albums should be very long and deep. But this is neither the time nor the place. Suffice it to say that I consider a cover album an excellent work when it is a “true act of love”. We can talk about it, if you want. The repertoire probably reflects Ferry’s loves more than anything else, as it ranges from old Dylan to the very latest, passing from famous tracks to others less known to the masses. The band follows with adolescent lust while he offers a performance as an interpreter worthy, in my opinion, of entering history. Obviously in the debatable and discussed history of cover albums. The voice, first of all. That clean, warm voice has changed. And it has changed for the better. There are voices that have undergone improvements during their careers (I think of Bowie, Van Morrison, especially Waits...), and others that... alas... (I think of our own "Uncle Pino"...). Brian Ferry is hoarser, more “smoky”, less “powerful” (even though in his case, we can only talk of relative power, of course...). But he sings with a lot of soul. With that soul that is rare today, if not impossible, to encounter while wandering, remote in hand, through the useless music channels that disgrace the airwaves.

In short, an album that flies away smoothly and is immediately replayed. Perfectly studied and realized. And, of course, never banal. On the other hand, folks, those things were written by Dylan... And Brian Ferry sings them beautifully.