At the end of this week, I’ll return to the key issues that Dylan addresses in “The Ballad of Hollis Brown.” As part of that, I’ll look at one of if not theworst versions of the song ever sung — by Dylan himself of course — and how that terrible (no really, it’s terrible!) and heavily criticized performance led to a great legacy. Because, after all, this is Dylan we’re talking about and that’s what he does, right — change the world through not exactly altogether pleasing performances? Also as part of that discussion, I’ll look again at how this song functions as an exercise in empathy, and how that exercise goes a bit awry.
But, for now, it’s mid-week, it’s spring, and who needs the heavy? Let’s just hear some more great music. If we’re talking about Dylan we must talk about the incredibly important covers that also define his legacy — so many of his songs are known through other voices, and we’re familiar with the debates about whose versions of what songs are definitive. (A nice list of some of the best Dylan covers can be found here.)What I love about the most striking and unique covers of “The Ballad of Hollis Brown” — itself structurally based on the old murder ballad “Pretty Polly” —
is how they mirror the individual emotions and images in the song. Let’s start with the initial haunting picture of quiet despair, the dried up farmland, the wordless accusations of suffering loved ones — all folk, blues, soul and a little twang:
And then there’s the the encroaching vermin, disease, and death; the roar of the wind; the brain fever of an isolated, angry man; the howling wind; the shotgun blasts — this is all blues- and folk-infused rock, punk, and metal, with long jams and relentless repetition:
Stone the Crows (1969)
Nazareth (1974) (confession time: I’m a metal chick at heart and this is one of my favorite versions)
And then there’s the final, background implication that a whole community is involved and at crisis, which I think is captured by Leon Russell and his backup singers:
Leon Russell (1974)
Coda
The incessant covers of Dylan’s songs resonate, I think, with the murder ballad genre itself and the way these ballads are handed from singer to singer and reworked over and over. In fact, “Bob Dylan” is kind of like a living murder ballad himself — a teller of unpleasant and compelling stories, a weaver of truth and fairytale, both butcher and baker, so to speak — both entertaining jester and executioner.
But I said I wouldn’t get heavy so I’ll just leave that thought with you for now.
