Bob Dylan 43: Love And Theft

Some albums define their times; others are defined by them. For the first daylight hours of a certain Tuesday in September, the day was marked only by the knowledge that there would be a brand new Dylan album available as soon as the record stores opened. The sky was blue, the air was crisp. But suddenly, the world we knew had changed.

“Love And Theft” (quotes intentional) was Bob’s first state-of-the-union address since Time Out Of Mind four years earlier, fully vested in his new creed of only recording when he had something to record. There was no way he could have predicted the events of September 11, yet uncannily, occasional lyrics would stand out as all too fitting: “Sky full of fire, pain pourin’ down”; “Today has been a sad and lonesome day”, “It’s bad out there”, “I’m stranded in the city that never sleeps”, and on and on.

Such lyrics are scattered throughout an eclectic set of songs running the gamut of musical styles. “Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum” rumbles in from a reverse fade, its organ and spiraling guitars echoing the last album (not to mention the nursery rhymes from Under The Red Sky, but in a good way). Thankfully he reclaims “Mississippi” from Sheryl Crow, who he’d let record it first. The three long verses fit his cracked voice perfectly.

“Summer Days” and “Honest With Me” are some real rave-ups, with great riffs circling cracking drums over lyrics alternately repetitive, hilarious and cryptic. He goes even further back in time to the crooner era on “Bye And Bye” and “Moonlight”, with the especially startling “Floater (Too Much To Ask)” delivered via Western swing. In between, it’s back across the tracks with “Po’ Boy” (not about a sandwich), “Lonesome Day Blues” and the prophetic “High Water (For Charley Patton)”, with its recycled blues phrases, and lines taken from even more arcane sources.

“Cry A While” is an audible slowdown, like a freight train approaching the end of the line, and like all good Dylan albums—and even some of the bad ones—the last word is delivered slowly, wondering about a future nobody can predict. “Sugar Baby” is about as fitting a conclusion as any.

“Love And Theft” is a strong, highly satisfying album, chock full of quality wordplay and compatible backing. Even the packaging was fun, with Bob showing off his new Cesar Romero mustache and shown reading a Spanish newspaper, which only would have been funnier if he was holding it upside down. Such touches would be appreciated anytime the album reminds us of an awful day that had started out so pleasantly.

Bob Dylan “Love And Theft” (2001)—5