Label: Columbia/ Starbucks Entertainment
Sound/Style: Sparse, backward-looking acoustic folk
By Steve Morley
Since his emergence as frontman for The Wallflowers in 1990, Jakob Dylan has faced the kind of scrutiny reserved for the offspring of rock music’s most iconic figures. Since they don‘t get much more iconic than Bob Dylan, the younger Dylan has become accustomed to a career lived under the magnifying glass. His output with The Wallflowers—low-key but muscular middle-of-the-road rock—set him sufficiently apart from his father’s work to minimize direct comparisons. In some cases, though, the rock press kept vigil for signs of a musical legacy, an emerging prince that—after three decades’ worth of so-called “New Dylans”—could be regaled as the authentic item. However, on his solo debut, Seeing Things, he invites comparisons to Daddy Dylan in a risky but confident move—ditching the rock trappings for a balladeer’s acoustic guitar. He’s even baited clue-watchers by using the early ‘60s Columbia Records logo on the disc, the same design adorning the earliest Bob Dylan albums. The differences between the two musicians, though, far outweigh the similarities.
Dylan shows an inherited gift for creative wordsmithing, writing opaque narratives that purposely resist easy interpretation. Like his dad, he addresses cultural ills such as war and danger in the air, but with a relaxed and airy delivery unlike the elder Dylan’s rancorous one. “Valley of the Low Sun” might be anti-war and might be about Iraq, but Dylan’s unaffected vocal makes it clear it’s not a protest song in the traditional sense. (“We bow down and worship these bandits and cowboys/ Unable to hold their own guns/ I know that soldiers are not paid to think/ But something is making us sick/ Onward and steady/ Able and young/ In the valley of the low, low, sun.”) His lyrical sleight-of-hand includes descriptions like “a new kind of beast, speaking in tongue,” possibly symbolic of religious and political conservatives who support America’s full-speed-ahead military stance.
On “Evil Is Alive and Well,” Dylan first explores his subject in traditional and external terms including formless, lurking entities and the devil himself, gradually expanding his definition of wickedness to include the human propensity to inflict pain. (“It might walk upright from out of the inferno/ May be coming horseback through the snow/ It’s ragged and fat/ Hungry as hell/ Evil is alive and well…/When midnight’s done and the day won’t start/ And all I ever gave you was a broken heart/ It’s hard to admit but it’s easy to tell/ Evil is alive and well.”)
Curiously, the gently finger-picked guitar heard on “Evil” is nearly as prevalent on the disc’s darker tunes as on lighter moments like “Something Good This Way Comes,” a celebration of simple joys more in keeping with the easy-rolling guitar. Dylan’s preferred stylistic vehicle—early 20th century country blues—is pleasant enough, though it tends to nullify the subtle variations of mood and heighten the album’s ambiguity. While the vintage style gives the album an identity, its postmodern lyrical tone is a dead giveaway that olden times can’t be reclaimed. Dylan himself admits this when he sings “you can’t go back and see it the way that you saw it then.” Though Dylan is clearly capable of offering such perspective, more often the lyrical style on Seeing Things leaves you unsure what you’re seeing.
Audio Clips
"Evil is Alive and Well"
"Valley of the Low Sun"
"All Day and All Night"
"Everybody Pays As They Go"
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