The eagle-eyed among you will have noticed a certain theme in the names of this week's posts. Or fucking not. Perhaps people do not obsessively google my every slaved-over title. Perhaps people are losers.
New Dylan out this week, folks, and it's a fucking cracker. I hadn't been keeping up with Zimmerman gossip so it kind of came as a surprise. The unsought often means that little bit extra to me.
Yeah, yeah, you all hate Dylan. Everyone in my life hates Dylan, pack of tasteless tossers that they are. But there hasn't been a Bootleg Series like this since the very first release of Volumes 1-3. One of the multiple new versions of Mississippi has been played, my iTunes tells me, exactly 33 times over the last three days. There has been much room leaving on the part of The Bridge Crew, much sighing, volume-adjusting and can we please not listen to thising from Common Law.
If you did Bodypump or spin this week you'll have heard it too. Because I'm picking the music, fuckers, and you need to hear this. Allow me to grab you by your lycra and pull you close and breathe these words in your face: 'We're all boxed in, nowhere to escape.'
The original Mississippi was always a favourite, but this new one, oh my good sky full of fire, this one does something to me, something way deep down, that you will be desperate for me to not describe. And so I shall refrain.
There's also a 'Most of the Time' which sounds like it could have come from 'Blood on the Tracks'. Just Robert, guitar, and face organ, free from the disgustingly U2ish Lanois layering that threatened to marr the brilliance of the 'Oh Mercy' original. This has made me both sniffle and cry twice already. It's so fucking jaunty, you see. Jaunty heartbreak, it breaks my jaunty heart.
Loads of mouth-watering new-to-me material too, but you don't want to fucking hear it do you? Hear it or hear about it. So I'll let you go now, off to your mundane non-Dylan soundtracked lives. Just so's you know: 'The emptiness is endless, cold as the clay, you can always come back, but you can't come back all the way.'
Oh, and I think I've swung a ticket to Cyndi for tomorrow night. I'm fucking large, folks. You know the rest of the quote.