Bob Dylan, romping and stomping, not yet drunk on his own legend, just going for it, singing like he might never get another chance and like this chance will last forever with a backing band that's got a million years to spend in the studio but they're gonna use the first take anyway, unhurried at making this rather fast song, unworried about these rather heavy words, just stumbling along with a great lifelong urgency.
This is less mindblowing than Highway 61's endless expanses, less heartfelt than Blood on the Tracks, but this is the blueprint, this is the house that the highway and the tracks and the Nashville Skyline itself all pour from. This is the house Bringing it all Back Home calls home.
Which is to say that it is seminal, pure Bob Dylan, pure unlistenable yowling, pure guitar jangle and slide and twang, straddling genius and madness and nonsense, and a strange timeless soul; more so than any of his albums, that singular moment soul 4/5
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