So, exactly how bad is Self Portrait? Well, the thing is, I don’t really know. I’ve been so affected by the legend surrounding this album’s awfulness that I’ve never taken the time to listen to it. Until now, that is.
And I have to say, based on the clips I’ve heard… it’s actually pretty good.
Certainly that conclusion owes a lot to the power of expectations, and you can ask for no lower expectations than those attached to an album that’s famous for sucking. But I also think the negative consensus around Self Portrait has a whole lot to do with how and when it was released.
Self Portrait is a double album that consists mostly of cover songs, a practice that wasn’t common for singer-songwriters at the time. I can imagine that Dylan fans saw the title and expected his most confessional work yet and were instead greeted by earnest renditions of ‘Blue Moon’ and Paul Simon’s ‘The Boxer.’
Looking back at it now, though, this doesn’t seem at all inconsistent with Dylan’s later releases on which he covers classic folk songs or Christmas music. As he put it in the 60s (though everybody assumed he was joking), Dylan sees himself as a “song and dance man.” He’s an old-school crooner trapped in the body of a vocally-challenged surrealist poet. Self Portrait might have been the first time his fans came face to face with that fact.
Now, to be fair, the album also contains horrible live versions of great songs like ‘She Belongs to Me’ and ‘Like a Rolling Stone.’ But apart from those ill-advised inclusions, I don’t see much to hate here.
The album even contains a couple of gems that were later included on movie soundtracks: ‘Quinn the Eskimo (The Mighty Quinn),’ which served as the title inspiration for Denzel Washington’s little-seen gem The Mighty Quinn; and ‘Wigwam,’ which was put to memorable use in Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums.
They say a person’s failures tell you far more about him than his successes. Self Portrait feels like the proof. If there is one truth about Bob Dylan, it’s that he is never what anybody wants him to be, only what he is. A self portrait that did anything but deepen the mystery wouldn’t be much of a self portrait at all.
They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise ?
I wander around from town to town just like a roving sign
And all the people say, “There goes Tom Moore, in the days of ’49”
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft’times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of ’49.
My comrades they all loved me well, a jolly saucy crew
A few hard cases I will recall though they all were brave and true
Whatever the pitch they never would flinch, they never would fret or whine
Like good old bricks they stood the kicks in the days of ’49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft’times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of ’49.
There was New York Jake, the butcher boy, he was always getting tight
And every time that he’d get full he was spoiling for a fight
But Jake rampaged against a knife in the hands of old Bob Stein
And over Jake they held a wake in the days of ’49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft’times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of ’49.
There was Poker Bill, one of the boys who was always in a game
Whether he lost or whether he won, to him it was always the same
He would ante up and draw his cards and he would you go a hatful blind
In the game with death Bill lost his breath, in the days of ’49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft’times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of ’49.
There was Ragshag Bill from Buffalo, I never will forget
He would roar all day and he’d roar all night and I guess he’s roaring yet
One day he fell in a prospect hole, in a roaring bad design
And in that hole he roared out his soul, in the days of ’49
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft’times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of ’49.
Of the comrades all that I’ve had, there’s none that’s left to boast
And I’m left alone in my misery like some poor wandering ghost
And I pass by from town to town, they call me a rambling sign
“There goes Tom Moore, a bummer shore in the days of ’49 ”
In the days of old, in the days of gold
How oft’times I repine for the days of old
When we dug up the gold, in the days of ’49.
Meet Me In Montauk 
I’m curious how you are hearing this album, Did you finally break down and buy it? Are you finding each track individually?
Anyway, after yesterday’s post, I was expecting today’s SOTD to demonstrate just how awful this album is. Yet, you have pulled out a song I like quite a lot. Nice to hear Dylan’s voice back to form (so to speak).
Perhaps this is an album that benefits from the era of ITunes–where you can pluck out the good, and leave out the bad.
Yeah, as somebody posted on yesterday’s SOTD, Self Portrait would have been much improved if released as a single disc rather than a double. There seem to be some real gems on it (I’d include yesterday’s song).
All of Dylan’s songs are on YouTube, so it’s easy to hear a whole album by hopping from clip to clip. Also, his official Web site offers minute-long clips of every song.
Is today’s song an original? It certainly sounds like Dylan. I like it very much.
I’m also intrigued by you applying the truism that you learn more about a person from his failures to an artistic endeavor. For some reason, as often as I’ve contemplated that thought, I’ve never applied it in this manner. Now I’m curious to do just that. Do the failures of novelists, film directors, songwriters, and so on tell us someting about who each is as an artist that the more successful works don’t? Maybe.
This song was a cover as well, though Dylan’s performance of it certainly makes it his own.
I think failures do tell us about artists, and perhaps more important, they allow artists to learn about themselves and (ideally) channel that knowledge into future, better work.
Thing is, before Self Portrait there hadn’t been any bad Dylan albums. Since then there have been a few, and now it would be hard to call Self Portrait the worst (although it is certainly down there). The live stuff is what really sinks it– Like A Rolling Stone (from the Isle of Wright festival) is simply awful.
I think Self Portrait sounds better today than it did in 1970 because Dylan’s voice in that period sounds better than we thought it did back then. Now we think of this period as his “country voice”– Lay Lady Lay, Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You, If Not For You– he was putting out those songs within a one year period around the same time as Self Portrait, and we all like those songs. Maybe Self Portrait was a joke, maybe it was a failed concept, maybe it was a deliberate attempt at alienating a following that he found oppressive– or maybe there is some other explanation for it. It is almost certainly not the side most people are going to play when they are in the mood for some Dylan, but there are more redeeming moments on it than there are on e.g. Street Legal, or Down in the Groove.
“He’s an old-school crooner trapped in the body of a vocally-challenged surrealist poet. ” That’s one of the best descriptions of Bob Dylan I’ve ever read. It certainly holds true.
For me, “Self Portrait” is still a great record. It’s not standard — nowhere near the monumental level of his other output — but still deserving of respect. Maybe I’m a poor judge: I honestly don’t believe Dylan has ever written a bad song, just misunderstood ones. Bob shifts shoes and faces so many times, to try and isolate one instance of his being is a fruitless and pointless task.
“Days of ’49” is my favorite track of “Self Portrait”, but I’m inclined to point out that choosing favorites is very hard. I try to listen to an entire album at once — from front to beginning — the way it was intended to be consumed. I hate this day of iTunes and MP3s, where Music ADD is running rampant.
Sure, the live tracks are sub-par, and the plethora of covers is off-putting — but, as you pointed out, the entire thing needs to be looked at in the context of his whole opus.
Here’s what Bob allegedly replied when asked why a double album:
Well, it wouldn’t have held up as a single album – then it really would have been bad, you know. I mean, if you’re gonna put a lot of crap on it, you might as well load it up.