And whenever this earth crumbles, Blood On The Tracks will still sounds amazing.

If you've never listened to Dylan, or just afraid of all the self-righteous "dylanologist" our there who might mock you for misquoting Highway 61 Revisited, my suggestion would be to avoid the compilations and start with Blood on the Tracks.

It's his most accessible album in many ways. His usually nasal-y voice found in his 60's albums is a little lower. The songs aren't about hippie politics, but rather finding, fulfilling, and ultimately losing love. And of course, the fact that every song has a great hook, and he's writing at his best, doesn't hurt at all either.

The opening track, Tangled Up In Blue, in perhaps his most incoherent of his many incoherent story songs. The lyrics don't make much sense on first listen, but the melody is so up beat that you don't really care. This sequel, or antithesis, or fascimile, of the opener is the second to last song, Shelter from the Storm. Neither really have a chorus, and both are based on imagery rather than linear story, and both are absolutely amazing, like the entire album, once you have time to absorb it each time you revisit it.

Best Damn Love Song: Love Minus Zero/No Limit

So I've been on a Dylan kick the last week or so. One of my favorite Dylan songs, or perhaps one of my favorite songs of any artist, is "Love Minus Zero/No Limit."

I heard it first being sung by Buck Owens on some obscure album he did in the late '60s. The complex, almost string-of-conscience, lyrics took me off guard from the typical Buck Owens songs (which, albeit clever and smart, are usually typical country cliche ridden).

Filled with contradictions ("speaks like silence", "no success like failure") because after all, isn't an artist loving someone who doesn't really care at all a contradiction in itself? To have someone who doesn't care about what everyone says (even though, for christ sakes, your Bob Dylan) but just love you for who you are. . . now that's a love to write a song about.

"She knows too much to argue or to judge," speaking of the love of my life, I couldn't have said it better.

Finally music in Raleigh to talk about. . .

with the Bowerbirds and Megafaun both getting huge indie buzz in the last month, I'm finally excited to be a Raleigh-ite. I'm very excited to see where they go with their two excellent albums. No longer do I need to lie, and say I'm from Chapel Hill or Asheville, when talking to music fans in other areas.

Unfortunately, Raleigh's last gift of music to the world came in the form of Clay Aiken. Before that, I'd say Whiskeytown, though as soon as they meant anything, Ryan Adams moved to L.A., then NYC, and hasn't shown back us since. FU too, Ryan.

Edit: Megafaun is technically from Durham. Oh well. . who's counting? It's not like anybody reads this blog anyways.

If Bob Dylan is only half as good as they say he is. . .

then he's just incredible.

Me: "Have you ever listened to Dylan?"
You: "Yeah."
Me: "Have you listened to Blonde on Blonde, Highway 61 Revisited, Bringing It All Back Home, and Blood on the Tracks in their entirety?"
You: "No."
Me: "Then you haven't listened to Dylan."

Granted, everything he's every touched is doomed to be overanalyzed and critiqued to total exhaustion, but that shouldn't be any reason to knock him off.

Here's my desert island Dylantrack list. I've tried to favor the obscurities (Like A Rolling Stone's a great song, but overplayed).

Side note: "It's alright ma, I'm only bleeding," my favorite song off my least favorite "pinnacle" dylan album, reads to me like proto-rap, which predates grandmaster flash about 15 years I think.

"He Not Busy Being Born is Busy Dying."