art itself. They have stood alone.
When Charlie Chaplin was criticized, it was for his direction, especially in the seemingly lethargic later movies. When I criticize Dylan now, it's not for his abilities as a singer or songwriter, which are extraordinary, but for his shortcomings as a record maker. Part of me believes that the completed record is the final measure of a pop musician's accomplishment, just as the completed film is the final measure of a film artist's accomplishments. It doesn't matter how an artist gets there -- Robert Johnson, Woody Guthrie (and Dylan himself upon occasion) did it with just a voice, a song and a guitar, while Phil Spector did it with orchestras, studios and borrowed voices. But I don't believe that by the normal criteria for judging records -- the mixture of sound playing, singing and words -- that Dylan has gotten there often enough or consistently enough.
Chaplin transcended his lack of interest in the function of directing through his physical presence. Almost everyone recognizes that his face was the equal of other directors' cameras, that his acting became his direction. But Dylan has no one trait -- not even his lyrics -- that is the equal of Chaplin's acting. In this respect, Elvis Presley may be more representative of a rock artist whose raw talent has overcome a lack of interest and control in the process of making records.
Presley is the only rock artist whose records have consistently failed to list a producer. When they are great, they represent the triumph of his natural ability over everything that surrounds him -- songs, musicians, recording equipment. We remember him, not the record. He creates the illusion that he can do anything he wants to, but never has to be more than he is. It is enough that he sounds like Elvis Presley. Even at his worst, his records sound complete. He defines himself.
For many years I believed that Dylan could do that too. But for many more I doubted it. Through Blonde on Blonde, Dylan's originality as a performer, singer, songwriter and presence haunted a generation -- and had an incalculable effect on my own life. But while Elvis Presley never had to rely on anything but himself to see himself through, Dylan needs his specific talents to make
If you've ever wondered what a perfect album sounds like, here it is. Dylan's 1975 return to acoustic form set the bar high without retro backpedaling. The first track, inspired by Joni Mitchell's Blue, is perhaps the most romantic narrative he ever wrote and the lyrics on "If You See Her, Say Hello" can kill you.
