Jan. 30--Bob Dylan is as much subversive trickster as renowned songwriter, but he plays neither role on his latest album, "Shadows in the Night" (Columbia). On the surface, it's his version of one of those "Great American Songbook" albums that has been glutting the market over the last couple of decades, late-career chart grabs from the likes of Rod Stewart, Carly Simon, Annie Lennox and Paul McCartney.
But Dylan's version of the standards isn't quite like anyone else's. He focuses primarily on songs associated with Frank Sinatra, and he chooses a number of deep cuts instead of a bland rehash of the usual suspects. Dylan wisely steers clear of the swinging, swaggering Sinatra and heads straight for the back of the bar in the post-midnight mood of Sinatra concept albums such as "In the Wee Small Hours" and "Where are You?" Dylan cherry-picks no less than four songs from the latter, and "Shadows in the Night" -- both conceptually and sonically -- sounds very much of a piece with his largely self-produced work from the last 15 years.
In Sinatra's records, dynamic horns and strings in meticulously arranged big bands complemented the voice, giving even his low-key songs a cinematic sweep. Dylan, in his guise as producer Jack Frost, works out more modest, stripped-down versions of 10 ballads with his touring band. Horns play an almost subliminal background role, a low-register moan set against steady upright bass. Dylan's voice sounds comfortable, unhurried. Fans who saw his recent tour will recognize the tone, and the relaxed ensemble performances that cushion it.
Gentle, more rounded tones replace the singer's gravelly garble of recent decades. The way he stretches syllables adds to the notion of fragility, the narrator's vulnerability, mirrored by Donny Herron's sighing pedal steel. The setting shifts from Sinatra's big-city saloon to a wide-open prairie, occupied by a lone drifter clinging to his memories.
Because he understands his limitations so well, Dylan offers credible insight into these songs, and suggests that the distance between some of these standards and Dylan originals such as "Not Dark Yet" or "Ain't Talkin'" isn't that great. On "Autumn Leaves," his voice melts into the low moan of the horns and pedal steel with devastating finality, as if he were being swallowed by loneliness. Dylan's voice traces the slope of the pedal steel and vice-versa on "What'll I Do," whispering to an ink-black sky. His plea "lift me to paradise" brings a tragic cast to "That Lucky Old Sun."
There are countless standards albums that bring forth more technically proficient singing than "Shadows in the Night." Dylan doesn't pretend otherwise. But few are as emotionally transparent. He works in the more intimate tradition of Chet Baker and the "Lady in Satin" Billie Holiday. These artists compensated for voices ravaged by time and abuse with late-career albums that left no room for prettiness or frills, only truth.
'Shadows in the Night'
Bob Dylan
3 (out of 4)
greg@gregkot.com
