
Tangled soundtrack list of songs tv#
The best version, however, is the scorching one Dylan performed on David Letterman’s TV show with new wave band the Plugz, a tantalising glimpse of an alternative route through the 80s he chose not to take. The Mark Knopfler-produced Infidels divided critical opinion, but everyone seemed to agree its opening track was great – a complex lyric underpinned with Sly and Robbie’s subtle reggae rhythm. Written “in a minute”, there’s a strong argument that the best version of Dylan’s universal description of the emotions of fatherhood is the original demo: the reason he eventually allowed a lo-fi and incomplete recording to be released is that there is a rawness and emotional punch to it that the two takes on 1974’s Planet Waves never quite match. One Too Many Mornings (1964)Ī respite from the firebrand finger-pointing that comprises much of The Times They Are A-Changing, the moving One Too Many Mornings finds Dylan reflecting on the complex end of his relationship with Suze Rotolo: “It’s a restless hungry feeling that don’t mean no one no good/When everything I’m saying, you can say it just as good”. The conclusion of Modern Times brought more brooding horror – violence, plague, unending suffering – with an opening line that made it sound like an old folk ballad (“as I walked out …”) and a twist that the song’s protagonist isn’t just a dismayed observer, but potentially something much worse: his heart occupied by “an evil spirit”, he ends the song confronting a lone woman.

Blowin’ in the Wind (1963)Īpparently written in a matter of minutes, its melody borrowed from No More Auction Block – a civil war-era spiritual performed by Dylan and Odetta – Blowin’ in the Wind may be Dylan’s most famous protest song precisely because, as he pointed out, it’s not a protest song: it deals in universalities rather than specifics, making it infinitely adaptable.

This fabulous (perhaps imaginary) account of meeting Elvis casts Dylan in the unlikely role of awestruck fan and imbues Presley with mystical powers (“he can … drive you from your fear, bring you through the mirror”) capable of restoring another artist’s creativity: following their meeting, Dylan has “music in ears”. The original is noticeably darker in tone, largely because it’s sung by Dylan in his fearsome latter-day rasp, but its powerful cocktail of beautifully direct lyrics and indelible melody are irresistible. No recent Dylan song has become as ubiquitous as Make You Feel My Love, its status as a modern standard largely down to Adele’s cover version. Those upset when Dylan went electric couldn’t say he didn’t warn them something big was coming: My Back Pages spends the best part of five minutes not repudiating his protest singer past, but bidding the kind of certainties that fuelled it (“lies that life is black and white”) a sardonic farewell.

Should you wonder if Dylan’s capacity for rage had been dulled by his advancing years, listen to Pay in Blood, a gentle musical backdrop for an expression of literally murderous fury: at first he’s so angry that the lyrics are incomprehensible, his voice just a phlegmy snarling noise when they come into focus, he’s demanding vengeance on bankers and politicians “pumping out piss”.

Subsequently covered by everyone from Siouxsie and the Banshees to Kylie Minogue, in every style from psychedelic to electro-glam stomp, the original Basement Tapes recording of This Wheel’s on Fire – both a great song and another of Dylan’s umpteen apocalyptic visions – has a uniquely intense, eerie quality that no one else has subsequently matched.
