50 Years Later- Revisiting Bob Dylan’s Most Misunderstood ‘Self Portrait’

Bob Dylan’s Self Portrait confounded upon its release fifty years ago (6/8/70) and remains something of a conundrum even today.  It may not be the only red herring in the Nobel Laureate’s discography—see 1986’s Knocked Out Loaded or Down in the Groove from two years later—but it was the first to so thoroughly flummox the public. Yet some discerning hindsight, combined with the information provided by select archive packages, reveals a purpose far beyond the short term aim of half a century ago, ostensibly to distance himself from overeager followers (and perhaps satisfy a nagging record label!?).

After initially sequestering himself in Woodstock New York following the (alleged?) motorcycle accident in the summer of 1966, Bob was eventually joined by his fellow road warriors, The Band, with whom he subsequently collaborated  for The Basement Tapes the next year and went on to compose and record  John Wesley Harding, a spartan piece of work distinctly contrary to the flowery psychedelic indulgences of the times. Conducting additional sessions under the supervision of Bob Johnston after that latter production in Nashville, Dylan then pursued a great variety of stylistic approaches, fully in keeping with an extremely broad range of material. 

But especially because of a relative paucity of new originals of any substance (“Wigwam” could not be more slight), not to mention the unusually  mellifluous voice he used through most of the two dozen tracks, the combination of unusual components caused much dismay with Dylan’s audience (and outraged critics of the period). It is thus easy to appreciate a temptation to view New Morning, released just four months later, as a response to the negative reaction afforded this sprawling double album (the second after Blonde On Blonde). Yet even as distinct is that earthy work of October 1970 from the easy listening likes of “Let It Be Me” and “I Forgot More Than You’ll Ever Know,” it is hardly on par with the magnificent expressions of imagination manifest erupting from the two releases of 1965, Bringing It All Back Home and Highway 61 Revisited.

Yet it’s only in hearing Dylan’s tenth album now, in the context of his overall work to the present day, that begins to reveal Bob’s seeming slapdash approach had its purpose. Much additional clarification also comes from then poring through the edition of the ongoing archive project specifically devoted to this period, Another Self-Portrait (1969-1971). That said, it’s not much more edifying to hear the muddled middle-of-the-road sound depicted by this cover of Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain” and it’s definitely enervating to encounter but a single cull from all the work done at Big Pink in the form of “Minstrel Boy.” 

On top of all that, with the additional retrospective of The Bootleg Series Vol. 11: The Basement Tapes Complete, listening to Self Portrait in 2020 renders its inherent rationale readily apparent. Even if the so-called  ‘Voice of a Generation’ was not sure what voice he wanted to assume in the late Sixties and early Seventies, he had a readily discernible path to follow and find out. The Minnesota native has long been a student of song in a wide variety of forms and while he took a most circuitous route to reach some modicum of originality again (1974’s Blood On The Tracks), it’s also easy to ascertain how 1967’s JWH  led inevitably to the more overtly country-styled Nashville Skyline two years later: see The Bootleg Series Vol. 15: Travelin’ thru for even more insight.

And from an even broader perspective, including Dylan’s official releases and live performances over the years, it’s more valuable still to look back and realize the ostensible side-trips of Self Portrait render its title (if not the original Zimmerman cover painting) much less ironic. Rodgers and Hart’s “Blue Moon” foreshadows the more recent explorations of ‘The Great American Songbook’ in the form of Triplicate. “In Search of Little Sadie” belongs squarely in the context of Dylan’s well-established interest in traditional music, an abiding pursuit that in the Nineties took the form of two collections of such material, World Gone Wrong and Good as I Been to You. Meanwhile, the saccharine sound of “All The Tired Horses” finds a vocal choir not all dissimilar from the corps of singers Bob utilized during his ‘born again’ phase (documented on Bootleg #13 Trouble No More 1979–1981) and even on tour later in the Eighties with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. 

Ultimately, while this once baffling entry into Bob Dylan’s discography is still not  a compelling listen on its own terms, it is worthwhile to see it as the means to far greater ends. And, at this very point in time, this healthy exercise in nostalgia may even serve to ratchet up anticipation for  Rough And Rowdy Ways, his first album of original material since 2012.