In his 2005 autobiography Chronicles Volume One (released 9/12/89), Bob Dylan writes extensively about the labor involved in recording Oh Mercy, his first collaboration with producer Daniel Lanois. The inscrutable methods of the Canadian who had worked wonders in the studio with U2 became more than a little off-putting for The Bard of Minnesota, at one point compelling him to take respite from the project with a long motorcycle ride outside the New Orleans locale for the work.
Perhaps it was the fitful connection between the two men that ultimately resulted in one of if not the best of, Dylan’s original songs for the LP not appearing in the final sequence of tracks. The shadowy and deeply ethereal “Series of Dreams” would not be officially released–in remixed form with overdubs added–until January 1991’s archival collection The Bootleg Series Volumes 1–3 (Rare & Unreleased) (it was also included on Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits Volume 3 three years later).
An allusive ode to the creative muse, this tune might better have been the final track of eleven on Oh Mercy. As such, it would serve as an implicit commentary on the varied nature of Dylan’s other self-penned material, ranging from social observations–“Political World” and “Everything Is Broken”–to philosophical musings in the form of “Disease of Conceit” as well as the outright emotional catharses of “Most Of The Time” and “What Was It You Wanted,” the Nobel Laureate’s chosen topics are as varied as the roster of musicians who accompany him.
Daniel Lanois himself participates on multiple instruments, while the rhythm section of bassist Tony Hall and drummer Willie Green are otherwise the most consistent contributors (and they do not appear on every number). Meanwhile, co-recording and mixing engineer Malcolm Burn proves his versatility with his keyboards on the overt gospel-oriented “Ring Them Bells.” The man who would go on to work with the late Chris Whitley 1991 on his Living With The Law debut in 1991 is also prominent on the cryptic character portrait (forced rhymes and all) that is “Man In The Long Black Coat”
Through it all, Bob Dylan sings in a generally unaffected voice that belies whatever reservations he had about the execution of his twenty-sixth studio album. His vocals are mixed to the forefront of the arrangements judiciously, including his own harmonica: topping off “Shooting Star” with the melancholy sound of that instrument aids immeasurably in implanting a sense of finality to the ten tracks as issued.
Hearkening back ten years to the polished audio quality of Slow Train Coming, the sonics on Oh Mercy are clean and deep, particularly so in its 2009 Super Audio CD issue remastered by Greg Calbi. And that’s perfectly in keeping with the unusually clear-cut emotional imagery of the confessional “What Good Am I?;” lucidity is the byword here on virtually every front, from which attitude Dylan would take a sharp turn for his next studio enterprise.
While he co-produced Under The Red Sky with Don and David Was, the preponderance of guest musicians is hardly as purposeful as Lanois’ enlistments for the prior record. That, in turn, may explain in part why Bob’s next two albums featured him alone on acoustic guitar and harmonica, covering nothing but traditional folk and blues songs.
Interpolated with the non-sequitur that is MTV Unplugged, the archival collections released around this time seem like a setup for the second Lanois/Dylan effort. Time Out Of Mind was almost universally hailed as a distinct return to form, one so resounding it garnered him three Grammy Awards (implicit recognition for which came when the inveterate iconoclast actually performed for the broadcast).
Having absorbed the lessons of rigor in recording, Dylan went on to produce most of his future studio albums himself, beginning with 2001’s ‘Love And Theft’.” His most astute employment of wisdom (under the assumed name ‘Jack Frost’) may be using his touring band there and on subsequent collections like Tempest and even for his extended ode to the Great American Songbook Triplicate.
The fluency of musicianship is as self-evident on those varied exercises as on Oh Mercy, even if the latter ostensibly arrived with much great expenditure of effort.
