Bob Dylan
Nashville Skyline
(Columbia 90319)

Right from the supremely confident yet welcoming cover image and down to the last track, Dylan's "country album" is an amazingly sincere Sunday afternoon stroll, and a nice comedown from his pre-motorcycle crash hyperactivity. Though hardly a capital-G Great album by anyone's standards, it's one of those that grows on you, gradually becoming as comfortable as a good pair of worn-in Hush Puppies.

It's such a pleasant album, in fact, that I'm not even able to muster up the impacted rage that I probably ought to have at Columbia for forcing me to re-acquire the Dylan catalog, yet again. I think I've owned two previous Nashville Skylines, but finally, the latest reissue gets it right. No additional material, but meticulous packaging and beautiful sound. I've heard the music many times, but I'm hearing it fresh once again, and that's a treat.

My take on Skyline is that it ought to have its sides switched … Side 2 is, surprisingly, a lot brighter and better than Side 1. If you listen first to tracks 6-10 followed by 1-5, the album becomes outstanding, and an even more perfect, lighthearted complement to John Wesley Harding.

Which is not to say Side 1 is bad, but it's as shaky as latter day Johnny Cash, who lends vocals to the lead-off track, "Girl From the North Country." Fantastic song, but Dylan is not exactly the ideal person to be singing with Johnny Cash. It's like throwing Anthony Hopkins and Jason Lee together and expecting synchronicity. By the end, the song sounds like you're in the back seat on a long road trip while your non-musical dad sings along quietly to a Johnny Cash record.

Best song on here is probably the sad and plaintive "I Threw It All Away," which never tires like "Like a Rolling Stone" or some of Dylan's better-known stuff. He's always at his best when he's just being real, in my opinion. "Lay Lady Lay" is, of course, gorgeous, but my favorite tracks are the rollicking, almost John Sebastian-esque "One More Night," the proto-Wilburys "Country Pie," which almost sounds like Bob Dorough had his hands in the pie, and "Peggy Day," which sounds delightfully like Kermit the Frog doing his Nashville album.

Sweet, light, and disarming, this record is a little bit o' treasure that you can have all to yourself for a half hour or so. It's not the Grand Statement many folks seem to always want from Bob Dylan, but personally, I like the guy most when he's mainly making corny jokes.

Review by Esperanza Conklin