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Bob Dylan: Oh Mercy

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s

Artist: Bob Dylan
Title: Oh Mercy
Released: 1989.09.12
Label: Columbia Records
Time: 38:46
Producer(s): Daniel Lanois
Appears with:
Category: Pop/Rock
Rating: ****...... (4/10)
Media type: CD
Purchase date:  2002.03.15
Price in €: 6,99
Web address: www.bobdylan.com

 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Political World (B.Dylan) - 3:43
[2] Where the Teardrops Fall (B.Dylan) - 2:30
[3] Everything Is Broken (B.Dylan) - 3:12
[4] Ring Them Bells (B.Dylan) - 3:00
[5] Man in the Long Black Coat (B.Dylan) - 4:30
[6] Most of the Time (B.Dylan) - 5:02
[7] What Good Am I? (B.Dylan) - 4:45
[8] Disease of Conceit (B.Dylan) - 3:41
[9] What Was It You Wanted (B.Dylan) - 5:02
[10] Shooting Star (B.Dylan) - 3:12

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


BOB DYLAN - Organ, Guitar, Harmonica, Piano, Vocals, 12 String Guitar

DANIEL LANOIS - Dobro, Guitar, Omnichord, Mixing, Lap Steel Guitar
MALCOLM BURN - Keyboards, Tambourine, Recording Engineer, Mixing, Mercy Keys, Bass
MASON RUFFNER - Guitar
JOHN HART - Saxophone
ROCKIN' DOPSIE - Accordion
TONY HALL - Bass
DARRYL JOHNSON - Percussion
CYRIL NEVILLE - Percussion
ALTON RUBIN, Jr. - Scrub Board
BRIAN STOLTZ - Guitar
WILLIE GREEN - Drums
LARRY JOLIVET - Bass
PAUL SYNEGAL - Guitar

MARK HOWARD - Recording Engineer, Studio Installation
GREG CALBI - Mastering
TROTSKY - Street Art
CHRISTOPHER AUSTOPCHUK - Album Design
MARK BURDETT - Type Design
SUZIE-Q - Photo

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


1987 CD Columbia CK-45281
1989 CS Columbia OCT-45281



Oh Mercy was hailed as a comeback, not just because it had songs noticeably more meaningful than anything Dylan had recently released, but because Daniel Lanois' production gave it cohesion. There was cohesion on Empire Burlesque, of course, but that cohesion was a little too slick, a little too commercial, whereas this record was filled with atmospheric, hazy production — a sound as arty as most assumed the songs to be. And Dylan followed suit, giving Lanois significant songs — palpably social works, love songs, and poems — that seemed to connect with his past. And, at the time, this production made it seem like the equivalent of his '60s records, meaning that its artiness was cutting edge, not portentious. Over the years, Oh Mercy hasn't aged particularly well, seeming as self-conscious as such other gauzy Lanois productions as So and The Joshua Tree, even though it makes more sense than the ersatz pizzazz of Burlesque. Still, the songs make Oh Mercy noteworthy; they find Dylan quietly raging against the materialism of Reagan and accepting maturity, albeit with a slight reluctance. So, Oh Mercy is finally more interesting for what it tries to achieve than for what it actually does achieve. At its best, this is a collection of small, shining moments, with the best songs shining brighter than their production or the album's overall effect.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All-Music Guide, © 1992 - 2002 AEC One Stop Group, Inc.



The 1980s was a particularly shifting, uncertain decade for Bob Dylan's creative voice. But he capped it off with his first album of all-original material in several years and his best since Infidels. A lot of the credit for Oh Mercy's distinctive appeal has been given to producer-musician Daniel Lanois (who backs Dylan on all but one cut), and there's no denying the effect of his magnetic, fog-thick sound sculpturing here. Overlays of lap steel, dobro, and mercy keys along with a slithering subterranean bass evoke a complete sonic climate, and the synergy between Lanois and Dylan would have a huge payoff with 1997's devastating Time Out of Mind. But however tightly produced, Oh Mercy also displays Dylan at the peak of his songwriting craft, fracturing words and phrases for the things-fall-apart jeremiads of "Political World" and "Everything Is Broken" and stringing images together for the noirish ballad "Man in the Long Black Coat." There's the usual dichotomy between Dylan's slashing accusatory mode ("What Was It You Wanted") and the self-effacement of "What Good Am I?" Aside from the miscalculated, sappy "Where Teardrops Fall" (the disc's sore thumb), this album has the classic staying power of Dylan's finest efforts.

Thomas May - Amazon.com


What the Critics Say...

Rolling Stone (11/89) - Ranked #44 in Rolling Stone's "100 Best Albums Of The 80s" survey.

Q Magazine (3/93, p.94) - 4 Stars (out of 5) - "...OH MERCY put him in the studio with Daniel Lanois, who accordingly delivered his usual sticky-in-the-heat-of-the-night feel, and Dylan did the business with 10 superior songs..."



Produzenten können manchmal Wunder bewirken - wie Daniel Lanois bei Mr. Zim- mermann. Oh Mercy ist kein Gnadenappell, sondern Leitgedanke eines Barden in Bestform. In Political World und Everything Is Broken rockt er locker. Meist aber drapiert Lanois bluesig-karge Töne. Das schwerblütige Man In A Long Black Coat hat das Zeug zum Dylan-Klassiker - wie das Album.

© Audio



Seine schlappen Auftritte an der Seite des redlich um Power und Stimmung bemühten Tom Petty sind noch als Alptraum in deutlichster Erinnerung, und auch mit den jüngsten Plattenaufnahmen stellte sich Bob Dylan nicht eben ein Ruhmeszeugnis aus. Nun ist der Mann, der dem Rock ein Anliegen gab, wieder voll da - mit einem Album, das an seine allerbesten anknüpft. Selbst die Lichtblicke der letzten zehn, zwölf Jahre, "Slow Train Coming" (1979) und "Infidels" (1983), hören sich dagegen vergleichsweise blaß an. Die Wahl von Daniel Lanois (siehe Die Besondere S1189) zum Produzenten trug sicher nicht unwesentlich zu diesem künstlerischen Erfolg bei. Die Entschei- dung für den Frankokanadier traf Dylan, nachdem er das in diesem Frühjahr erschienene Album "Yellow Moon" der Neville Brothers gehört hatte. Insbe- sondere die darauf enthaltene Neuaufnahme seines Songs "The Ballad Of Hollis Brown" imponierte dem eigenwilligen Barden. Die Atmosphäre des Aufnahmeorts New Orleans hinterließ dann prägende Spuren auf dem 34. Album des 48 Jahre alten Sängers. Vor allem die Ballade "Man In The Long Black Coat" transportiert die schwüle und dämonische Aura der Stadt am Mississippi-Delta. Dylan singt von einer Frau, die ihren Mann wegen eines mysteriösen Fremden verläßt. Einige grundsätzliche Reflektionen über Reli- gion, Sex, Tod, Natur und Sünde würzen dieses eindringliche Stück, in dem Dylan seinen Text nicht lethargisch herunterölt, sondern mit einer lange nicht mehr gehörten Ausdruckskraft deklamiert. Der politische und kulturelle Zerfall unserer Zivilisation zieht sich als Thema wie ein roter Faden durch die Lieder von "Oh Mercy". Die Gitarren- betonten Arrangements unterstreichen in ihrer transparenten Schärfe den mys- tisch beschwörenden Grundton, auf dem sich das Naturell von Dylan in voll- endeter Harmonie mit dem von Lanois trifft. Bässe, Dobro, Steel Guitar, Ak- kordeon, Percussion und Piano sind für eine Rock & Folk-Produktion ungewöhn- lich stimmig abgemischt. "Bob Dylan ist der beste Rocksänger der Welt", konstatierte Bob Johnston, als er "Oh Mercy" zu Gehör bekam. Er muß es wissen - immerhin produzierte er solche Dylan-Meilensteine wie "Highway 61 Revisited", "Blonde On Blonde" und "John Wesley Harding". ** Interpret.: 09-10 ** Klang.: 09-10

© Stereoplay



Nothing reinvigorates Sixties icons like having something to prove. In the past few years the reverence typically shown both the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan has worn perilously thin. The Stones' last two albums, Undercover and Dirty Work – not to mention Mick Jagger's solo recordings – ranged from bad to ordinary, and Keith Richards's bitter public baiting of Jagger suggested that this particular twain might never again productively meet. In Dylan's case, the most obvious message conveyed by the shoddy, almost willfully unfocused nature of his recent work – specifically Knocked Out Loaded and Down in the Groove – was that he had simply stopped caring about making records.

Now, in the summit of love of the past, the Stones and Dylan have weighed in with albums that signal renewed conviction and reactivated sense of purpose. Steel Wheels rocks with a fervor that renders the Stones' North American tour an enticing prospect indeed, while Oh Mercy explores moral concerns and matters of the heart with a depth and seriousness Dylan has not demonstrated since Desire. Deep-sixing nostalgia, the Stones and Dylan have made vital albums of, for and about their time.

It's not hard to read "Mixed Emotions," the most assured Stones single since "Start Me Up," as Jagger's measured, characteristically pragmatic – and guardedly conciliatory – reply to the verbal pounding he took in the round of interviews Richards gave after the guitarist released his solo album, Talk Is Cheap, last year. "Button your lip baby," counsels Jagger over a swinging guitar groove in the song's opening line, before offering to "bury the hatchet/Wipe out the past." In a bid for some understanding from his band mate, Jagger sings, "You're not the only one/With mixed emotions/You're not the only one/That's feeling lonesome."

The feral rocker "Hold On to Your Hat" seems to sketch some of the problems of excess that threatened to drive Jagger out of the Stones. "We'll never make it," Jagger sings angrily, as Richards unleashes a flamethrower riff. "Don't you fake it/You're getting loaded/I'm getting goaded." Never to be outdone, Richards ends the album on a lovely, elegiac note with his ballad "Slipping Away," about his own brand of mixed emotions. "All I want is ecstasy/But I ain't getting much/Just getting off on misery," the Glimmer Twins harmonize on the song's chorus, and then Richards returns to sing the concluding verse. "Well it's just another song," he sings. "But it's slipping away."

Jagger's and Richards's conflicting emotions fuel full-tilt rock & roll on "Sad Sad Sad" and "Rock and a Hard Place," while "Continental Drift," with its north-African feel, and the elegant "Blinded by Love" extend the Stones' musical reach further than it has gone in some time. Jagger miraculously avoids camp posturing in his singing, and the rest of the band – Richards, Ron Wood, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts, augmented by keyboardists Chuck Leavell and Matt Clifford, a horn section and backup singers – plays with an ensemble flair more redolent of the stage than the studio. Jagger, Richards and their coproducer, Chris Kimsey, strike an appropriate balance between upto-date recording sheen and the Stones' inspired sloppiness All the ambivalence, recriminations, attempted rapprochement and psychological one-upmanship evident on Steel Wheels testify that the Stones are right in the element that has historically spawned their best music – a murky, dangerously charged environment in which nothing is merely what it seems. Against all odds, and at this late date, the Stones have once again generated an album that will have the world dancing to deeply troubling, unresolved emotions.

Oh Mercy can perhaps best be thought of as a collaboration between Dylan and producer Daniel Lanois. Lanois, who most recently produced the Neville Brothers' extraordinary album Yellow Moon, hooked Dylan up with members of the Nevilles' band – guitarist Brian Stoltz, bassist Tony Hall, drummer Willie Green and percussionist Cyril Neville – and fashioned evocative, atmospheric soundscapes that elicit every nuance of meaning from Dylan's songs while never overwhelming them. Dylan's lyric style on Oh Mercy – a plain-spoken directness with rich folkloric and Biblical shadings – finds an ideal setting in the dark, open textures of Lanois's sonic weave.

The thematic context for Oh Mercy is defined in "Political World," a churning rocker stricken with anxiety and despair, and "Everything Is Broken," a rollicking catalog of psychic dislocation. The cultural breakdowns chronicled in those songs are mirrored on a more personal level in the dreamy ballads "Most of the Time," a love song of taunting regret in Dylan's characteristic manner, and the self-examining "What Good Am I."

Haunting the center of the album is "Man in the Long Black Coat," a chilling narrative ballad suffused with a medieval sense of sin, death, illicit sexuality and satanic power. Sung by Dylan in a husky, tormented whisper, the song tells of a woman who leaves her man for a demonic stranger, prompting a series of reflections on the nature of conscience, religious faith and emotional commitment. As the spare musical background evokes a universe frighteningly devoid of absolute meaning, Dylan sings, "There are no mistakes in life, some people say/And it's true sometimes, you could see it that way/People don't live or die, people just float/She went with the man in a long black coat." Against such radical uncertainty Dylan holds, in songs like "Where Teardrops Fall" and "Ring Them Bells," to a faith that is millenarian but far more generous than the one he has articulated on his more overtly Christian records.

Dylan also renews his ongoing, if recently interrupted, dialogue with his audience on the last two songs of the album, "What Was It You Wanted" and "Shooting Star." Seemingly about a former lover, "What Was It You Wanted" sets forth a series of chiding questions about expectations – expectations that the singer has failed to meet, implicitly because of their unreasonable nature. They are the sort of questions Dylan has been raising in songs as long ago as "It Ain't Me Babe."

Then, on "Shooting Star," a kind of restless farewell, Dylan sings, "I saw a shooting star tonight, and I thought of me/If I was still the same, if I ever became what you wanted me to be." Never one to pander to his audience, Dylan has often gone to the other extreme, eluding his listeners' desires in a manner that has bordered on the perverse. The Rolling Stones, too, carry the burden of their own history; the question of how a rock & roll band can carry its music into adulthood is part of the struggle that nearly broke the band up.

But fans have a right to their desires, too, and frequently an artist's defensiveness about the narrowness of audience taste is really a response to work even the artist fears is second-rate. The best defense of exacting audience demands is the straightforward fact that these great expectations derive from the artist's own work. Another is that those demands are sometimes met by work that is both challenging and satisfying – as these splendid new albums prove.

ANTHONY DECURTIS - RS 561
© Copyright 2002 RollingStone.com
 

 L y r i c s


POLITICAL WORLD

We live in a political world,
Love don't have any place.
We're living in times where men commit crimes
And crime don't have a face

We live in a political world,
Icicles hanging down,
Wedding bells ring and angels sing,
clouds cover up the ground.

We live in a political world,
Wisdom is thrown into jail,
It rots in a cell, is misguided as hell
Leaving no one to pick up a trail.

We live in a political world
Where mercy walks the plank,
Life is in mirrors, death disappears
Up the steps into the nearest bank.

We live in a political world
Where courage is a thing of the past
Houses are haunted, children are unwanted
The next day could be your last.

We live in a political world.
The one we can see and can feel
But there's no one to check, it's all a stacked deck,
We all know for sure that it's real.

We live in a political world
In the cities of lonesome fear,
Little by little you turn in the middle
But you're never why you're here.

We live in a political world
Under the microscope,
You can travel anywhere and hang yourself there
You always got more than enough rope.

We live in a political world
Turning and a'thrashing about,
As soon as you're awake, you're trained to take
What looks like the easy way out.

We live in a political world
Where peace is not welcome at al,
It's turned away from the door to wander some more
Or put up against the wall.

We live in apolitical world
Everything is hers or his,
Climb into the frame and shout God's name
But you're never sure what it is.


WHERE TEARDROPS FALL

Far Away where the soft wind blow,
Far away from it all,
There is a place you go
Where teardrops fall.

Far away in the stormy night,
Far away and over the wall,
You are there in the flickering light
Where teardrops fall.

We banged the drum slowly
And played the fife lowly
You know the song in my heart
Bridge: In the turning of twilight
In the shadows of moonlight
You can show me a new place to start

I've torn my clothes and I've drained the cup
Strippin' away at it all,
Thinking of you when the sun comes up
Where teardrops fall.

By rivers of blindness,
In love and with kindness
We could hold up s toast if we meet
Bridge: To the cuttin' of fences
To sharpen the senses
That linger in the fireball heat.

Roses are red, violets are blue
And time is beginning to crawl,
I just might have to come see you
Where teardrops fall.


EVERYTHING IS BROKEN

Broken lines, broken strings,
Broken threads, broken springs,
Broken idols, broken heads,
People sleeping in broken beds.
Ain't no use jiving
Ain't no use joking
Everything is broken.

Broken bottles, broken plates,
Broken switches, broken gates,
Broken dishes, broken parts,
Streets are filled with broken hearts.
Broken words never meant to be spoken,
Everything is broken.

Bridge: Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground

Broken cutters, broken saws,
Broken buckles, broken laws,
Broken bodies, broken bones,
Broken voices on broken phones.
Take a deep breath, feel like you're chokin',
Everything is broken.

Bridge: Every time you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face

Broken hands on broken ploughs,
Broken treaties, broken vows,
Broken pipes, broken tools,
People bending broken rules.
Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking,
Everything is broken.


RING THEM BELLS

Ring them bells, ye heathen
From the city that dreams,
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries
Cross the valleys and streams,
For they're deep and they're wide
And the world's on its side
And time is running backwards
And so is the bride.

Ring them bells St. Peter
Where the four winds blow,
Ring them bells with an iron hand
So the people will know.
Oh it's rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is going down
Upon the sacred cow.

Ring them bells Sweet Martha,
For the poor man's son,
Ring them bells so the world will know
That God is one.
Oh the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled
With lost sheep.

Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf,
Ring them bells for all of us who are left,
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many when the game is through.
Ring them bells, for the time that flies,
For the child that cries
When innocence dies.

Ring them bells St. Catherine
From the top of the room,
Ring them from the fortress
For the lilies that bloom.
Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they're breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong.


MAN IN THE LONG BLACK COAT

Crickets are chirpin', the water is high,
There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry,
Window wide open, African trees
Bent over backwards from a hurricane breeze.
Not a word of goodbye, note even a note,
She gone with the man
In the long black coat.

Somebody seen him hanging around
At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town,
He looked into her eyes when she stopped to ask
If he wanted to dance, he had a face like a mask.
Somebody said from the Bible he'd quote
There was dust on the man
In the long black coat.

Preacher was a talkin' there's a sermon he gave,
He said every man's conscience is vile and depraved,
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
When it's you who must keep it satisfied.
It ain't easy to swallow, it sticks in the throat,
She gave her heart to the man
In the long black coat.

There are no mistakes in life some people say
It is true sometimes you can see it that way.
Bridge: But people don't live or die, people just float.
She went with the man
In the long black coat.

There's smoke on the water, it's been there since June,
Tree trunks uprooted, 'neath the high crescent moon
Feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Somebody is out there beating the dead horse.
She never said nothing there was nothing she wrote,
She gone with the man
In the long black coat.


MOST OF THE TIME

Most of the time
I'm clear focused all around,
Most of the time
I can keep both feet on the ground,
I can follow the path, I can read the signs,
Stay right with it, when the road unwinds,
I can handle whatever I stumble upon,
I don't even notice she's gone,
Most of the time.

Most of the time
It's well understood,
Most of the time
I wouldn't change it if I could,
I can't make it all match up, I can hold my own,
I can deal with the situation right down to the bone,
I can survive, I can endure
And I don't even think about her
Most of the time.

Most of the time
My head is on straight,
Most of the time
I'm strong enough not to hate.
I don't build up illusion 'till it makes me sick,
I ain't afraid of confusion no matter how thick
I can smile in the face of mankind.
Don't even remember what her lips felt like on mine
Most of the time.

Most of the time
She ain't even in my mind,
I wouldn't know her if I saw her
She's that far behind.
Most of the time
I can't even be sure
If she was ever with me
Or if I was with her.

Most of the time
I'm halfway content,
Most of the time
I know exactly where I went,
I don't cheat on myself, I don't run and hide,
Hide from the feelings, that are buried inside,
I don't compromised and I don't pretend,
I don't even care if I ever see her again
Most of the time.


WHAT GOOD AM I?

What good am I if I'm like all the rest,
If I just turned away, when I see how you're dressed,
If I shut myself off so I can't hear you cry,
What good am I?

What good am I if I know and don't do,
If I see and don't say, if I look right through you,
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin' sky,
What good am I?

What good am I while you softly weep
And I hear in my head what you say in your sleep,
And I freeze in the moment like the rest who don't try,
What good am I?

What good am I then to others and me
If I've had every chance and yet still fail to see
Bridge: If my hands tied must I not wonder within
Who tied them and why and where must I have been

What good am I if I say foolish things
And I laugh in the face of what sorrow brings
And I just turn my back while you silently die,
What good am I?


DISEASE OF CONCEIT

There's a whole lot of people suffering tonight
From the disease of conceit.
Whole lot of people struggling tonight
From the disease of conceit.
Comes right down the highway,
Straight down the line,
Rips into your senses
Through your body and your mind.
Nothing about it that's sweet,
The disease of conceit.

There's a whole lot of hearts breaking tonight
From the disease of conceit,
Whole lot of hearts shaking tonight
From the disease of conceit.
Steps into your room,
Eats your soul,
Over your senses
You have no control.
Ain't nothing too discreet
About of disease of conceit.

There's a whole lot of people dying tonight
From the disease of conceit,
Whole lot of people crying tonight
From the disease of conceit,
Comes right out of nowhere
And you're down for the count
From the outside world,
The pressure will mount,
Turn you into a piece of meat,
The disease of conceit.

Conceit is a disease
That the doctors got no cure
They've done a lot of research on it
But what it is, they're still not sure

There's a whole lot of people in trouble tonight
From the disease of conceit,
Whole lot of people seeing double tonight
From the disease of conceit,
Give ya delusions of grandeur
And a evil eye
Give you idea that
You're too good to die,
Then they bury you from your head to your feet
From the disease of conceit.


WHAT WAS IT YOU WANTED?

What was it you wanted?
Tell me again so I'll know.
What's happening in there,
What's going on in your show.
What was it you wanted,
Could you say it again?
I'll be back in a minute
You can get it together by then.

What was it you wanted
You can tell me, I'm back,
We can start it all over
Get it back on the track,
You got my attention,
Go ahead, speak.
What was it you wanted
When you were kissing my cheek?

Was there somebody looking
When you give me that kiss
Someone there in the shadows
Someone that I might have missed?
Is there something you needed,
Something I don't understand.
What was it you wanted,
Do I have it here in my hand?

Whatever you wanted
Slipped out of my mind,
Would you remind me again
If you'd be so kind.
Has the record been breaking,
Did the needle just skip,
Is there somebody waitin',
Was there a slip of the lip?

What was it you wanted
I ain't keepin' score
Are you the same person
That was here before?
Is it something important?
Maybe not.
What was it you wanted?
Tell me again I forgot.

Whatever you wanted
What could it be
Did somebody tell you
That you could get it from me,
Is it something that comes natural
Is it easy to say,
Why do you want it,
Who are you anyway?

Is the scenery changing,
Am I getting it wrong,
Is the whole thing going backwards,
Are they playing our song?
Where were you when it started
Do you want it for free
What was it you wanted
Are you talking to me?


SHOOTING STAR

Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of you.
You were trying to break into another world
A world I never knew.
I always kind of wondered
If you ever made it through.
Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of you.

Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me.
If I was still the same
If I ever became what you wanted me to be
Did I miss the mark or
Over-step the line
That only you could see?
Seen a shooting star tonight
And I thought of me.

Listen to the engine, listen to the bell
As the last fire truck from hell
Goes rolling by, all good people are praying,
It's the last temptation
The last account
The last time you might hear the sermon on the mount,
The last radio is playing.

Seen a shooting star tonight
Slip Away.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Guess it's too late to say the things to you
That you needed to hear me say.
Seen a shooting star tonight
Slip away.

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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