CONTRIBUTOR LEX MILLER on coming to terms with Saved and Christianity

Sometime in the early 1980s I walked into a record shop on Queen St., Auckland and saw a bargain bin full of the fairly recent Bob Dylan release, Saved.

The cover had a hand reaching down from the sky to touch the hands of the “saved”, although in later editions that cover was replaced by one with more palatable artwork. The shock of Dylan’s latest transition, to born-again Christian, was still raw, and although I was still young I understood the importance that was placed on Dylan, and how his conversion to Christianity had shaken the rock establishment.

And not just any type of Christianity - This was a particularly evangelical type of fundamentalism that was on the rise in America in the early ‘80s.

I bought the record, partly because it was cheap, and I was collecting any record I could afford that stemmed in some way from either the Beatles, Woodstock, or the 1960s in general. I was also intrigued and willing to give it a go.

I have never had any knee-jerk hostility regarding religion. The description of religion used by people who do never seems to match my experience. So I bought the record and gave it a listen, but in the background the music press were scathing. Rolling Stone’s album guide gives it one star.

Dylan made three albums during his Christian period. There was Slow Train Coming, in which members of Dire Straits were recruited. Then came Saved, a more gospel flavoured album. The third album was Shot of Love.

When he put out Infidels after that, the fans and press were relieved that he seemed to be coming out the other side. The Dylan Christian period could then be closed and talked about in retrospect.

I now know more about the history of popular music, and more about Dylan’s music. I can see how he was drawn to the sort of fundamentalist gospel that he used on these albums. He has always borrowed from old testament language.

He seems to like both the poetry of it and the no nonsense aspect. “I know all about poison, I know all about fiery darts”. Not so much the “way over yonder” style lyrics of Gospel music, but more the “terrible swift sword” - The warnings of the prophets.

This side road on Dylan’s journey may not have been inevitable, but looking back, I don’t think it was completely out of character.

And stepping back from Dylan - and I say this as an outsider - American rock music has always been about God and sin, and resisting temptation, and failing to resist. Elvis, Little Richard, Johnny Cash. They all lived life as a battlefield for the soul.

Giving it all up and returning to religion, then falling back into their old ways. It’s a part of that early rock ‘n’ roll, and is central to the aesthetic of American popular music. In fact that’s part of what made English rock so different.

The English loved the American rock ‘n’ roll and tried to imitate it. But English ‘60s music tended to be more childlike and playful. Religion in England was more about the vicar popping round for tea. The result of that partially successful English imitation of American music produced the generation of English rock aristocracy that still fill arenas today.

In that sense, Dylan turning sharply away from sin and towards God certainly does not make him seem out of place as an American musician.

But Dylan is seen as a white intellectual musician.

The press seems to take it for granted that Aretha Franklin or Marvin Gaye will sing religious songs, and gospel music from Elvis and Johnny Cash will also be respected. But not from Dylan. The counterfactual is difficult. We can’t imagine Dylan as a black musician without everything else changing.

Some fans were just turned off because Dylan no longer spoke for them. I can understand that.

Although I would offer the observation that sometimes appreciation of music is more than agreeing with the message.

Rock musicians tend to live extreme lives. I might marvel at Keith Richards, with his image as a reckless 1970s rockstar. I would admit that the romanticism of that image is part of my enjoyment of the music of the Rolling Stones, but I would not consider their song lyrics to be solid advice on how to live one’s life.

I would enjoy them more as you might enjoy a play or a film … It’s more than that - More than a play or film you really feel the music and that freedom that it conveys. In a way, the musicians live that life in your stead.

Take another look at the album, and that period in Dylan’s career. Half the songs on Saved are really good. They have a conviction and force. The band is top notch - even the music press at the time admitted that.

There are moments - When “Saving Grace” kicks in (“By this time, I’d a-thought that I’d have been sleeping…”). In “Pressing On”, (“Many try to stop me. Shake me up in my mind…”). And the harmonica solo in “What Can I Do for You?” is the best Dylan harmonica solo on any of his records.

His live shows of the time are full of energy, and have a slightly defiant tone to them, perhaps similar to the one he had when he toured with The Band in 1966, having “gone electric” - a tension in the air.

Dylan, through and through.

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Lex lives in Tokyo.

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