My best friend, Billy, and I saw Dylan here in LA about three years ago and you CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE how terrible it was. It was FUCKING TERRIBLE. I’m talking TERRIBLE WITH RAISINS. He was inexplicably in whiteface and wearing a black Stetson and he never made eye contact with either band nor audience once during the entire show. It was like watching a completely insane, socially-anxious, kabuki cowboy croak and warble at the ground for an hour. NEVER. AGAIN. You just gotta trust me on this one, kids. The genius who wrote “Gates of Eden” and “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleedin’) no longer exists.
But goddamnit, listening to the samples of these holiday songs on Amazon (Dylan condescendingly smirking his way through “Here Comes Santa Claus”? HA!), I will say this: The wise man may be dead, but THE HOLY FOOL LIVES ON. It’s SO NO-talent, that it does a double-helix, Greg Louganis reverse back around upon itself and becomes ALL-talent again. This album is both a complete BELLY LAUGH and an absolute OUTRAGE — sort of like me structuring my precious days to accommodate my Nancy Grace habit. Yes, she, like Bob Dylan, is completely out of her fucking mind — but I wouldn’t have it any other way.