"What is this shit?"
That’s how Greil Marcus started his review in Rolling Stone back in 1970. He wasn’t just being a jerk; he was voicing the collective brain-melt of an entire generation. Imagine you’re a 1960s radical. You think Bob Dylan is the prophet. You think he has the answers to the Vietnam War, the civil rights movement, and the very meaning of existence. Then, he drops a double album where he sings "Blue Moon" and covers Paul Simon.
Honestly, it’s one of the gutsiest moves in music history. It was a professional suicide attempt that somehow turned into a masterpiece fifty years later. But back then? People were actually mad. They felt betrayed.
The Mystery of Self Portrait Bob Dylan
When we talk about self portrait bob dylan, we aren’t just talking about a record. We are talking about a guy trying to light his own house on fire so people would stop staring through the windows. Dylan was being hounded. People were literally digging through his trash in Woodstock. He had a family, he had kids, and he wanted to be a father, not a "spokesman."
So, he went into the studio and recorded... well, everything. He did traditional folk songs like "Little Sadie." He did contemporary covers. He included live tracks from the Isle of Wight that sounded sort of loose and unrehearsed.
The title itself, Self Portrait, was the ultimate troll.
By calling a bunch of covers his "self-portrait," he was basically saying, "I am made of the music I listen to, not the songs you want me to write." Or, more likely, he was just trying to confuse everyone so they’d leave him alone. He even told Playboy years later that he did it to get people off his back. It worked. People stopped buying his records for a minute. They started looking for a new messiah.
Why the Critics Hated It (And Why They Were Wrong)
The production on the 1970 release was a bit of a mess. Bob Johnston, the producer, layered on these thick, syrupy strings and backup singers. It sounded like "easy listening" music. For a fan base that wanted "Subterranean Homesick Blues," hearing Dylan croon over Mantovani-style strings was a slap in the face.
But here’s the thing: Dylan’s voice on this album is actually incredible.
He was using that "Nashville Skyline" croon—smooth, rich, and totally different from the rasp of his mid-60s peak. If you listen to "Copper Kettle," you hear a singer who actually loves the craft of singing. He wasn't trying to change the world; he was just enjoying the melody.
- The "Bootleg" Factor: In 2013, Columbia released Another Self Portrait. This was the game-changer. It stripped away the overproduced strings and showed the raw sessions.
- The David Bromberg Connection: Much of the record is just Dylan and David Bromberg on guitar. It’s intimate. It’s folk music in its purest form.
- The Narrative: We now realize this wasn't a "bad" album. It was a transitional phase. Without the experimentation of 1970, we never get Blood on the Tracks in 1975.
What Really Happened in the Studio
The sessions were chaotic. Dylan would show up in Nashville or New York and just start playing. The session musicians, guys like Charlie McCoy and Kenneth Buttrey, had to just keep up. Sometimes they'd record a song and then Dylan would just move on to the next one without a second take.
There's a famous story about the song "All the Tired Horses." Dylan doesn't even sing on it. It’s just a group of women singing the same two lines over and over: "All the tired horses in the sun / How'm I supposed to get any riding done?"
Some people think it’s a metaphor for writer's block. Others think it’s just a joke. To be fair, it’s probably both. Dylan was exhausted. He was "tired."
The Long-Term Legacy of the Record
It’s funny how time works. In 1970, this was a "C-" album. Today, most serious Dylanologists (yes, that’s a real term) rank it as a fascinatng, essential piece of the puzzle. It represents the moment the 60s died and the 70s began. It’s the sound of a man reclaiming his own identity by refusing to be what others wanted.
If you’re looking to get into self portrait bob dylan, don’t start with the 1970 original. You’ll probably find the strings a bit much. Instead, go straight to The Bootleg Series Vol. 10: Another Self Portrait.
Listen to "Pretty Saro." It’s a traditional English ballad that Dylan sings with so much soul it’ll make your hair stand up. It was recorded during the same era but left off the original album. Why? Because Bob Dylan is Bob Dylan. He hides his best work.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener
If you want to truly appreciate this era of Dylan’s career, follow these steps:
- Listen to "Another Self Portrait" first. The 2013 release has the "naked" versions of these songs. It's much easier to digest and reveals the true quality of the performances.
- Contextualize the "Spokesman" Burden. Read a bit about Dylan's life in Woodstock around 1969. Understanding his desire for privacy makes the "badness" of the original album seem like a brilliant survival tactic.
- Focus on the Covers. Don't look for deep lyrical meaning in the songs Dylan didn't write. Just listen to his phrasing. This is Dylan the singer, not Dylan the poet.
- Watch the Isle of Wight Footage. You can find clips of this performance online. Seeing him with The Band, looking totally different from his 1966 "thin wild mercury" look, helps you see the physical transformation he was going through.
The 1970 self portrait bob dylan wasn't a mistake. It was a declaration of independence. It was a messy, weird, beautiful "no" to the world's expectations. And honestly? We need more artists who are willing to be that "bad" just to stay sane.
