In Defense Of: Bob Dylan’s Christian Era

In Defense Of is our new series in which musicians tell us about a widely maligned, but personally beloved song, record, or artist that they think hasn’t gotten a fair shake. To kick things off, Chat Pile’s Raygun Busch makes the case for a reappraisal of Bob Dylan’s Christian era. Chat Pile’s latest record, Cool World, is out now. 
— Annie Fell, Editor-in-chief, Talkhouse Music 

We all know a person who suddenly adopts an identity and goes all the way with it, before suddenly switching to something else. Bob Dylan is the ultimate version of that guy. I cannot think of another artist who has such a rich variety of musical eras as he, and for the most part, they are all interesting, if not pretty good. The reputation of the folk records and the subsequent “electric” period is well-storied and earned — most of us have a moment as we come of age when we finally hear the entirety of Another Side of.. or Highway 61 Revisited and are wowed by this guy — it’s properly rated shit. But then by 1969, he’s gone full country and is using a different voice and it’s also, somehow, excellent. A couple of classics and some of his weirdest later, he’s in full renaissance mode, wearing silly hats, painting his face white and producing exemplary, career-best material like Desire and Blood on the Tracks. It isn’t until 1978’s Street Legal that Bob shows any real weakness from what I can hear. But aside from that minor blip in an otherwise ironclad discography, Bob was on a roll like few have ever rolled, and believe me when I say: this roll continued as he briefly found Jesus.  

I don’t believe in God at all, but I do believe that quality art comes from passion, and Bob happened to be extremely passionate about Christ, which threw a lot of people off and still does. I suppose at the time, the press and the public were wary of things like Godspell, Jesus Christ Superstar, Jonestown — hippie, Jesus freak stuff. However, you and I are living in the post-Jesus Freak (dc Talk) era. With that perspective, we can hear Dylan’s Christian material with a clear mind, and what I hear is wonderful. Dylan went all in on Christ and made serious art, naysayers be damned, and in delightful turn of events, his Christian material rocks harder than anything he ever did in the studio before or after.

The first record of this three-album cycle, 1979’s Slow Train Coming, is the most easy to digest to the average Dylan fan, and certainly the most accepted critically. If it sounds like Dire Straits, that’s because half of the band is on it, and the record sounds a lot like their immortal second record Communique, with Mark Knopfler and Pick Withers making the music dark and muscular in a way Bob had never captured in the studio before. The lead-off track, “Gotta Serve Somebody,” is so badass they ended a Sopranos episode with it. The record also marks Bob’s first foray into reggae with “Man Gave Names to All the Animals,” which works beautifully. Dylan’s Christian period was off to a bold start, but the best was yet to come.

Compared to 1980’s Saved, Slow Train Coming feels like a mere proof of concept. Saved is probably best described as “gospel rock,” but don’t let that scare you. The beautiful Knopfler/Withers vibe present on the previous record is in the rearview, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the weeds. On the contrary, the production on this record is incredible. The full integration of gospel into his music ends up meshing seamlessly. “Pressing On,” a thrilling slow burn ballad at the center of the album represents the pinnacle of this concept. Elsewhere, the album offers many surprising and welcome touches, with “What Can I Do For You?” recalling April Wine, of all bands, with its lead guitar line, and “Solid Rock” sounding like Dylan sitting in with Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem — pretty wonderful stuff, and all throughout the record, Bob is simply singing his ass off, which is so much fun to hear.

Speaking of fun, 1981’s Shot of Love, the final chapter in this strange and rocking era, is not only the finest of the three, it’s one of Dylan’s best albums, period. A true culmination of what’s come before, all of the new elements present on the previous two records is turned up all the way here and Bob is almost mocking us now with what he can get away with. For instance, there’s a song here called “Property of Jesus,” and it’s damn near the hardest Dylan ever rocked in the studio. I know some people out there might be shaking with rage reading this, but here’s the deal: the much lauded “electric” period sounds very thin and shrill. You know I’m not lying. A product of its time, sure, but to my ears it just doesn’t hit like the full-bodied majesty of Shot of Love, the mix of which is quite astounding. The band he’s working with is a similar set-up as heard on the previous two records, but there is a wonderful layer of auxiliary percussion present on most of the tracks, which yields a raggedy, exciting flavor to the record that makes repeat listens very rewarding. And you’ll come back, too, because the material here is excellent: Dylan, fully obsessed with Christ, is undeniably at the top of his game here lyrically, turning something like aforementioned “Property of Jesus” — which sounds like a doomed concept on paper — into such an impassioned barn burner. “Watered Down Love” is another song very plainly about Jesus that simply rocks harder than would ever expect. The raucous looseness on so many of these tracks and the true joy you can hear in Dylan’s performance across the record is wildly infectious. Not to mention, Dylan’s final Christian record features some of the most luminous ballads of his career with “Every Grain of Sand” and “In the Summertime.” Shot of Love is excellent.

However, Dylan predictably moved on from the Christian material in a short amount of time, and those albums seemingly got filed away as a curious phase. His next record, 1983’s Infidels, was hailed by some as a return to form, but despite opening with the majestic all-timer “Jokerman,” the album quickly runs out of gas, sporting truly ugly digital production and some of the worst musical and lyrical ideas of Bob’s career. The passion, too, was notably absent in the ensuing years as Dylan released a barrage of subpar albums where he either seemed nakedly thirsty or completely aloof or both. We all know he came back hard in 1997 with Time Out of Mind, and then the incredible late career masterpiece, 2001’s Love and Theft, but in many ways the Christian period represents the climax of classic, unassailable Dylan. For some reason, Jesus made Bob Dylan want to rock out, and he did and we’re all richer for it. Again, I don’t believe in God at all and I’m in love with this era of his career. How could I deny such passionate work? How can you? Do yourself a favor and check out those records.