Great song, great video. Instead of the standard face-shots and lip-synching, the video concentrates on illustrating the wealth of mythological and classical allusions in the lyrics. The overwhelming majority of videos diminish the underlying songs, turning them into nothing more than soundtracks for junky little movies. This one actually points the way to a better understanding of one of Bob Dylan’s more enigmatic epics, one that repays continued attention.
A rocked-out version of “Jokerman” was the highlight of Dylan’s first-ever appearance on David Letterman’s show in 1984. His Bobness had brought together some young, tough-sounding L.A. musicians for a number of private sessions. They quickly learned that backing up Bob Dylan is not a job for the faint of heart. For the first of the three numbers, Dylan decided he wanted Sonny Boy Williamson’s “Don’t Start Me Talking,” which they hadn’t even rehearsed. Fortunately, the musicians had grown up on the New York Dolls version of the song, and they acquitted themselves quite well:For the next segment, Dylan picked “License to Kill,” one of the crankiest numbers on a pretty cranky album:
But for sheer audacity, the stripped-down version of “Jokerman” stands as one of the great Dylan deconstructions of his own music. I love the interplay Dylan arranged on the album version — the impeccable smoothness of Sly and Robbie on the rhythm section, the blend of Mark Knopfler and Mick Taylor on guitars — but this “Jokerman” points the way down a promising road Dylan ought to have taken, but didn’t:
All the kerfuffle towards the end of the song happened because Dylan wanted to do a harmonica solo and found the only available harp was in the wrong key. A suitable instrument was finally located, and a classic Dylan performance — all the better for the element of near-disaster — careered to a close.
According to Clinton Heylin’s biography Behind the Shades, Dylan was prevailed upon to abandon his punk backup and hire a bunch of pros for the same year’s tour of Europe. The not terribly interesting results were released on Real Live, which vies with Dylan and the Dead for the title of crappiest concert album in the Dylan catalogue. Oh well. The Eighties were not a great decade for Bob Dylan, and such compulsive second-guessing of his initial good instincts was a big part of the reason why.
STEVENHARTSITE 