Robyn Hitchcock - Robyn Sings
(Editions PAF)

Hitchcock's first disk closely follows the setlist for the acoustic set from Dylan's Royal Albert Hall gig, tossing in a few recent ringers ("Tangled Up In Blue," "Not Dark Yet," and "Dignity") to replace the time-ravaged "Mr. Tambourine Man," "She Belongs To Me," and "Just Like A Woman." He introduces "Visions of Johanna" by admitting, "This is my favorite song. This is why I started writing songs," and then rolls off a spot-on interpretation, right down to the harmonica fillers. (In fact, it's such a favorite, that he also includes an electric version at the end of the set.) Most of the tracks find Hitchcock naked and alone on the stage without a net—just an acoustic guitar and his harp, and as such, the honesty and spontaneity of the performances shine through. In fact, "4th Time Around" has a rather comical touch of Robyn forgetting the lyrics, regrouping his thoughts, and then recovering without missing a beat. A lesser, more self-conscious talent would surely have edited this performance out in favor of a cleaner version, but Hitch just lays it out, warts and all, and, as he writes in his liner notes, it's these qualities of honesty, openness, and championing of our frailties that makes us all "human."

Not everything works, however. Hitchcock fights a losing battle with his voice on "Not Dark Yet" and also loses the melody along the way, and his basso profundo gravely delivery of "4th Time Around" sounds more like Leonard Cohen Does Dylan. The full band treatment of "Baby Blu," is rather straightforward, and Chocolate Watch Band has already recorded the definitive cover version, so we have to question its inclusion. The lack of audience participation in the middle of the set (which includes "Baby Blue" and "Desolation Row") seems to imply these are studio performances, and only Hitch would drag "Dignity" out of retirement, perhaps influenced by Dylan's decision to include it in his MTV Unplugged recording. Nevertheless, if you enjoyed the original acoustic Royal Albert Hall disk from the recent archival box set or are still diggin' Dylan Unplugged, there's bound to be something here to bring a smile and a knowing nod of appreciation.

As to the sacrilegious electric set, it's a song-for-song recreation, right down to the unintelligible mumbling leading up to Dylan's famous admonition at the start of "One Too Many Mornings," "If only you wouldn't clap so hard." I was cleaning coffee out of the keyboard for hours after that one! The credits also portray Hitchcock and his band as Dylan and The Hawks, lending another layer to the homage: Hitchcock and his band are not just playing these songs, but are in effect portraying Dylan and The Hawks as if they were part of a documentary film.

If anything is missing, it's the sense of anger and astonishment from the audience at Dylan's transition into the electronic age. Hence, the Monday morning quarterbacks in the audience cheer wildly at Hitch's recreation of these events from the 60s, rather than appreciating his interpretation of some of his favorite songs. I got the feeling that the punters were hanging on every word just to see how close Hitchcock could get to the original. It was also a bit annoying hearing cries of "Judas" in at least a half dozen different spots, as if this was some sort of surreal crowd participation exercise. And for all its pinpoint accuracy, I can't understand why Hitchcock elects to omit Dylan's famous retort, "I don't believe you... you're a liar." But these are minor quibbles in an otherwise fascinating glimpse into what makes Hitchcock tick. Do yourself a favor and track this down and enjoy a blistering set by a hot band with Hitchcock holding the audience in the palm of his hand, obviously loving what he is doing... and doing it so well.

jeff penczak 2003 jan 17