In the introduction to Bob Dylan: The Recording Sessions, Clinton Heylin puts Dylan's studio methods in sharp relief against those of The Beatles. Holed up in the winter of 1966-67, the lads from Liverpool labored for 129 days over Sgt. Pepper's. Zoom out to Dylan who, from 1962's eponymous debut to 1975's Desire, suffered to spend all of 99 days behind the doors of Columbia's studios! With this book, Heylin provides a close look at the successes and failures of Dylan's self-described "Go in, cut it, and get the fuck out" recording philosophy.
In his exploration of every available inch of tape touched by Dylan's voice, Heylin is eminently thorough without being tedious, and his telling of this history is inspired. The book presents one album per chapter, each one prefaced with a sessionography culled from Columbia's cardex system, studio sheets, and even tape boxes. Every take of every song is listed, noting the date and musicians present. Following this hard info is the story of the album's making. Anecdotes from producers and session players are mixed in with Heylin's own speculations on what was going on in Dylan's head. Much is illuminated, although there are more than a few unsolved mysteries as to who played on what tracks, etc.
Although clearly a fan, Heylin spends as much time criticizing Dylan's judgment as he does laud- ing the results. Throughout his recording career, Dylan has made questionable decisions. As early as his second LP, 1963's The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, he has tended to discard songs recorded early-on in a set of sessions. Halfway through recording an album, he would change the album's direction and in the process throw away some of what Heylin believes to be his finest moments. Later (around the time of Blonde on Blonde), we see Dylan showing up at sessions "with barely more than fragments of a lyric [and] half a melody," hoping to "bring it into focus in the studio." Or still later, during the Street Legal sessions in '78, how he insisted on recording live in the studio with a band using stage monitors instead of headphones! Not surpris- ingly, the result was a "sixteen-track morass."
But there is also much to be learned from Dylan's approach, where the focus is on performance over perfection. Sure, he was a long time in utilizing modern multitrack techniques we take for granted, like tracking vocals after the rhythm tracks are in place. But the speed gained by cutting everything live freed him up to do multiple takes. And he would use these multiple takes to try out different approaches to a song- altering tempos, trying different accompaniments, and even swapping verses. Jazz musicians have long embraced this measure of variety between takes, but in the world of rock it remains unusual. You think instead of the Beach Boys or My Bloody Valentine going over and over the same stretch of tape, building the layers higher and deeper. Granted, in contrast many of Dylan's recording efforts were very hit-or-miss. But he hit often enough, and when he did it was thrillingly direct in a way that labor-intensive layering cannot be. (New York, NY: St. Martin's Press, 1995)