Newsweek just published its list of best albums of the decade, and Bob Dylan's "Love and Theft", released on 9/11/2001, is #2.

Read Newsweek's article here.

Find out more about "Love and Theft".

See Bob Dylan's new performance of Woody Guthrie's classic song "Do Re Mi" with Ry Cooder and Van Dyke Parks in the television documentary The People Speak on History, Sunday, December 13

Trailer and more info: http://www.history.com/peoplespeak

The film, coproduced by Josh Brolin, Matt Damon, Howard Zinn, Chris Moore, and Anthony Arnove, is the long awaited documentary film inspired by Howard Zinn's books A People's History of the United States.

The video for "Little Drummer Boy," illustrated by Jeff Scher, premieres today on Amazon. Jeff is a regular contributor to the NYT.com/Opinion section with his blog, "The Animated Life."

Watch The Video

From culturemap:

Isn't it ironic? Dylan surprises again with holiday CD
By Douglas Newman
December 02, 2009 at 7:00 PM

Earlier this fall, when news broke that Bob Dylan would be cutting an album full of age-old Christmas standards, my friend Jim (a fellow uber-fan) and I engaged in a lively discussion of what might follow. "Why in God's name," Jim asked, "would Dylan pull a stunt like this, especially during such a remarkable late-career creative resurgence?" His fear was that it would be a "miscalculation of epic proportions, a folly that would make 'Self Portrait' look like his magnum opus."

My initial response was that Dylan's a subversive motherfucker with major bottle (read: cahones) and a great sense of humor. Besides, he probably has something valuable to add to the usual staid Christmas classics. Lord knows they could use an injection of some grit. "Jim," I said, "let's not underestimate the man. Anybody who can churn out such brilliance as 'Visions of Johanna' and 'Cold Irons Bound' deserves the benefit of the doubt." And with that, Jim and I decided to reserve judgment.

A month later I listened to the album, branded aptly enough with an over-saccharine holiday title, "Christmas in the Heart." And there it was, our generation's finest songwriter (and a Jewish one at that), surrounded by a bevy of chirping Ray Conniff-esque backing vocalists playing 15 holiday standards totally straight. Not a smirk or wink in sight.

Surreal? That's an understatement. A colossal miscalculation on par with the "Self Portrait" debacle of 1970? Not even close. While it certainly confirms his Colbert-sized testicles and a penchant for sly humor, more than anything else it solidifies his standing as a master stylist whose interpretive skills nearly match his songwriting acumen.

Once I got over the initial shock of hearing Dylan in such a warm and fuzzy setting, I soon realized that his haggard croak and simple arrangements added new life to these old chestnuts. "Silver Bells" is rendered as a stately waltz with an underpinning of pedal steel and Dylan's overly-deliberate delivery. "Little Drummer Boy" marches along at a mellow pace, nudged forward by a haunting guitar reverb and steady drum roll, all of which is layered beneath Dylan's vocal and the harmonies of a female back up singer. You can almost envision this song sitting alongside some of the darker tracks on "Oh Mercy" or "Time Out of Mind."

One of the highlights of the album is the straightforward, jazzy treatment of the timeless "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," a rendition Jim describes as "splitting the difference between the hopeful Frank Sinatra version and the morbid Judy Garland take." It's a Christmas classic spiked with a shot of whiskey that adds a refreshing roughness around the edges. Still safe for the traditionalists, but skewed just enough for the cynics. Indeed, that description pretty much sums up the entire album.

Never one to be predictable (anybody who's seen the man live can attest to this) or sentimental (ditto), Dylan dared to claim the Christmas canon as his own. That he manages to redefine these beloved yuletide songs all the while staying respectful to what's come before is a testament to his great taste and remarkable execution. How's that for a refreshing dose of holiday cheer?

Bob Dylan has been nominated for 2009 Grammy Awards in the "Best Solo Rock Vocal Performance" category, for "Beyond Here Lies Nothin'" from Together Through Life, and in the "Best Americana Album" category, for Together Through Life.

Buy "Christmas in the Heart" at one of these indie stores and get a free 7" single (and feed a hungry person)

From the McAlester News-Capital (Oklahoma)

Something was happening, but we're not sure what it was.
James Beaty has some insight into Dylan's Tulsa show
By James Beaty
Senior Editor

"I'm just a song and dance man."
Bob Dylan -- 1965

Beneath a waxing moon on a crisp autumn night, Bob Dylan strode onto the stage at the Brady Theater in Tulsa and used his masterful musical mojo to reinvent himself once again.

For much of the performance, Dylan stepped from behind the keyboards where he's spent most of his of time performing in recent years, and stood, sans guitar, behind a lone microphone on center stage.

Dressed in shiny black boots, black trousers with white piping, a round-rimmed black Goucho hat, a white shirt and -- of course -- a long, black coat, Dylan resembled a hipster Zorro, or maybe a more congenial phantom of the Brady, who might have swung down from one of the ropes backstage at the majestic old theater.

At times extolling the audience, pointing at them, holding his hand over his heart, or making sweeping grand gestures, Dylan continued his exploration of American music. He exuded a new stage presence, holding a microphone center stage and belting out tunes in the style of -- yep -- a song and dance man.

It's fitting that he did it in a classic theater, such as the Brady. From where I sat, in the second row at stage right, I could see catwalks and ropes looming high behind him.

It seems as if two types of people go to see Dylan in concert these days -- those who are seeing him for the first time and are hoping to hear "Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits," and those who have seen him many times before and are hoping to hear a set filled with rarities and his remarkable newer songs.

I'm sure plenty of those who were jammed into the 2,800-seat capacity Brady Theater on the night of Oct. 24 were hard-core admirers of Dylan and were pumped because guitarist extraordinaire Charlie Sexton had rejoined the band just a few weeks earlier in Seattle, Washington -- adding another dimension to an already outstanding ensemble.

And some were no doubt praying that Dylan would open the Brady concert with "Gonna Change My Way of Thinking," a little-performed gem from his 1979 Christian music album "Slow Train Coming" -- something he'd already done several times since the current tour started on Oct. 4.

Following an introduction which ended with "Ladies and gentlemen, Columbia recording artist Bob Dylan," the stage lights arose and the band tore into a thunderous opening riff.

"As Dylan sang "Gonna change my way of thinkin," a man to my right shot from his seat like he'd been jolted with electricity, with both fists extended high in the air -- making it fairly obvious which song he'd hoped would open the concert.

Dylan does something few major recording artists do. He shuffles his set list every night. I once read a post from a guy who'd gone to see Dylan three nights in a row and heard 40 different songs.

Dylan also rearranges his songs in concert and sometimes changes the lyrics. In the recorded version of "Gonna Change My Way of Thinking," Dylan, full of fire and brimstone, had sang "Jesus said 'Be ready, for you know not the hour in which I come."'

At the Brady though, Dylan revised it to "Jesus is coming, coming to gather His jewels."

Dylan whipped up another rarity on the concert's second song, "The Man in Me," from 1970s "New Morning." He dispensed with singing the opening "la-la-las" which had been on the original recording and instead, on the new version, steel guitar player Donnie Herron blew a trumpet while Dylan wailed away on a harmonica.

Dylan gave his raspiest vocal performance of the night on the song, but the pipes had cleared by the time he and the band ripped into "Beyond Here Lies Nothing" -- a minor-keyed journey "through boulevards of broken cars" from Dylan's recent number one album "Together Through Life."

With Dylan constantly rearranging his songs, it's often difficult to guess what's coming next from the instrumental introductions alone.

While Dylan and the band played what sounded like the opening to a lilting, winsome country waltz, he suddenly leaned forward and sang about poor Hattie Carroll, murdered by a wealthy man "with a cane that he twirled 'round his diamond ring finger."

With Dylan's performance of "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll," his 1963 indictment of injustice in America following the revved up "Beyond Here Lies Nothing," it began to sound like this might be a special concert indeed.

Dylan has what many of his admirers consider one of the best rhythm sections in music: His longtime bass guitarist Tony Garnier and drummer George Recile. As they started playing with a pounding, driving beat, Dylan sang the opening lines to "Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum," a morality tale from his 2001 masterwork, "Love and Theft."

Dylan stood behind his keyboards, bumping and grinding like some early-day Elvis, as Sexton stalked the stage like a panther, shooting stinging riffs right and left, up and down. The newly unleashed Stu Kimball, who'd been restricted to mostly playing rhythm guitar at some previous concerts I'd seen, released some lightning volleys himself, holding his own while going head-to-head with the great Sexton.

Although Dylan had made a brief trip to center stage earlier for "The Man in Me," the maestro next decided to fully introduce the new Dylan to the Brady

With steel guitarist Herron picking a mandolin, Sexton playing a Dobro and Garnier now plucking a stand-up acoustic bass, the sounds of a Mexican cantina band emanated from the stage as Dylan used two microphones -- one for his voice and another for harmonica -- to give a poignant vocal and harp performance on the beguiling, Latin-tinged, "This Dream of You" -- another new song from this year's "Together Through Life."

Following the gentle sounds of "This Dream," Dylan and the boys now unfurled the fury of "Cold Irons Bound" from his 1997 Grammy-winning album "Time Out of Mind."

With a cacophony of blues-grunge licks erupting from Sexton's and Kimball's guitars, and with Garnier and Recile beating out their own rhythmic dins, Dylan spat out his words in a soul-shaking rasp about aloneness and isolation, about being 20 miles out of town and "cold irons bound."

Dylan stood stage-center and bent double, blowing a harmonica solo powerful enough to shake the bones of Howlin' Wolf. Sexton crouched to the floor, carefully caressing notes from his guitar before catapulting them into the ether with timing so sharp that it seemed to split seconds.

While the crowd thundered its enthusiasm, Dylan started to calm things down once more.

Dylan doesn't utilize a light show, per se, but instead uses more theatrical style of lighting, perfectly suited for the Brady. As the stage lights resembled hundreds of twinkling stars on the huge dark curtain behind him, Dylan returned to the keyboard for "Po' Boy," a song from "Love & Theft" with lyrics both poignant and humorous, about a "poor boy 'neath the stars that shine, washin' them dishes, feedin' them swine."

Dylan and the band were ready to roar, with Dylan staying behind the keyboard for powerful, dynamic-punched versions of "Honest With Me" and "Highway 61 Revisited." The two blues-rockers bookended the lazy soul-romp of the 2009 song "I Feel a Change Comin' On."

"Some people they tell me, I've got the blood of the land in my voice," Dylan sang -- and a couple of songs later, he proved it.

Again standing center stage, holding just a microphone and a harmonica, Dylan gave one of the most heartfelt vocals I've ever heard -- "Workingman's Blues # 2," a prophetic song from his 2006 masterpiece "Modern Times."

Now, with Dylan looking like a world-weary circuit-riding preacher who's just emgerged from the haunted woods, his voice floated through the Brady, filled with empathy for everyone with the ''workingman's blues."

With every word ringing clear, Dylan sang "The buyin' power of the proletariat's gone down, money's getting shallow and weak," followed a few lines later by "They say low wages are a reality, if we want to compete abroad."

A lot of working men and women must have been seated in the Brady, because spontaneous cheers of agreement arose when Dylan sang "Some people never worked a day in their life, don't know what work even means."

When Dylan served up a double shot of "Modern Times" songs by breaking into a rocking version of "Thunder on the Mountain" that had much of the crowd (including many in the balcony) literally dancing in the aisles, I figured that might be the end of the main set.

Fortunately, I was wrong.

Dylan strode once more to center stage and proceeded to show the Brady why he's the stuff of legend.

With the theatrical lighting shining an orange-yellowish glow on the performers and with lower lighting casting their dark, giant shadows on the curtain behind them like some group of rhythmically-inclined, bone-bending scarecrows, the band began the eerie, minor chord intro into 1965's "Ballad of a Thin Man."

Taking the stage with an evangelistic fervor, Dylan drew the listeners into a nightmare vision filled with geeks, freaks, sword swallowers and a bewildered protagonist who is unknowing and ignorant -- but oh so far from being filled with bliss.

"And you know something's happening, but you don't know what it is, do you... Mr. Jones?" Dylan sang in the shimmering oranage and yellow hues as the minor chords slammed together and the looming shadows kept up their frantic, ghostly dance.

As the song ended, the Brady sat filled with silence for a few seconds, as some people around me literally sank back in their seats, momentarily overwhelmed by the performance.

Then, the Brady erupted into a huge roar, as those who weren't already standing abruptly rose to their feet. Dylan and the band left the stage for several minutes before returning for a three-song encore of "Like a Rolling Stone," the new rockabilly-spiced "Jolene" and a revelatory "All Along the Watchtower."

As I left the Brady, I primarily saw two looks on many people's faces -- looks of either joy, or awe.

Not bad for a song and dance man.

Watch Bob Dylan's new video for "Must Be Santa" from Christmas In The Heart

Rolling Stone's article about the video.

Order Christmas In The Heart

Christmas in the Heart (180g Vinyl with Bonus CD)

Bob Dylan, still rollin'

By Maxwell Webster | The News Record (University of Cincinnati)

Published: Thursday, November 5, 2009

The standing room only crowd was a mixed up bunch. Burnt out hipsters looking for that one last hit of nostalgia, glossy-eyed college students, mop-headed teenagers, clusters of oxford clad businessmen, haggard old groupies and the just plain curious. The delegates of three generations crammed together on the floor of Columbus' Lifestyle Communities Pavilion Tuesday, Nov. 3, waiting for Rock and Roll's poet laureate to step onto the stage.

When Dylan finally emerged dressed in a black suit with a pink shirt, tie and tuxedo stripe and a wide-brimmed black top hat, the crowd erupted and Dylan wasted no time diving straight into a 17- song tour de force.

It becomes obvious when he begins that this isn't the Bob Dylan of the '60s - alone on a stage strumming an acoustic guitar, whining out folk songs. For one thing, Dylan's voice has become so faint that it's impossible for him to hit the notes that trademarked his early sound. You can see right away that the band's hardline blues drive is meant to work with Dylan's vocal regression.

The days of Dylan playing guitar through an entire set are also gone. Only a few times did he venture out from behind his keyboard and only once did he pick up a guitar.

With that said, the performance was nothing short of spectacular. Dylan might be 68, but he plays like a man possessed: jerking, grimacing, stomping, twisting and grinning with every note he pounded on his keys. It isn't the unbelievable stage raving antics of Mick Jagger, but Dylan is still sharp enough to work the crowd with every move he makes.

And although Dylan's voice now is something like marbles rattling inside a tin can, he's done a fantastic job rearranging his songs so they'll work with his vocal range. Classics like "All Along the Watchtower" and "Like a Rolling Stone" may be altered, but in such a way that their power is not lost.

Like any good show, though, the performance was a reflection of the crowd and they couldn't have been better. It's a peculiar thing, but somewhere in the middle of the set you are forced to realize that the crowd is just full of love and appreciation for this man. Shouts of, "Bobby D we love you!" and "Anything for you Bob!" seem to fall on deaf ears during the performance, with Dylan hardly lifting an eye in the crowds direction. But by the time the encore rolled around he couldn't help but smile back and the crowd's clamoring was finally answered when he said, "Thank You friends."

And let's not forget about the band, on their own they would be a show worth going to. Lead guitarist Johnny Sexton's fingers danced over the fret board and he squeezed every last drop out of his solos.

With the last round of "How does it feel," as Dylan took a bow and blew a kiss to his adoring fans, I was forced to wonder what has made this man the preeminent voice of American music for 50 years. The answer has to be that in every song the listener can see themselves: their own reality and their own dreams reflected and immortalized in a way that they could never communicate before.

An A+ to Dylan and to us, the fans, together through it all.

From Daily Gleaner

by Wilfred Langmaid

There will surely be people who hear the news that Bob Dylan's 47th and latest album is a Christmas offering and be filled with amusement and disbelief.

These people will then listen to Christmas In the Heart - a blend of 15 secular and sacred pieces done up in a pre-rock-era style and featuring Dylan's gnarly bleat of a voice front and centre in the mix - and be even more turned off.

These people just don't get it.

At its core, Christmas In the Heart is simply the latest of Bob Dylan's albums of the last dozen years which strip off all the veneer of being current and timely, harkening back instead to the very roots of music of the pre-war era. That his lived-in voice really is a perfect fit for the loose, limber, spare, and ably executed spin on roots music, which is Dylan of the last many years, is a bonus.

In the process, Christmas In the Heart is a perfect time capsule for the Christmas album/holiday season song phenomenon of the last 60 years - at least for my time capsule.

The central premise is that Dylan is the single-most significant musical figure of his lifetime. He revolutionized and popularized two musical idioms - first folk and then rock - in the first decade of his career.

If anything, this last decade of a 50-year career has been his most consistent decade since those halcyon days.

By its very nature, lacking the self-penned lyrics which are the diamonds among Dylan's jewelry, this album must be seen for what it is. It is certainly not the masterwork of his trilogy of comeback albums - 1997's Time Out Of Mind, 2001's Love And Theft, and 2006's Modern Times - or even the great collaboration with lyricist Robert Hunter, Together Through Life, from earlier this year.

At its very core, this album displays Dylan's sense of whimsy. However, it is anything but a contrived kick at the commercial can for a late-in-his-career nostalgia act. In fact, royalties from the sales of Christmas In The Heart will be donated to Feeding America in perpetuity.

So, yes, Christmas In The Heart is in substance and structure one of many yuletide albums by a veteran artist that will be coming out in these next few weeks. However, it is most accurately and tellingly understood as a cover album in the same seminal vein of fusing the roots of pop, rock, folk, blues, and related idioms of North American popular music of Dylan since Time Out Of Mind.

Granted, some of the moments work better than others; the actual carols are the most wobbly entries.

However, the best moments - rollicking treatments of songs like Here Comes Santa Claus and Must Be Santa, spare crooners like Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas and I'll Be Home For Christmas, and the cover most akin to his originals of the last dozen years The Christmas Blues - are wonderful.

All in all, this is a fun experiment that always charms and often dazzles.

Fredericton-based freelance writer Wilfred Langmaid has reviewed albums in The Daily Gleaner since 1981, and is a past judge for both the Junos and the East Coast Music Awards. His column appears each Saturday.

From the Chicago Tribune

Review: Bob Dylan at Aragon
Bob Gendron
Special to the Tribune
October 30, 2009

Bob Dylan didn't play any Christmas tunes from his new holiday album Thursday in front of a fair-sized crowd at Aragon. Performing the first show of a three-night stand, the feisty singer instead had disaster on his mind, rage in his heart and "the blood of the land" in his voice. And in virtuosic guitarist Charlie Sexton, who just rejoined the bard's group after an extended hiatus, the 68-year-old icon had a worthy foil to challenge him. In contrast to recent appearances that witnessed him hiding in the shadows, Dylan seemed reinvigorated, stepping out from behind the keyboard and moving to center stage on multiple occasions. He also took several turns on guitar.

Dressed in cowboy-style outfits, Dylan and his backing band looked as if they rode into town on horseback from a distant Texas ranch. South-of-the-border accents and chiaroscuro lighting added to the Old West atmosphere. So did Dylan's coarse singing. His raspy timbre often sounded like the cough of a soot-clogged furnace pipe--craggy, gritty, polluted. Yet it served as a natural complement to the sextet's street-tough rockabilly and jump blues, which seldom took a direct route to their destinations.

With each instrumentalist's eyes fixated on Dylan, who conducted by way of subtle gestures, songs loped and shuffled. Sexton's smooth, economical fills counterbalanced his leader's sustained organ runs and throaty harmonica solos. Loose arrangements encouraged impromptu tempo changes and accommodated Dylan's elastic phrasing. The group's two-step grooves caused all but a handful of drifter ballads and sleepy meditations to swing.

Reacting to the music's roll and tumble, Dylan and Sexton squatted and swayed, as if ducking out of the way of the sharp notes, snapping chords and fierce sentiments. Vicious currents blew through a majority of the material. Violence cast a pall over "Ain't Talkin'," while a re-imagined "Just Like a Woman" threw sarcastic daggers. Better still, the scampering "Highway 61 Revisited" and scathing "Ballad of a Thin Man" evoked sinister desires. Drummer George Recile even launched "Like a Rolling Stone" with a forceful, pistol-shot snare hit that recalled famously confrontational performances of the song in the mid-60s. Not missing the cue, Dylan answered with a nasal sneer true to the 110-minute set's outlaw vibe.