Whichever money-grubbing, atonal record executive had the idea of Bob Dylan (real name Robert Zimmerman) covering Christmas standards should be stoned in public. With Christmas in the Heart, Dylan has achieved the near-impossible: releasing an album devoid of any true sentiment, sure to alienate even his most ardent supporters.
Cover albums have long been the refuge of artists who either (a) have run out of ideas or (b) want to feature their best asset, like their voice, in lieu of songwriting ability. Hopefully, Bob isn’t suffering from the first problem, and, if someone else convinced him that his vocal talent was his preeminent quality, then maybe he’s going senile.
Regardless, Dylan is the lyrical genius of the last several generations, and it would take hundreds of tasteless albums like Christmas in the Heart to tarnish his musical legacy. That said, he’s not doing himself any favors with this overly saccharine B-list Hallmark gift card of a record.
“Hark the Herald Angels Sing” features Dylan’s haggard vocals unadorned; they sound like a bloodhound with a pack-a-day smoking habit howling at the moon, only worse. Thankfully, few tracks last more than three minutes. If they ran any longer, his “singing” would probably induce aneurysms. The contrast between Dylan’s vocals and the mellifluous backing singers highlights his deficiencies as a crooner. His vocals would best be de-emphasized by, counterintuitively, letting them stand alone.
Moreover, the surrounding instrumentals have little more emotion than elevator-quality Muzak; the producers were clearly relying on Dylan himself to be the draw. As a result, the album has no legs to stand on.
These songs have been played and sung better. We’re left with the awkward image of Dylan, ever the non-conformist, going gently into the good night with his most commercial release yet.
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