My Bob Review - Dylan.

Ever wanted to hear Bobby sing 'Mr. Bojangles' or 'Big Yellow Taxi'? Nope, neither have I. But apparently Columbia thought people did and brought this album of Self Portrait and New Morning warm ups out seeing as Bob had left them to go to the new Asylum label. It is shit. Honestly. Don't bother. Luckily Dylan was busy recording a proper album which was going to become 'Planet Waves'.

Jon through the table glass (the struggle of a slightly portly man part 2)

Yes part 2. I haven't given up yet. So far I have kept up the 20 minutes running, however after pushing myself a bit too hard as I was brimming with confidence at the start I knackered myself out and didn't really do much over the weekend in the way of fitness.

Oh well, Monday and today I ran again and this time is was a bit easier, so tomorrow I am going to up my game by making the speed faster. I still haven't beating my personal best yet of 2.5K but there is still time.

I still haven't replaced the table top yet either. It is sitting in front of my couch like a broken Mr. Motivator or a transparent Jim Fixx. You can see the picture of the crack.

Onwards and upwards...maybe.

My Bob Review - Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid

Pat Garret...: Kind of a curio this album. There are only a couple of 'proper' songs on it. The rest are just guitar noodles. However the songs are great. Obviously has the classic 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door' but also contains the outlaw ballad Billy 4. The production is good too if you're into that sort of thing. I like it. Probably most people don't.

My Bob Reviews.

I am a huge Bob Dylan fan. However, I don;t think I have listened properly to his Bobness' later albums...o.k.; the born again Christian albums. I set myself the challenge to listen to each album and give a brief review on them and post them on Facebook as profile updates. Some people commented others didn't. Some liked the reviews. Others didn't. I have just finished 'New Morning' but I am going to post all of my previous reviews here and then carry on with this on Facebook and here.

Enjoy.

Or don't.

'Bob Dylan': He looks fat and cheeky on the cover but the songs aren't great. He only has two originals and the ones he chose he hadn't performed live. Oh well, he was only 20 and the first folkie on a major label. Next up 'The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan'.

'Freewheelin': A classic. Everything has already been said about this album. Dylan seems to be pissed off, jokey, surreal, romantic and poetic; often in the same song. He skirts along the "finger pointin'" songs and delivers some of the best kiss-off love songs ever. Brilliant, just brilliant.

'The Times': The front cover says it all. A tad earnest & moribund (yes, moribund). The world is black and white to Bob on this album; and though the title song is a classic most of the songs drift into one another. Not much dynamic. The songs either sound like they are about some quack doctor's cough medicine (Ballad of Hollis Brown) or he is finger pointing. Cheer up.

'Another Side': Bob's cheered up! He starts to move away from the protest songs and begins to write more personal songs and some with a sense of humour. He also begins to show he has alot more to say with the more cryptic 'Chimes of Freedom'...

'Bringing...': Words. Lots and lots of words. And electricity. Bobby plugs in for the first half of the album and manages to piss off all the folkies. The words spew out with all the venom and boredom of a 25 year old drug/symbolic poetry student addict. He then goes acoustic and shows everybody just what can be done with a typewriter and acoustic guitar.

'Highway 61': Napoleon. John The Baptist. Ma Rainy. Bo Diddly. Tom Thumb. Mr Jones. God. Abraham. Romeo. Cinderella. Chrome Horses. Siamese Cats. Skinny Girls. Graveyard Women. Geeks. Mind blowing album. You are bombarded with imagery & every song is epic. Starts with Like A rolling Stone & ends with the TS Eliotesque Desolation Row. Could he top this and make it a hat trick?

Blonde on Blonde: Genius. The closest Dylan ever came to capturing the "thin, wild mercury sound" that existed in his head. Rock's first ever double album with every song a corker.Cryptic lyrics and the cream of Nashville's session musicians. Not only that, he was touring the world to boos, getting married to a playboy bunny and suffering from massive drug addiction all at 26. Then he broke his neck in a motorcycle crash and disappeared into the woods leaving everyone in the world wondering where he was during the psychedelic summer of love; what he thought of it and mostly what would his musical response be?

John Wesley Harding: Dylan's answer to all the psychedelia? Bring out a paired down album as monochromatic as its cover photograph. Gone are the 11 minute long songs stuffed full of opaque imagery and instead write mostly short songs stuffed full with biblical allusions. Of course he threw everybody off again and at the same time started off the country rock revival. Everybody followed suit and ditched the rapidly dating psychedelic gumpf. The Beatles went on to make the more pure White Album and The Stones went on the make the back to basics Beggar's Banquet. A good though for me personally not great album, critics however disagree. The next question would be what would his next album be? He was rapidly becoming more of a recluse and ditching his image as some guiding light for all the hip and groovy people. He was a family man now. What would he do next? Nashville Skyline of course.

Nashville Skyline: Dylan's first ever straight forward album and his shortest too. He has a duet with Johnny Cash to kick things off, then an instrumental and then a few other songs. All short. All straight forward. All country rock. All good. Especially the last song 'Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You. He has a strange country croon voice on this album because he apparently gave up smoking, though it fits perfectly with all these songs. He also gave up poetic imagery (unless of course you count "I once had mountains in the palm of myhands" which I always thought could be him singing about a big pair of tits). A good to great album. He said though he was having trouble trying to write songs by this point or having to "re-learn consciously what I used to be able to do unconsciously". Was the well drying up? We would have to wait until Self Portrait to find out.

Self Portrait: Yes, it's been a while but it is a particularly long double album. The more I listened to it the more questions appeared. Was it really 'Shit'? Was it an attempt by Dylan to destroy the myth surrounding him? Whatever. I think it's long...far too long. It's not shit. It's just not very good either. I am going to have to describe it as "meh".

'New Morning': I needed a break after 'Self Portrait'. Bob picks up his game here with some good little songs. Nothing that will blow your mind, a few you will catch humming to yourself. The cover's strange, with a bearded Bob smiling creepily at you. At least he seems happy here. I guess being a dad mellowed him out a bit. Good. But not great.

Jon through the table glass (the struggle of a slightly portly man part 1)

It is time.

All the hints have been thrown my way. People saying 'You look at bit stouter'; 'Why is your head shaped like a football?''; running out of breath climbing stairs; having shooting pains down my left arm when I eat another stuffed cheesy crust mighty meat pizza; sweating while I eat it; my girlfriend telling me she loves me no matter how big I get. But none of these subtle hints were enough to make me actually try to lose weight.

I have been promising myself that I would get trim. Get in shape. Just generally look a bit leaner. Did I actually do anything to help my cause? No. Even on my last break two people told me I had put on weight and my parents (over a typically bad skype connection) even said I was looking slightly more corpulent.

However I was a master at procrastination. Until Monday of this week. Instead of sitting on a chair to take my shoes off after work I perched on the table in my living room in front of my T.V. to take my shoes off whilst enjoying a brief shot of 80s American Football/High School classic 'Wildcats'. I took my left shoe off. Chuckled slightly at Woody Harrelson as a young lad and at Goldie Hawn's hair. Then as I took my right shoe off my glass table top cracked in half.

I was lucky I didn't get a shard of glass in the arse. But that was it. That was the hint that did it. Time to get fit and this time do it right I told myself and so far I have. For two days.

This blog will chart my keep fit with all the highs, lows and non existent work outs that I will have.

Yesterday I ran for 20 minutes and covered 1.7K. Today I ran for 20 minutes and covered 2.5K. So I am at the moment happy. My legs however are already starting to moan. This is just the beginning. Wish me luck and maybe if I reach my target weight (80Kg; at the moment I am 86Kg; not a gargantuan undertaking for normal people but for one as lazy as me it is) you lucky people can have a shot of my finely chiselled torso. I may even shave my chest. If I fail? Then you will get a photo of my flabby frame covered in crumbs of melted cheese from another devoured stuffed crust.

The choice is mine.

I don't like my toast done on both sides.

It's that time of year. Movember. I am busily growing a 'tache all in support of prostate cancer...not that I support it. In show of solidarity with the sufferers. That sounds better.The scary thing is I am actually quite enjoying the 'tache.

I can fool myself that I am looking like Brad Pitt in Inglorious Basterds...of course the only difference is that I don't wear any 1940's army uniforms. That's the only difference. Honest.

I have also experienced a feeling I have not had to feel since I left the sunny shores of England. Hostility towards old people on public transport. WHY do they clog up the arteries of the morning rush hour? What have they got to do? Nothing. There are differences though. In England they are fat and smell of piss and Everton toffees, over here they look like one of those mummies that has been encased in ice for three thousand years. Except they haven't. They've been sitting in this bus seat.

And queuing. No one queues here. As an Englishman I still can't get used to this. People rush and scrum for the bus. But it's not as if they're going to be able to sit down, as they shove and squeeze to get onto something that looks like the cast off from a set of Indiana Jones (mummies complete of course) they only have the privilege of squeezing up close to one another like sardines.

Oh well, at least everyone's friendly.