The Bootleg Series, Vols. 1-3 (Rare & Unreleased) 1961-1991 (1991)
Disc One
1. Hard Times in New York
2. He Was a Friend of Mine
3. Man on the Street
4. No More Auction Block
5. House Carpenter
6. Talkin' Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre
Blues
7. Let Me Die in My Footsteps
8. Ramblin' Gamblin' Willie
9. Talkin' Have Negleliah Blues
10.Quit Your Lowdown Ways
11.Worried Blues
12.Kingsport Town
13.Walkin' Down the Line
14.Walls of Red Ring
15.Paths of Victory
16.Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues
17.Who Killed Davey Moore?
18.Only a Hobo
19.Moonshiner
20.When the Ship Comes In
21.The Times They Are A-Changin'
22.Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie
Disc Two
1. Seven Curses
2. Eternal Cirlcle
3. Suze (The Cough Song)
4. Mama You Been on My Mind
5. Farewell Angelina
6. Subterranean Homesick Blues
7. If You Gotta Go, Go Now
8. Sitting on a Barbed Wire Fence
9. Like a Rolling Stone
10.It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry
11.I'll Keep it With Mine
12.She's Your Lover Now
13.I'll Shall Be Released
14.Santa-Fe
15.If Not For You
16.Wallflower
17.Nobody 'Cept You
18.Tangled Up in Blue
19.Call Letter Blues
20.Idiot Wind
Disc Three
1. If You See Her, Say Hello
2. Golden Loom
3. Catfish
4. Seven Days
5. Ye Shall Be Changed
6. Every Grain of Sand
7. You Changed My Life
8. Need a Woman
9. Angelina
10.Someone's Got a Hold On My Heart
11.Tell Me
12.Lord Protect My Child
13.Foot of Pride
14.Blind Willie McTell
15.When the Night Comes Falling From the Sky
16.Series of Dreams
It is fitting—perhaps inevitable—that Bob Dylan, a figure so entwined with the myth and mystique of modern songwriting, should have his legacy bound up with the phenomenon of bootlegging. Unlike mere curiosities or substandard leaks, Dylan’s unreleased work became a lore of its own: whispered about, traded obsessively, and in many cases, revered as fervently as the officially sanctioned canon. It is this parallel discography—long hidden in acetate, reel, and rumor—that finally received its due with The Bootleg Series Volumes 1–3.
Spanning three discs and three decades, the collection is less an anthology than a chronicle, tracing Dylan’s evolution from coffeehouse folk prophet to electric iconoclast, gospel preacher, and elusive elder statesman. It begins in austere simplicity—Dylan the solo troubadour, spinning stark folk tunes with nothing more than a guitar, harmonica, and that voice, already sandpapered with knowing. These early tracks carry all the raw immediacy of his debut and sophomore efforts, so much so that the line between demo and master becomes almost irrelevant.
Indeed, what strikes the listener across the 58 tracks is not their unfinished quality, but their surprising completeness. Though the occasional false start or offbeat inclusion (notably the whimsical Suze (The Cough Song) or the spoken-word elegy Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie) reminds us of the archival nature of the project, the overwhelming impression is of material too good to have been shelved. One wonders not why these tracks remained unreleased, but how.
The second volume charts the crucible of Dylan’s mid-60s metamorphosis—when the acoustic messiah plugged in and split his audience. Here we find stripped-down iterations of epochal tracks like Subterranean Homesick Blues, heard anew, leaner but no less ferocious. From the post-folk turbulence of Highway 61 Revisited to the spiritual and sonic complexity of the Blood on the Tracks era, the selections are illuminating. These are not castoffs; they are companions to the official narrative, and in some cases, they rival the celebrated originals in vigor and soul.
Disc three ventures into murkier waters—Dylan’s post-Christian, post-modern phase, where the songs grow more opaque, the production more layered, and the public interest, for a time, more tepid. Yet this is perhaps the most revelatory section of the set. The unreleased Infidels-era tracks are particularly striking, capturing Dylan in lyrical and melodic form arguably superior to what was selected for the album’s final cut. Even in moments where the material thins—mirroring Dylan’s own uncertain steps during these years—there is insight, beauty, and a kind of quiet urgency.
The strength of The Bootleg Series Volumes 1–3 lies not in novelty but in affirmation. These are not skeletons pulled from the closet, but masterpieces withheld. From The Times They Are A-Changin’ to Tangled Up in Blue to Every Grain of Sand, the alternate takes and demos hold up with startling vitality—less alternate histories than parallel truths.
The liner notes rightly observe that this set was but a fraction of the vault, and in time, further volumes would emerge—some revelatory, others more suited to the completist than the casual fan. But this first release remains the gold standard: an essential document that redefined what a box set could be, and a reminder that even Dylan’s cutting-room floor is paved with brilliance.
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