Fallen Angels (2016)
1. Young at Heart
2. Maybe You'll Be There
3. Polka Dots and Moonbeams
4. All the Way
5. Skylark
6. Nevertheless
7. All or Nothing at All
8. On a Little Street in Singapore
9. It Had to Be You
10.Melancholy Mood
11.That Old Black Magic
12.Come Rain or Come Shine
With Fallen Angels, Bob Dylan continues his late-career foray into the American songbook—a territory previously explored on the preceding year’s Shadows in the Night. Superficially, this album feels very much like a continuation, even a companion piece. Indeed, the sonic similarities are such that one suspects both were recorded during the same set of sessions. What distinguishes Fallen Angels from its predecessor, however, is a subtle but important shift in tone: there is more rhythmic variation, a greater sense of lightness, and—on occasion—a playful bounce absent from the hushed melancholy of Shadows.
That said, the approach remains consistent. Dylan eschews the lavish arrangements typically associated with these standards in favour of sparse, minimalist accompaniment. His long-time touring band, disciplined and unobtrusive, allows the songs to breathe. The steel guitar, gently brushed drums, and occasional flourishes of brass are employed with restraint. At the center of it all is Dylan’s unmistakable voice—aged, weary, but rendered with surprising tenderness.
It must be acknowledged, however, that this material remains an acquired taste, and Dylan an unconventional interpreter of it. Though his vocal limitations are well documented, it is precisely these imperfections that lend the recordings a strange gravitas. Dylan does not croon so much as confide, and the result is a kind of emotional vulnerability not easily found in contemporary recordings of this repertoire.
Still, one must question how far this artistic detour can—or should—extend. While Fallen Angels surpasses its predecessor in variety and pacing, it is ultimately a record of modest ambition, appealing primarily to those already predisposed to this particular sonic aesthetic. That Dylan has now devoted two albums (both under forty minutes in length) to this venture suggests a deeper commitment than mere whimsy, but also risks diminishing returns. One cannot help but wonder what further territory remains for him to explore—or reclaim.
In sum, Fallen Angels is a respectful, well-executed homage to the classic American ballad tradition. It neither redefines Dylan’s legacy nor compromises it. Rather, it occupies a curious niche: a reflective, twilight meditation from an artist who has long made a habit of confounding expectations. Admirable in craft, touching in moments, but unlikely to command the repeated attention of even his most ardent followers.
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