We cannot mark the soul
'Cause when's there's too much of nothing
No one has control
Dylan has this concept of "the flood," akin to Hunter S. Thompson's "Edge:" one must sever all connections with artificial identities, reject everything that is taught, believe only what experience has shown you to be true. The danger of course is madness and despair, and Dylan has flirted with both of these (listen to "Dirge" on Planet Waves: "I went out all along Broadway/And I felt that place within/That hollow place where martyrs weep/And angels play with sin"). In this light, all these songs about "nothing" constitute a portrait of Dylan confronting his dread in a number of ways--defying it, cajoling it, and finally, in "Down the Flood" taking the bravest step of all, that is, assuming responsibility for it, because it's
Sugar for sugar
And it's salt for salt
If you go down in the flood
It's gonna be your fault...
He chooses to walk that slender line that separates him from insanity, because on the other side is dishonesty, which, for Dylan "surely would be death."
THERE'S A LOT of humor on this album, a humor closer to the playful spirit of John Wesley Harding than the cruel mockery of "Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat" ("You may think he loves you for your money/But I know what he really loves you for/It's your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat") from Blonde on Blonde. Irreverence ("Gonna save my money/And rip it up"), ribald allusions ("That big dumb blonde with her wheel gorged") and word play ("One must always flush out one's house/If he doesn't expect to be housing flushes") combine to create a feeling of goodwill about the whole album; you get the feeling that Dylan enjoys writing songs, enjoys playing with The Band, that Dylan he is not as paranoid as he used to be--no longer the kid from the Midwest who made it bigger than Guthrie. He's brought it all back home.
If you expect the typically slick rock production--where some big rock superstar lays down one track, then overlays a track so he can accompany himself on the kazoo, throws in a moog synthesizer because the moog is oh so hip--look elsewhere. The music here is all recorded on a home tape recorder with one to three mikes. Dylan dislikes recording any song more than a couple of times, which is why you can sometimes here him laugh in the middle of a take, or talk to a member of The Band. What is lost in neatness is more than made up for in spontaneity and feeling. The difference between Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and The Basement Tapes is the difference between production and creation.