Of the remaining four songs, two are insignificant. "Deadman, Deadman" is a rather dull reggea, while "Trouble" is a loud blues that leaves the listener indifferent.

"In the Summertime", though, is great. A slow country love song, it features the Dylan of yesterday equipped with accoustic guitar and harmonica. This is the type of track liable to wear out the repeat mechanism on you turntable.

THE RECORD concludes with one of Dylan's finest efforts in recent memory. "Every Grain of Sand" puts fate on a pedestal, and, while not worshipping it, at the very least affirms its primacy in the governance of our lives. Some will take this as an excuse for the singer's recent course. Yet how can we not respect the passion and conviction with which this haunting ballad is delivered:

In the time of my confession

In the hour of my deepest need

When the pool of tears beneath my feet

Flood every newborne seed

There's a dying voice within me

Reaching out somewhere

Toiling in the danger

And in the morals of despair

Don't have the inclination To look back on any mistakes

...In the fury of the moment

I can see the maste's hand

In every leaf that trembles

In every grain of sand

And so ends "Shot of Love", leaving us with many more questions. Dylan will always be ripe for attack. We can question his simplicity (for example, is the logical conclusion of "Property of Jesus" an approval of religious fanaticism?). We can criticize his beliefs. But we cannot say he lacks guts. Bob Dylan is no man's lackey. He will always do and sing what he believes. The times they are a changin', but not Dylan. He still has integrity.