On one hand, it requires a good deal of pluck to try covering a song by Bob Dylan, the veritable reigning Pope of Folk-Rock-Contemporary Singer-Songwriters.
On the other, there is the matter of his nasal twang not being everyone’s cup of song-listening tea.
…they bring all that sensibility to bear zeroing in on an aspect of ‘It Ain’t Me, Babe’ that Dylan, tangled up in the blues and recriminations of his failing relationship, couldn’t bring himself to find.
Couple that with the sheer magnitude of Dylan’s musical catalog, chock-full of provocative commentary and soulful balladry on the great social, political and cultural themes of the past half-century, and it would be almost indictable for musicians not to explore and honor his canon by sidling up to one or one hundred of his hits.
For the record, my pal Claude of Anthropic tells me more than 1,500 covers of nearly 300 different Dylan songs float around the musical galaxy, with “Blowin’ in the Wind” topping them all with at least 300 covers and counting.
A little bit down that list at some few dozen is the subject of this latest installment of “Brilliant Cover Songs.”
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Most analyses of “It Ain’t Me, Babe” cite it as inspired (though that’s an awkward verb, given the circumstance) by Dylan’s break with early girlfriend Suze Rotolo, who had moved out of the Greenwich Village apartment they shared in late 1962 to pursue art studies in Italy. Dylan went looking for her by that next January, but after additional fits and starts, the relationship withered over the course of that year, Rotolo intent on forging her own identity apart from the complications of Dylan’s increasing fame, and Dylan working through the break by writing songs about it.
Rotolo was the daughter of Communist Party members and a lifelong social activist and artist before her death from lung cancer at age 67 in 2011. Hers was the head on Dylan’s shoulder in the famous album cover for “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan,” the couple walking toward us, their collars turned up against the cold on a Greenwich Village street, an iconic VW microbus prominent behind them.
More importantly, she had served as a muse for the growing political bent of his songs from that early fertile period, Dylan later telling biographer Clinton Heylin, “Suze was into this equality-freedom thing long before I was. I checked out the songs with her.”
As you might guess if you know the lyrics, “It Ain’t Me, Babe,” from his 1964 album, “Another Side of Bob Dylan,” was not one that he had “checked out with her.” It is one of several Dylan songs that addressed the couple’s breakup, including “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” and “Boots of Spanish Leather,” the latter the subject of previous exploration in this space nearly a decade ago.
In “It Ain’t Me, Babe,” Dylan sounds a wail that strikes this listener as one part simple mourning for a lost relationship but the much greater part a resentment-leading-to-accusation that his lover is simply asking too much of him. In his earlier “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” he frames the issue thusly: “I give her my heart but she wanted my soul,” to which an emotionally intelligent person might respond, “Isn’t that what every lover ultimately wants?”
Be that as it may, in “It Ain’t Me, Babe,” he continues pointing an emotionally resigned finger at what he considers his lover’s unreasonable demands:
You say you’re lookin’ for someone
Who’ll pick you up each time you fall
To gather flowers constantly
An’ to come each time you call
At which time his chorus of negation kicks in, because “It ain’t me, babe, No, no, no…”
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And here is where we get to our cover of this classic, which imbues the song with a seemingly subtle but ultimately decisive change in the emotional temperature of that “No, no, no.”
River Whyless is an Asheville, North Carolina-based foursome whose music spans the folk-indie-rock spectrum, with strains of bluegrass, world music, and various mashups therefrom. (For the record, I’ve seen the band live several times, knowing guitarist-vocalist Daniel Shearin though a family connection, but as you’ll hear below, the music stands very much on its own, and I offer it as such.)
Exquisitely layered and intricate lyrics, instrumentation and harmonies make for an intelligent musical architecture throughout the band’s oeuvre, and they bring all that sensibility to bear zeroing in on an aspect of “It Ain’t Me, Babe” that Dylan, tangled up in the blues and recriminations of his failing relationship, couldn’t bring himself to find.
The group does so with only the sparest instrumental accompaniment. Drummer Alex McWalters sits it out altogether with a percussion-less arrangement, while violinist Halli Anderson and bass guitarist Shearin bring only their voices to blend in lilting three-part harmony with Ryan O’Keefe, who carries what there is of the instrumental load by picking delicately at his guitar, in one stretch backing off altogether as the trio goes all a cappella.
It’s a bold move that nevertheless feels perfect in that “Of course!” sort of way, talented artists mining a new vein in the song by grasping the heartbreak and mourning that is not limited to the one hearing the news.
Let’s give it a listen and look here.
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River Whyless settles into a slot that, in practice if not purpose, challenges Dylan to loosen his grip on the solipsism of his resentment while swinging very widely indeed around the two best-selling covers of the song, first by the Johnny Cash-June Carter duo in late 1964, followed by The Turtles a few months later. I’ll say a bit more about those versions below, but let’s stay with River Whyless’s treatment for the moment.
In a reduced setting with little instrumentation, they make the song much more about heart than stomach, no churn of anger or frustration, no tap-tapping of feet or pounding of drums. Most all the emotion is concentrated at the microphone, where the heart’s “No no no” is much more a plea for understanding of the singer’s sincerity and the sharing of grief than it is reproach for the lover’s shortcomings.
It exchanges an implied “we” of mutual responsibility for the lyrical repetition of “you,” by which Dylan clearly implies “your fault.” (“You need…you want…you’re lookin.'”)
And the group does so largely with their voices, plaintive and pure, accessorized mostly with a solemnity of facial expression and even posture. Shearin’s hands folded behind him, open and vulnerable, serves as the most prominent sign of the plea referred to above.
The band once described the essential sorrow and self-humbling of the song as having “always served as a kind of consolation in our struggle to be the lovers, children and companions we aspire, but sometimes fail to be.”
How’s that for the maturity of the 20-somethings they were at the time?
All of this is in stark contrast to the covers mentioned above, the fast-paced, almost jaunty version by The Turtles surpassed only by the even faster, utterly confounding rollick of Cash-Carter, the photo of which immediately begat the question for me: “Why on earth is this woman grinning?”
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That above is a screenshot from the cover you’ll hear below, but the specter of Carter having a fine old time as she swaps “No, no, no’s” with Cash brings to mind a two-part series in this space discussing dramatic mismatches between what several songs were about lyrically and how they were interpreted in performance. (“When the Song Sung Isn’t What the Song Said.“)
About 50 seconds into this travesty that peaked at #4 on the “Billboard Country Singles” chart and #58 on the “Billboard Hot 100,” Carter exhibits the grin you see above, with Cash returning it. The emphasis on the title line invites the guitars and drums into something suggesting a Breakup Celebration Party, everyone primed and ready to start guzzling champagne straight from the bottle before the happy couple beats a hasty path in opposite directions out of this relationship.
It’s a mismatch of lyrics and performance that brings into even higher relief just what River Whyless accomplished by seeing into the essence of this beautiful, heart-rending ballad, and then finding their way, with the kind of hushed sensitivity begotten only by deep and sustained contemplation, to its truest, most soulful expression.
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Just in case all of that inspires a deeper, 15-minute dive…(And while you’re there, might you feel moved to make a contribution to NPR’s drive to continue the invaluable cultural resource that is the Tiny Desk Concerts?)
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The first paragraphs of the previous songs in this series can be seen here, most recent first…
The “Brilliant Songs” series from which this series of covers was born can be seen here in the same most recent first format (currently up to 60 songs).
See and hit the Follow button at https://www.facebook.com/andrew.hidas/ for regular 1-minute or less dispatches from the world’s great thinkers, artists and musers, accompanied always by lovely photography.
Deep appreciation to the photographers! Unless otherwise stated, some rights reserved under Creative Commons licensing.
Elizabeth Haslam, whose photos (except for library books) grace the rotating banner top of homepage. https://www.flickr.com/photos/lizhaslam/
Library books by Larry Rose, Redlands, California, all rights reserved, contact: larry@rosefoto.com
Abstract couple by Camila Cordeiro, Brazil https://unsplash.com/@camilacordeiro
Ships passing in the night by Buddy AN, Osaka, Japan https://unsplash.com/@stbuddyp
Where has this group been all my life? Better late than never, I guess. I will look forward to digging into their work.
Maybe next, an analysis of Sonny & Cher’s I Got You Babe? (Apparently inspired by Dylan’s use of the word “Babe.”)
Excellent cover and I appreciated your history behind the creation of the song. I’ve enjoyed River Whyless since learning about them, I believe from you and Mary. Hoping that someday our schedules will align so that we can see them in person.
A comment about Johnny Cash: His deep, smooth voice complements the voices of those lucky enough to share a stage or recording studio with him. His “Girl from the North Country” remains my favorite cut on Dylan’s Nashville Skyline. River Whyless’s interpretation of “It Ain’t Me, Babe” gives the breakup line, “I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul”, a tenderness lacking in Dylan’s harsher tone. Thanks for another interpretation of a great song.
Wonderful rendering of Dylan’s song, would love to see River Whyless in person but the Tiny Desk concert was pretty darn good – here is a recent show from their hometown of Asheville NC: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lupQp9Tu6g
I enjoyed the Johnny & June Cash version of the song from a musical point of view (Johnny’s voice is rich and full-throated!), but did not fit with the Dylan song – unlike River Whyless with their musically stripped down approach which for me treated the song like poem and it worked beautifully.
Jonathan, thanks for reading and happy listening—a treasure trove awaits you!
Robby, that historical tidbit is new to me, but I’m glad to learn it and please keep them coming! And I know you’re kidding here, but just to confirm: No, I think you’ll wait a good long while before I delve into any song in which one of the feature lines includes “I got you to hold my hand…”
Michael: They tour pretty sparingly, but next time they’re anywhere close, I’ll let you know. Thanks for checking in here.
Robert: Couldn’t agree more about the timbre & depth of Johnny Cash’s voice, and within his first notes of this cover, I found myself thinking: “Whoa!” (In a good way.) But then all those big grins started breaking out between him and June in what looked more like a lovey lovey duet than a breakup song, and my thought turned to: “How could they miss the actual intent and emotion of this song so badly?” Guess we’ll never know, both of them gone to the eternal hereafter quite some time ago.
Kevin: So pleased you shared that link; we just saw the show last nite and lapped it right up. Was going to come back here to add a note about it but you did it for me, thanks! And agree with you fully about the difference in the two covers. It’s fascinating, I think, how different artists approach the same song, particularly when some are so clearly and widely off the mark.