Blueprints and Fragments: Bob Dylan's "Time Out Of Mind" box set reviewed
FRAGMENTS: TIME OUT OF MIND SESSIONS (1996-1997)
BOB DYLAN - BOOTLEG SERIES VOLUME 17 (COLUMBIA)
In order to truly understand how important this album is, I‘ve decided to place it into a personal, historical context. If you are just interested in the contents of this brilliantly curated box set, feel free to skip down.
“Things should start to get interesting right about now …”
I vividly remember pulling into the supermarket parking lot. It was late May, 1997. I was about to get out of the car, when some shocking news was reported on my local rock music station - Bob Dylan, who had just turned 56, had been hospitalized. I’m not sure how much was known at this time, but it certainly didn’t sound good. Oh, Bobby, could this really be the end? Luckily for all concerned, he pulled through.
I worked for a large independent record store chain at the time. While it championed indie music and up-and-coming “baby bands,” as one label rep called them, I was rapidly losing interest in most new music. I liked Oasis, Beck, and some Nirvana, but most of the new bands left me cold. I still focused on the old stuff. However, during breaks, I would skim through the music magazine I didn’t purchase for myself, to keep up with what was going on. I’m pretty sure I was aware that Dylan was working on a new album, his first collection of new songs since 1990’s under the red sky (sic).
The rumor at the time was that Dylan was not happy with how his records were being promoted, so he was kind of giving up, releasing some unfocused albums in the late 1980s, almost daring his label to promote them. Dylan certainly wasn’t going to help. He knew his worth, and he was waiting for his label to get on board. Between 1990 and 1997, this had been the longest Dylan had gone without releasing material containing new songs up to that time, although he released two glorious solo albums of Americana folk and blues.
So the buzz was that as Dylan’s contract in the mid-1990s was about to expire, Sony realized that they could lose one of their most prestigious artists. Again. There was the initial rollout of The Bootleg Series and the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 1991, and the all-star 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration in 1992. There was also a CD-ROM, Highway 61 Interactive. In all of these cases, it featured a look at Dylan's work in the rearview mirror, as if his best was - and would continue to be - behind him.
When MTV Unplugged was all the rage, and Dylan was unhappy with his attempt to create his own (brilliant) version at New York’s Supper Club in late 1993, Sony stepped in, and would release a version of Dylan “Unplugged” - a laughable conceit, considering Dylan “plugging in” at Newport in 1965 irrevocably changed the course of popular culture. You can hear his frustration in this May, 1995, USA Today interview with Edna Gundersen:
“I wasn’t quite sure how to do it and what material to use. I would have liked to do old folk songs with acoustic instruments, but there was a lot of input from other sources as to what would be right for the MTV audience. The record company said, 'You can’t do that, it’s too obscure.' At one time, I would have argued, but there’s no point. OK, so what’s not obscure? They said, Knockin’ on Heaven ‘s Door.”
CONTEXT
Ever since Dylan collaborated with the Grateful Dead in 1987, he obviously used their unconventional work paradigm as his own career model. Between 1980’s Go To Heaven and 1987’s blockbuster album, In The Dark (with their only Top 10 hit, “Touch Of Grey,”) the Deadhead’s fanbase apparently expanded exponentially without the benefit of any new Dead studio albums. The famously studiophobic band begged to give their label, Arista, two double live albums in exchange for their next studio one. Their popularity grew by playing unique shows with different setlists night after night, which made following the Dead on tour a ritual for thousands of Deadheads. (Ticketron even created a separate database so fans could purchase tickets from where they lived, even if it meant sleeping out overnight in the cold rain and snow to get the best <or any> seats.)
Dylan did something similar, trying to shed one more layer of skin, attempting to escape his own shadow, which had haunted him for decades. Dylan was hiding in plain sight, playing wherever he wanted, however he wanted. He was constantly challenging his audience, especially his longtime fan base. It felt as if he was saying, “You think you know me? Well, this is me. Not the ‘me’ you want me to be. It’s who I am now. That other guy is long gone. You never knew him anyway. I’m creating something now. Every night on stage. It may not be pretty, but it’s real, and it’s an antidote to all the fake entertainment out there. You can either get off the train now, or pay for your ticket and don’t complain.”
In 1996, the Wallflowers, led by Dylan’s son Jakob, had a blockbuster hit album, Bringing Down the Horse (produced by T-Bone Burnett), which apparently sold* more than any of his father’s albums (Greatest Hits Vol.1 and 2 excluded) which, of course, gave the usual gang of idiots free range to make fun of the apparent has-been (yet future Nobel Laureate) 60s folk-rocker, because, you know, some people think they are soooo clever.
It’s in this context, by being purposefully off people’s radar, Dylan was slowly rebuilding his career out of the spotlight, brick by brick.
RELEASE DATE
It was announced that Time Out Of Mind, Dylan’s 30th (more or less) studio album, would be released on September 30, 1997, the same day as the Rolling Stones’ Bridges to Babylon, and Patti Smith’s Peace and Noise. It was like being visited by the father, the sons, and the holy spirit.
As much as I liked the albums by Ms Smith and those British bad boys, nothing could hold a candle to Time Out Of Mind. It got mostly rave reviews, although I remember reading an interview with Lucinda Williams, whose local paper gave Time Out Of Mind a less-than-stellar rating. She clipped it out and stuck it onto her refrigerator, a constant reminder that critics don’t always know everything.
I found it baffling that, as I watched the initial sales at our store, the Stones were way out selling the new Dylan album. It was a bit of an eye opener: Branding is everything. The Stones were still riding on their 1960s/70s rebellious reputation. People were buying the album out of habit. It’s not that it’s a bad album, but I don’t think anyone would refer to it as “top tier” Stones.
However, over time, the sales of the Stones’ album slipped, but Time Out Of Mind, like Dylan himself, was slowly and steadily building a following. Of course, the album would go on to win multiple Grammy awards, and it's still highly regarded among fans and critics to this day. I remember being told by the label rep that this was the first time in ages that Dylan’s management called Sony to find out how sales were going, and asked how they could keep that momentum going. It was probably after Dylan won his Grammys that Sony offered retailers a 10% discount on their wholesale cost, a common practice to bring down the retail price, and increase its in-store visibility. There was also a promo-only, four-song live CD EP, including his version of “Love Sick” from the Grammys, which would be given away to anyone buying (I think) two Dylan CDs. In Europe, there were plenty of live songs tacked onto CD singles and Best Of packages. And let’s not forget the exclusive Victoria’s Secret Love Sick CD, featuring the first demixing of the opening track. Dylan famously first allowed the song to be used in a Victoria’s Secret ad, then was invited to spend the day being filmed with women modeling lingerie. He accepted. (For Dylan rarities, check out Alan Fraser’s Searching For A Gem site.)
I was at a Sony business lunch at a Harvard Square, Cambridge, restaurant on January 23, 1998. Bob Dylan and Van Morrison were playing the Fleet Center that evening. This was Mr. Morrison’s old stomping grounds, and he was sitting at a table at the other end of the room, by the window. (You can read about my “encounter” with “Van the Man,” as we were leaving, in my book.) As the lunch was ending, I asked the Sony reps if there was a chance of seeing some new Dylan product anytime soon. According to them, they offered to put out a recent live album in conjunction with the tour, or possibly (I think) something archival. Dylan’s camp turned them down. Who could blame them? Why cut down the sales of the new album? However, much like Dylan’s feeling confident after the success of Blood on the Tracks he could finally release The Basement Tapes, late in 1998, we finally saw the official release of the famous “Judas” concert as part of The Bootleg Series.
Around the time of the release of this album, there was a lot going on in my life, and the next couple of years, in particular, would see many changes and challenges. My soundtracks were Time Out Of Mind, and Patti Smith’s Gone Again.
DANIEL LANOIS’ PRODUCTION
I finally had my own copy of Time Out Of Mind in my greedy little hands. I’m pretty sure that when I got home, I immediately made a cassette copy of my CD so I could listen to it in my car, probably filling out the last 10 minutes with some rare, recent bonus tracks, as is my wont. It’s fascinating to revisit a Dylan album that I haven’t listened to in its entirety for probably decades. I recently found and bought a vinyl LP copy of Down In The Groove, another one I’d not listened to recently, and it was much better than I remembered.
The same goes for Time Out Of Mind, even though I remembered it being an obviously superior release in the Dylan canon. I’m sure I listened to it almost non-stop when it was new, and it was especially rewarding after such a long wait. I’m not sure if I even had a strong opinion about Daniel Lanois’ production on Time Out Of Mind when I first heard it. I think I was just blown away by the album as a whole. While in line to see Dylan’s Boston club date on December 9, 1997, I was standing in line next to some stranger, and we started talking. In my naivety at the time, I mentioned to this guy that apparently people sneak in tape recorders to Dylan shows, and how cool it would be to get a copy of this show. This guy, whose name was Rich, said that he was actually one of those guys, and he would gladly send me a copy, so I gave him my business card. He ended up losing it, and obviously didn’t remember my name, so he dropped off a copy of the show at one of the stores, and said it was for a big Dylan fan. So the clerk sent it to the office, and it ended up on my desk. Even though Rich moved to Florida 20 years ago, he still sends me stuff, old school. Keepin’ it real.
So in the interim, I probably listened to the songs from Time Out Of Mind fairly regularly, but, almost exclusively, it would be the live versions. The Sony four-song live sampler would occasionally get a spin. The studio album felt like a blueprint, something that Dylan himself has said. Pete Townshend is quoted as saying (although I don’t know if this was his idea originally) that one never finishes art, one abandons it. I think it applies to Time Out Of Mind, since at some point, Dylan had to stop recording, and then take the show on the road. However, in this case, Dylan used these recordings as a starting off point. He didn't abandoned that theorum at the time, or with anything else he has played live since. As disc four, and part of disc five, of Fragments proves, these songs grow and evolve and mutate into something only hinted at in their hermetically sealed studio incarnations.
So Fragments has got me to thinkin’, what do I actually think about production, not just here, but in general? I don’t think I have any hard and fast rules about it. Generally speaking, I don’t like a lot of production. Or do I? I love everything George Martin did with the Beatles. However, I tend to equate “production” with soullessness. How much time have I spent listening to bootlegs and other primitive recordings? But it doesn’t mean I don’t like when things are well produced, it’s just I don’t like to think that I’m listening to something that’s bringing attention to it. The 80s generally sucked due to the gated reverb added to every drum track. If it’s an artistic statement (I’m talking to you, Trans by Neil Young,) then I’m for it. When it is only there to cover up the lack of soul or art or creativity, then I’m out of there.
So where does this leave Lanois’ production on Time Out Of Mind? The in-studio fights between Dylan and Lanois are legendary, but if not for that difficult birth, this album would have turned out much differently, if it was to come out at all. It’s been a discussion among Dylan fans for a quarter of a century. Listening now, it’s not so much Lanois’ production, but the overall reserved studio vibe that sticks out. As I said, I hadn’t listened to the actual album in ages. I don’t mind it, and I don't think it overshadows the music. It’s just that it is kind of unnecessary. Lanois’ production is intended to echo the mystery of the music and lyrics, adding to the sonic landscape. However, Dylan’s lyrics, phrasing, and arrangements expertly take care of that. The album’s spooky vibes are already in the grooves. It needs no added commentary from interlopers. As Dylan wrote in The Philosophy of Modern Song, people are “spoon fed” everything these days. (More on the original album later.)
After the release of this album, aside from collaborating with Al Schmitt or T-Bone Burnett on specific projects, Dylan, under the name of Jack Frost, would always produce himself when it came to presenting songs to the public.
GETTING READY
A few weeks (?) before the release of Time Out Of Mind, I received a promo CD. On the top of the front cover, it read, These are the FIRST FOUR TRACKS from BOB DYLAN’S new album “TIME OUT OF MIND.” I absorbed it and listened to it intently, over and over again. I’d never heard anything like it. Things were getting interesting.
Around the same time, I received a one-track promo CD of Billy Joel covering “To (sic) Make You Feel My Love.” Since Joel was no longer writing pop songs, he needed to cover other people’s material to be included on volume three of his newest Greatest Hits collection. He hilariously relates the experience in the clip below:
Billy Joel: To Make You Feel My Love Live on David Letterman 1997 ... plus Dylan story
This may have been the first cover version of this song, but it certainly wasn’t the last. In 1998, the soundtrack for Hope Floats, under the production of Don Was, featured exclusive music from the Rolling Stones, Sheryl Crow, Gillian Welch, Lyle Lovett, among others. It also included two cover versions of “To (sic) Make You Feel My Love,” one each by the (soon to be) husband and wife team of Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood. Brooks’ version went on to spend one week on top of the country charts, and was nominated for two Grammys.
Of course these days, most people erroneously think of this as an Adele song, and it’s been covered zillions of times on shows like American Idol, and all over You Tube. I wouldn't be surprised if the success of this song was, at least in part, one of the reasons for the existence of this box set.
FRAGMENTS PREPARATION
It’s an honor to be able to preview any Dylan release in advance. It is a responsibility I don’t take lightly. In order to place these recordings in context, my phone contains a multitude of playlists for easy research access in a completely non-obsessive way. There was the entire box set in order, and one for each individual CD. Then there were CDs 2 & 3 in chronological order, the entire 60 songs in chronological order, everything in alphabetical order, the 1997 and 2022 mixes of Time Out Of Mind collated for an A/B comparison, and, just for fun, a 6th CD "bonus" playlist of material officially released, mostly in Europe on CD singles and compilations. See, not at all obsessive. Of course I didn’t have time to listen to all of these playlists all the way through, but it made accessing and comparing/contrasting the material much easier.
TIME OUT OF MIND - 1997 vs 2022 (CD1)
Time Out Of Mind was a game changer. While artists continuing to sing about longing for the days of their youth was not unheard of, from Charles Aznavour’s “Yesterday When I Was Young” and Frank Sinatra’s “It Was A Very Good Year,” to young whippersnappers' like Eric Burdon, Ray Davies, and John Lennon composing hit songs about when they were kids, nostalgic for a time when they were really young, Dylan took things to a newer, deeper, and darker level with these new compositions.
It appears to me that every time since the 1960s, or maybe the 70s, when Dylan makes a breakthrough in his songwriting, it gets less and less attention. In a way, it’s become somewhat expected. Dylan completely transforms and transcends gospel music, for example, yet it took years for (some) people to realize what he had accomplished.
I see a direct connection from 1978’s Street- Legal to Time Out Of Mind to 2020’s Rough and Rowdy Ways. Each was a new beginning, a new way of writing, the beginning of a new cycle, the start of a new chapter. With 1975/6’s Rolling Thunder Revue, Dylan had come full circle, from folkie to rocker, and back to the land of hootenannies. Street-Legal was a dense, intense, uncensored meditation on what was going on in his life, a rejection (in a way) of his past, also completely rearranging his catalog on stage to the point of not only being almost unrecognizable, but almost perverse in its new, mainstream guise.
Like Rough and Rowdy Ways, Time Out Of Mind arrived after a long drought in the songwriting department, at least when it came to releasing new product. Dylan had been mining the music of the old, weird, America on his early 1990s albums, when he was being feted at Madison Square Garden for his 30 years as a songwriter and recording artist. By revisiting these songs, it may have planted the seeds for the ominous tone of Time Out Of Mind.
Of course, Dylan’s hospitalization for histoplasmosis added to the feeling of mortality and dread, even though the album was already completed by that point. After all, Dylan was an “ancient” 56 years old at the time. (After you listen to your copy of Fragments, for added context, you may want to check out the following podcasts: DYLAN.FM with Graley Herren re: Murder Ballads and POD DYLAN with Rob Kelly interviewing Matt Steichen about “Dreamin’ of You”.) However, while the album certainly addresses aging, it covers all kinds of loss, from youth to lovers to control, with the occasional hint of a ghostly presence. Of course, it’s to Dylan’s credit that he made it all seem so believable, even though it’s more than probable that these songs are not autobiographical. It kind of makes a mockery of lots of rock and roll posers, with their over-the-top posturing, devoid of any subtlety or nuance.
On Street-Legal, Time Out Of Mind, and Rough and Rowdy Ways, Dylan went extra deep. As he said in his acceptance speech for his 2000 song, “Things Have Changed,” when it won the Academy Award for Best Original Song, it “doesn’t pussyfoot around nor turn a blind eye to human nature.” The same could be said for the songs on Time Out Of Mind, and pretty much every album of new material he’s done since.
Listening to it anew, the album had not only aged well, but aside for one line, it's flawless. The album starts with “Love Sick,” and it perfectly sets the tone. It rips the lid off of Hank Williams’ “Lovesick Blues,'' takes it on a stroll down Lonely Avenue, and explores the wasteland of his mind. I remember when the album came out, my friend Ed (a.k.a. Uncle Gabbadoo), a co-worker, commented that he didn’t like the clumsy line, “I wanna take to the road and plunder.” Dylan must have agreed, as it was soon replaced in concert with, “Sometimes I feel like I’m being plowed under.”
The epic closer, “Highlands,” to me, had the same bizarro world humor of The Basement Tapes, again something that took a while to which I had to acclimate myself with ages ago. It’s more surreal and dreamlike than laugh-out-loud funny, but after all these years, it sounds more humorous than ever. And when he sings about turning up the volume when listening to Neil Young, is it because he's ready to party, or is he hard of hearing?
Online I’ve read how people are particularly drawn to ballads like “Standing In The Doorway” and “Not Dark Yet,” and yes, the poetry is beautiful. But to me, the strength of the album is the songs that explore the darkened psychic landscape in which only Dylan could tread. “Love Sick,””Million Miles,” “‘Til I Fell In Love With You,” “Can’t Wait,” and especially “Cold Irons Bound.” Is he heading for Cold Irons? Is he in handcuffs? What horrible crime did he commit in the song, or just about every other song? The creepy factor hangs over the entire proceedings, and it’s a credit to Dylan’s songs, delivery, and band that you believe every word he sings. Despite his perfect poetic imagery, I don’t get the feeling he might actually be in the doorway crying, but you can imagine him watching lovers in the meadow and silhouettes in the window.
There are also shadows and ghosts hiding and hovering over the proceedings, especially on “Tryin’ To Get To Heaven,” often interpreted as a tribute to the Grateful Dead’s Jerry Garcia, who died in 1995, and “Standing in the Doorway,” with a possible reference to Buddy Holly, whose presence Dylan says he felt throughout the sessions.
Then there’s the possible influence of movie dialogues and images. In “Standing In The Doorway,” Dylan paraphrases Jack Nicholson’s most famous line in Prizzi’s Honor (“I don’t know if I saw you, if I would kiss you or kill you”), and Indiana Jones, who would show up again in “I Contain Multitudes” (“And even if the flesh falls off of my face.”)
Since almost every CD from the last century could use a sonic reevaluation, the 2022 remix of the album is more impressive for its clarity than its rewrite of history, from what I can tell from my phone or computer. The vocals and instrumentation are front and center, excavated from the Lanois lagoon.The effects may have been dialed down, but the overall vibe is the same.
OUTTAKES AND ALTERNATES (Discs Two and Three) and TELL TALE SIGNS (Most of Disc Five, previously released)
Here we have two more alternative studio versions of Time Out Of Mind, sort of.
As I’m writing this, I’m listening to my “Fragments Chronological” playlist. I understand why the box set was sequenced the way it was. It certainly makes sense, logically - the original album, two CDs of studio outtakes (mostly) sequenced with separated tracks to avoid duplicates on each disc, a live CD, and the “bonus” disc of previously released contemporaneous material. Apparently there are casual fans that can just groove to the CDs as they are presented. However, for me at least, it makes more sense to collate the material, so anyone can attempt to follow and (possibly) understand Dylan’s creative process. (Not obsessed.)
I don’t want to give away too many spoilers, because I’d like for you to feel the same sense of wonder I felt hearing these treasures for the first time. But I’ll try to give an overview, with only a minimum of specifics.
First of all, every track has something to offer. For the finished product, Dylan picked the best takes, and for the most part, the best songs - or at least the ones that fit the “concept.” It reminds me of when I saw Dylan & The Dead in Foxboro, the first night of that tour. You could feel Dylan breaking out of the straightjacket he tailored for himself, or, more accurately, the corner he painted himself in. The same feeling is present at these sessions. Of course, this material is now being experienced knowing the outcome, but the initial sessions at Teatro have a tentative quality, as if he’s taking these songs for a test drive, getting them “all greased up,” as Lucinda Williams once said about her own material. It starts with a fragile take on “The Water Is Wide,” the only cover included here, picking up where World Gone Wrong left off. It’s interesting that most of the early material, either the entire songs, or the hardly recognizable primitive versions either lyrically or musically, were abandoned. This would include “Red River Shore,” “Mississippi” (which would soon be donated to Sheryl Crow, and later revisited on “Love and Theft”), “Dreamin’ of You,” “Marchin’ To The City,” and early versions of “Can’t Wait” and “‘Til I Fell In Love With You.”
Sheryl Crow "Mississippi" ... plus Dylan story
Listening to the earliest takes, with 20/20 hindsight, you can feel Dylan working his way through these songs, giving them life, like the mad scientist in “My Own Version Of You.” Again, even though he would improve as time marched on, any other songwriter would kill for the lines he would eventually discard. Things got interesting once the project moved to Criteria Studios in Miami, where the Bee Gees’ career was similarly reborn. There are completely excised verses in songs like “Cold Iron Bounds,” “Not Dark Yet,” “Dirt Road Blues,” and “Love Sick.” It’s almost tangible that as he’s thinking of new and better ways to get his ideas in real time, as he’s going along. Some of the rejected lines are haunting, some somewhat pedestrian, some superfluous, some cliche, some Dylan-lite. Some takes might only have been dismissed because of a hesitant or flubbled vocal line. But it’s a privilege to be able to peek behind the creative curtain to show how the magician prepares his tricks.
While on some level, Dylan’s confidence may not have been at its peak during this period, he is certainly fearless as he tries whatever he has to offer on any given day, perfectly willing to create and edit on the spot. One of the big revelations is that a signature line in “Highlands” was not included in the early take here. A recurring theme is that Dylan’s muse would arrive in the studio, and he would channel it, and then access it.
Then there are different arrangements and tempos attempted back-to-back (more or less) on “Mississippi,” “Standing In The Doorway,” “‘Til I Fell in Love With You,” and others, Dylan and his band trying to find that groove. You can see why Dylan put “Mississippi” on the shelf, and produced it his way on the next album, without Lanois’ input/interference. It’s also fascinating to listen to Dylan (metaphorically) cut and paste lines and verses, and place them elsewhere in the songs, or sometimes they migrate to completely different compositions altogether.
The most important benefit of having access to this material is that it allows us to hear this material with new ears, the brilliance that may have dulled in our senses due to our overfamiliarity with something that once blew our minds. For instance, in “Mississippi,” I never noticed the reference to “offering their hand” in the middle of the song was revisited at the end. (See? Not obsessed.)
LIVE (1998-2001) (Disc Four) plus Two Live Tracks from Tell Tale Signs (Disc Five)
Years ago, before we were blessed with all of these riches, we might feel cheated that there weren’t more outtakes included in this box set. However, there's 6.25 hours of music included here, and I’m sure we can expect more unreleased stuff within the next 12 months. (Street-Finally-Legal, fingers crossed?) What we have here is a monument to a masterpiece. If you want to hear every take, then you can take a trip to the Bob Dylan Center in Tulsa.
Disc four is a live version of Time Out Of Mind, with different concert performances than have been released elsewhere (except for a recycled “Make You Feel Me Love.”) In some ways, this is the definitive version of that album. The final studio version of the album was a blueprint. These songs really came to life on the stage.
In concert, “Love Sick” has the perfect amount of tension, and nobody knows how to pause, or stretch out phrases, like Dylan. The live versions of “Cold Irons Bound” totally blow away the studio one- here it’s a completely different animal. “Dirt Road Blues” was never performed live, so there are two wildly different live versions of “Can’t Wait,” one similar to the album version in February, 1999, and a slower take in May 2000. For good measure, CD4 includes a version of “Mississippi” performed in the nation’s capital, a little over two months after the 9/11 attacks.
What I don’t understand, however, is the track list order on disc five. I get the placing all the same titles together, but why is “Mississippi” “Version 1,” followed by #3, then #2?
THE 10 LP VERSION
I ordered it, but of course, it has not yet arrived. It will be the second 10 LP set I’ve ever purchased. The first was Ten Of Swords back in the dark ages. Looking forward to digging into it in all its vinyl glory. It will be great to have easy access to all of these 60 tracks.
Fragments examines the shattered sounds inside Bob Dylan’s mind. When listening to the 25th anniversary expanded edition of Time Out Of Mind, you’re revisiting a work about abandoned art and abandoned love, of music that not only stands the test of time, but transcends it. Accidently, like a martyr. So welcome back to the years of 1996, ‘97, and beyond. The time has come.
* At least according to one source
Bob Dylan
Fragments
Time Out of Mind Sessions (1996-1997)
The Bootleg Series, Vol. 17
5CD: amazon.com - .co.uk - .de
2CD: amazon.com - .co.uk - .de
4 LP: amazon.com - .co.uk - .de
Apple Music
10 LP from bobdylan.com
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