Bob Dylan – Blood On The Tracks - 1975 Mobile Fidelity Analog Audiophile Folk Rock - Numbered - Sealed 180 Grm LP
Bob Dylan – Blood On The Tracks
Label: Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab – MFSL 1-381, Columbia – 88697947901
Series: Original Master Recording, GAIN 2™ Ultra Analog LP 180g Series
Format: Vinyl, LP, Album, Limited Edition, Numbered, Reissue, Remastered, Stereo, 180 Gram, Gatefold
Remastered from original Columbia tapes.
1/4" | 15 IPS / Dolby A analog master to DSD 64 to analog console to lathe
Barcode (Scanned): 8 21797 13811 6
Style: Folk Rock
A1 Tangled Up In Blue
A2 Simple Twist Of Fate
A3 You're A Big Girl Now
A4 Idiot Wind
A5 You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go
B1 Meet Me In The Morning
B2 Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts
B3 If You See Her, Say Hello
B4 Shelter From The Storm
B5 Buckets Of Rain
"This is an outstanding recording but it takes a special pressing to bring it to life. It’s nice when the copy in hand has all the transparency, space, layered depth and three-dimensionality that makes listening to records such a fundamentally different experience than listening to digitally-sourced material, having a rich, relaxed quality. With solid Double Plus (A++) sound or BETTER on both sides, this is an outstanding Blood on the Tracks from start to finish. For tonally-correct, un-hyped acoustic guitars and vocals, the sound of this album is tough to beat in Dylan’s catalog. The better copies are rich, warm, tubey and full-bodied – in other words, they are exactly what’s good about the vintage analog pressings we offer to the discriminating audiophiles who appreciates the difference." (On The Record review)
"Blood on the Tracks is pleasing and complete enough to visit repeatedly, until the syllables become words, the words resolve into meanings, and all of it becomes internalized, a space accessible even without the presence of the album. Perhaps the least dated of Dylan’s recordings, there is a nakedness to everything. Untainted by the politics and cool of the ’60s or the gated drums and overdubbed productions of the ’80s, Blood on the Tracks hits with the same immediacy in the 21st century as it did in 1975.
Just as much as Pink Floyd or any other mid-’70s LP-minded artist, Dylan uses the studio to create and sustain a mood on Blood on the Tracks, and this mood is what survives. Drawing from two sets of sessions and at least three configurations of not-fully-identified musicians to capture a singular batch of songs, the album is a full package of writing, performance, and atmosphere. Withdrawing an early version of the album on the eve of release, musicians from sessions in New York disappeared into the credit of “Eric Weissberg and Deliverance,” and musicians recorded later in Minneapolis received no credit at all. For fans at the time, it was a revelation, both a few notches less cryptic than his ’60s surrealism, but no less mystical, folding in techniques of his old finger-pointin’ (“Idiot Wind”), blues-strummin’ (“Meet Me in the Morning”), vision-havin’ (“Shelter From the Storm”), and story-tellin’ (“Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts”) self, all while tapping into powerful new realms of vulnerability.
Charting at #1 on its January 1975 release, Blood on the Tracks is arguably the last Dylan album on which a majority of the songs became standards of their own, part of the invisible canon shared at coffee houses, college campuses, or anywhere bright-eyed young pickers might congregate. Even roughly 40 years later, Blood on the Tracks broadcasts hurt and longing so boldly it has become a stand-in, the type of shorthand a song licensor would deploy at the push of a button if it wasn’t so expensive and maybe too predictable. It manages a balance of old pain resolved and wounds so fresh they seem as if they might never heal, brutal personal assessment and doubt, unnecessary cruelties and real-time self-flagellation. While Blood on the Tracks can be a constant companion to listeners during periods of initial discovery, it (and Dylan’s whole catalog) has also become something to be lived with over a long period and put away for special occasions." (Pitchfork)