I was born too late for the first phase of Dylan fandom. I was still having toddler tantrums when Bringing It All Back Home came out; he’d retired to the country to raise kids of his own just as I was entering primary school. But boy, did I make up for it later on.

By the time I was at Edinburgh University in the early 80s, I could have bored for Scotland on His Bobness, and frequently did, I’m afraid (apologies to all that knew me then). I’d like to think I’ve broadened my musical horizons a bit since then, but maybe not all that much.

Anyways. The early 80s were a particularly unwise time to become a Dylan fan, to be honest. By then, the best of his born-again Christian albums had already come and gone (Slow Train Coming, 1979) and the decade dawned with Saved, which to be fair I’ve never even listened to (I may get around to doing so in the light of this series). Then, in August, 1981, came Shot of Love. I remember a radio interview the Great Man did with UK DJ Paul Gambaccini to help promote it at the time. It was ‘his most explosive album yet,’ quoth He (it had a picture of an explosion on the cover). It could be his last album with lyrics, he claimed: he had said all there was to say, he said, and he would concentrate on instrumentals henceforth.

I still don’t know how firmly Bob’s tongue was in his cheek at the time – Dylan only knows. I went out and bought the vinyl and … was severely underwhelmed. It might have been this album that marked a sea change in my listening habits, with much more Springsteen and Dire Straits (along with a decent amount of New Wave) appearing in what youngsters now would call their playlist. Partly this was necessity, as it was to be another two years before Dylan’s next effort, Infidels, surfaced.

What fans like me didn’t know was the difficult birth the album had. Plus, knowing now all too well how fickle the Muse can be, I feel more than a twinge of sympathy for the guy who, having stormed the universe with early songs like ‘Blowin in the Wind,’ ‘Hard Rain,’ ‘Like a Rolling Stone,’ etc etc., was on the music biz treadmill like everyone else. There were mortgages to pay and kids to get through college, not to mention an ex-wife to maintain and one hell of a complicated set of relationships with his backing singers to upkeep.

This was his twenty-first studio album in twenty years, and it showed. Having parted company with his previous producers, Dylan auditioned Jimmy Iovine, then one of the hottest talents around, but found him wanting. Some songs that were to end up on the album, like ‘Every Grain of Sand,’ had been recorded already with Dylan’s then standing band: Iovine was given the task of nailing down ‘Caribbean Wind,’ which never made it onto the album, despite being better than almost anything that did (apart perhaps from the frankly weird heavy breathing in between verses). Judge for yourself:

For whatever reason, Iovine and Dylan parted company, and Dylan continued informal sessions with his band round various LA studios, trying and apparently failing to find a sound to his satisfaction. At some point veteran producer and pal Bumps Blackwell stopped by and helped to produce some of the songs; Chuck Plotkin was eventually hired to bring the whole thing in to land. Even then, Dylan and Plotkin disagreed on the mixes for some time, until eventually, either agreement was reached or they both gave up and something, anything, was turned in to Columbia. Drummer Jim Keltner later claimed that most of the mixes were the monitor mixes – rough and ready approximations to be going on with, in general, until a proper one was done.

So, to the songs on that piece of vinyl I breathlessly brought home and plopped on the turntable back in 1981.

First up, the title track, which as late as 1983 Dylan was claiming was ‘his most perfect song.’ Well, it’s spirited, at least, and the vocal is heartfelt. It also (I think) features Clydie King on backing vocals, and her voice is lovely. Apart from that, it’s typical of Dylan’s ‘born again’ period lyrically, banging on about Christian topics in a way that’s not immediately attractive to us infidels. The only Bumps Blackwell production to make the cut, it sounds a  lot better than some of what’s to follow.

A case in point is the next track, ‘Heart of Mine.’ Apparently there are multiple versions, but the one on the record was recorded on a day Ronnie Wood and Ringo Starr stopped by: Dylan said it was recorded ‘in about ten minutes,’ and that’s ten minutes none of them will ever get back. Perhaps the thought of having a Beatle and a Rolling Stone on the album credits influenced him, but I’d like to think he doesn’t think that way.

I only hope it was a decent red wine they were on, because that can be the only positive output from that session of all the talents. Even the backing singer, trying gamely to keep up, sounds out of tune.

Next up, more preachy stuff in ‘Property of Jesus,’ a slightly better mix, but suffering from the same problems that bedevil so much of Dylan’s gospel phase for many of us. The lyrics are sketchy: ‘jump’ rhyming with ‘chump,’ to give one particularly egregious example. Maybe it does it for true believers, but ‘Mr Tambourine Man’ it ain’t.

The next track, ‘Lenny Bruce,’ has a more secular subject, being a tribute to the late comedian. It was apparently quite controversial at the time, although Bruce has long since entered the pantheon of irreverent, misunderstood stars. It’s a nice production, Dylan on piano, accompanied by organ and some subtle guitar arpeggios, with the backing singers providing a lovely gospelly halo around one of Dylan’s better vocal performances. He still had it in his set when I saw him several years later, backed by Tom Petty’s band, and the live version was passionate.

‘Watered-down Love’ is next on the vinyl version, and is a nice, funky love song of the kind Dylan has knocked out in about 5 minutes at various points in his career. The band start and finish at the same time, and everyone sings in tune. Not bad at all.

‘Dead Man, Dead Man’ is next. I’m never keen on white man’s reggae, but this is pretty funky. Lyrically it presages some of the tracks on Infidels, and gets across a Christian message without ramming it down your throat. Listening to it after an interval of 40 years, I really like it.

‘In the Summertime,’ similarly, is a little-known gem, recently covered by Chrissie Hynde in her album of Dylan covers. Devotees particularly welcomed the blasts of moothie on this one.

A stronger second side continues with a dirty blues-tinged track, ‘Trouble.’ Again, Dylan’s lyrical game goes up a notch, and the band sound like they’re enjoying themselves. It’s loose, but that kind of fits the style.

Last track on the album is the one people generally say is the highlight, ‘Every Grain of Sand.’ Apparently Dylan played it on his most recent (2025) tour, and it’s generally seen as having the most longevity of any of these songs. EmmyLou Harris does a particularly good version.

So, then. Is ‘Shot of Love’ have as strong a whiff of the brown stuff as I thought, earnest little Dylanologist as I was back then?

Let’s put it this way. I’m not rushing out to buy it again (my vinyl version is long gone). The production values are non-existent on some songs. Some of it sounds shrill and preachy. But.

The really frustrating thing, and your man has form for this, is that there’s a kernel of a much better album in there, if he’d included the tracks he left off.  Take out ‘Property of Jesus’ and ‘Heart of Mine,’ and put in ‘Caribbean Wind’ (see above) and ‘Angelina’ (see below), an absolutely brilliant pair of songs, and you’d have something decent.

But that’s not all.

Those of you following me on Youtube, or with the CD version, will be wondering why I’ve left out ‘Groom’s Still Waiting at the Altar,’ a storming rocker which justifies its inclusion on the lyric

‘What can I say about Claudette?
Ain’t seen her since January
She could be respectably married or in a whorehouse in Buenos Aires’ alone.

Well, ask Dylan, not me – it wasn’t on the original vinyl version. I’ve included the link below. I know. It rocks, right?

My theory about all of this is that Dylan is just a contrary critter, and someone made the mistake of telling him how brilliant these three songs were, and it made him all the more determined to drop them off.

Dylan only knows. Let’s be kind though: the guy wasn’t having a fun time in 1980/81. Several people close to him had died, including Mike Bloomfield, the guitarist who backed him when he went electric at Newport, all those years before. He was respected as one of the greats, but recent musical trends didn’t seem to be going in his direction, leading him to mutter darkly in one contemporary interview about ‘punk waves and new waves.’ Plus there was that back catalogue to live up to. And one hell of a complicated love life with those backing singers to navigate.

Finally, if you’re still with me, some Dylan related news of my own, as I’ve been part of a collaboration with three fine musicians to produce a cover of ‘Political World,’ a 1980s Dylan song! It’s fair to say, having in the past put together a band to play a gig dedicated to the 1989 album it’s off, that Oh Mercy won’t be featuring in this series, as it’s one of my favourites.

The cover is available on an EP which also features original work by Graham Crawford, Joel David Weir, Anthony LaLota, and me. It was originally inspired by Joel, Anthony and me comparing notes on the awful state of American politics (Joel and Antony are US singer-songwriters, so have to live with the consequences of the Orange Eejit’s election).

All proceeds go to National Immigrant Justice Center, a charity, we’re sure, close to The Donald’s heart. So if you really want to piss him off, you know what to do!