VA - I'm Not There (2007)

As a tribute, I'm Not There should be mediocre. At least, it should be expected to be, considering that passability is par for the course on these kind of mass reclamation projects, where the past is dredged up and passed around to a lot of willing (and often dirty) hands. As long as it's not atrocious (and maybe even if it is) the tribute will succeed in reminding us why we liked the original so much in the first place. I'm not sure exactly who to thank, but this one does better than that. It doesn't just exist on its own, it's impressive, even daunting, not because of the work of one artist but because of its levelheadedness, its size and its range.

There are 29 artists or groups represented, with a sort of revolving cast of musicians (Tom Verlaine, John Medeski, Lee Ranaldo, Calexico and others) doing a lot of extra work here and there. This house band (called The Million Dollar Bashers) stands as a supergroup of skilled musicans who aren't terribly exciting names. The rest of the selection follows the same mold - the best thing to call the choices is sober - which sounds boring but actually gives this whole thing the strength to sustain itself for so long (34 tracks, more than 2.5 hours) and with so many hands in the pot. There are no huge surprises but also no disasters.

Most importantly, there's also no deluge of in vogue radio favorites or buzz bands or even classic contemporaries. There are nods in each direction, and while these are some of the biggest missteps (Jack Johnson, Los Lobos, Sufjan Stevens) they're generally inoffensive (although Stevens comes really close).

As is the case with covers in general, the worst songs are the ones that stray to close to a format, whether it's that of the original song or the artist's own sound. Typically then, the crappiest stuff here is not only the retreads (Cat Power doing a half-hearted, husky impression of Blonde on Blonde Bob) but the covers that depart stylistically from both Dylan and the rest of the album (Sufjan giving "Ring Them Bells" the sixth-grade band recital treatment, The Hold Steady spilling beer and cigarette ash all over "Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?," Karen-O screeching through "Highway 61 Revisited" with witless megaphone cadence).

Maybe I'm being a little harsh, but these uninspired flights of fancy look ridiculous next to great interpretations from some notable stalwarts, namely Stephen Malkmus, Sonic Youth and Yo La Tengo, whose six combined songs justify this album by themselves. Sonic Youth does nearly the same thing that the younger indies fail at - applying their own sound on top of Dylan's - but it's done through the subtlest intrusion, a layer of almost wispy distortion on the title track.

The old-timers here also do well for themselves, and again, the album is smart to not force any overbearing personalities upon us. There's Roger McGuinn, who reinivented "Mr. Tambourine Man" with The Byrds and contributes a spot-on cover of "One More Cup of Coffee." Calexico nails the backing on this one, casting it as a revolving wheel of violin, organ, mariachi trumpet and Spanish guitar that's indicative of the stellar work they do in their five appearances here. Richie Havens, Willie Nelson and Ramblin' Jack Elliott are great at transposing the gruff harshness of modern Dylan onto his younger songs. Standouts also include Mark Lanegan ( a vast, spectral version of "Man in the Long Black Coat"), Charlotte Gainsbourg (gossamer and just fragile enough on "Just Like a Woman") and Eddie Vedder, whose cover of "All Along the Watchtower," while more a success for his backing artists (the usuals) is a twisted rendition that lands somewhere between the original and the Hendrix version.

I'm guessing the theme here is meant to be the same as the movie (he's everyone, he's no one, he's a rambling vampire drawing from all kinds of musical veins) and if so, the producers have done a great job at representing one man with many voices without resorting to the gimmickry of a Fall Out Boy appearance or the security of a classic-rock roundup. Best of all, this isn't a greatest hits album, it's a journey, the selections are often obscure and the format is intimidating, both for its size and the unfamiliarity of many of these songs. Like Dylan himself, I'm Not There is undefinable, challenging, and ultimately very satisfying.