Trump in the White House, the world in turmoil. The times they are a-changin’ — but, at 75, Bob Dylan’s done singing about it.
Instead, on the 38th album of his career, the Nobel Prize-winner can be found crooning his way through the American songbook.
One’s enjoyment of Triplicate will depend largely on one’s appetite for Dylan’s latter-day voice.
Limited in range, it can prove testing company over this three-disc, 30-song collection.
Equally, there are some achingly lovely moments. The string-soaked nostalgia of September of My Years and smokey blues of Stormy Weather are full of gravelly gravitas.
Interestingly, for a man renowned for reworking his own songs to the point of obscurity, he handles this collection with cotton-gloved care.
The result is an album that’s sensitively realised, but of interest only to the most devout of Dylanites.
