Hallelujah. “Tell it, Bob”, cry the session conscripts on ‘Rainy Day Women #12 & 35’, as the travelling spiritual rattles into town. 'The Hammond' testifies on ‘One Of Us Must Know (Sooner Or Later)’. Salvation awaits at the Blonde On Blonde revival tent. Dylan’s raucously entertaining melodrama swaggers and swoons between costumed surrealism (‘Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again’), poppy field interludes and pot shots at John Lennon, but mostly he’s preaching about love.
Enraptured by muse and earlier covenant woman Sara, the final scene (‘Sad-eyed Lady Of The Lowlands’) is a bended knee declaration. But in the quasi-religious ecstasy of his state, there remains a fear of false idols and impossible ideals (‘Louise, she’s alright, she’s just near’).
That incredible Blonde sound, the one Dylan later described as “wild mercury, metallic and bright gold, with whatever that conjures up” is a leap of faith. Whatever 'faith' means. Magnificent.