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In late 1961, just a year after arriving in New York City from the Midwest, Bob Dylan it already contained multitudes. The test comes right at the beginning of Through the Open Windowthe 18th edition of the series Bootleg of Dylan. That autumn, the artist, just 20 years old, recorded his first album with producer John Hammond. Among the many unreleased tapes crammed into the box’s eight discs are leftovers from these sessions, including an alternative version of the traditional “Man of Constant Sorrow“.Sounding like an insecure Boy Scout asking for his boss’s approval after attempting a square knot, Dylan take a shot and ask Hammond: “Did you get this? Did you like this?” But when Hammond asks if anyone had already recorded the song, a Dylan different emerges. “Not like that. In a different way, I guess,” he says, before mentioning a fellow member of the scene who had previously released a version of the song. “Judy Collins he did. But not a version… not like that. This is different.”

In a collection that offers us countless glimpses into the growth and creative process of Dylan before becoming an electric artist, this moment is at once throwaway and a profound revelation. The version of Dylan to “Man of Constant Sorrow” isn’t much better than anyone else’s; he doesn’t rock it like he did with other folk and blues songs he was playing at the time. But his subtle rejection of Collins it’s a sign of the arrogant, impetuous kid who was already beginning to emerge — the same one who managed to put people down on his way to redefining himself and shaking up both the New York folk scene and the pop world in general.

Taking place between 1956 and 1963, Through the Open Window serves as an unofficial follow-up to the biopic A Complete Strangerfrom last year. It starts before that totally believable and moving movie, with a teenager Robert Zimmerman touching the success of Shirley & Lee “Let the Good Times Roll” in a music store in St. Paul (the first known recording of Dylan). The box set ends about two years before the mind-blowing performance of Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965, depicted in the film. It tells a familiar story: a sincere and ambitious but seemingly clumsy boy with a mysterious past moves to the big city, enters the musical community, impresses everyone with his skills and songs, and then begins to leave behind all those inspired by news headlines in favor of more ambitious, poetic and personal goals.

Needless to say, this story was told in their official releases at the time, Bob Dylan the Another Side of Bob Dylan and Bringing It All Back Home and beyond. But Through the Open Window brings us another side of this transformation. Using a multitude of sources—unearthed club recordings, Dylan singing in people’s homes or at rallies, leftovers from recording sessions, comments on stage — it allows us to listen while Dylan moves from the Midwest to New York, frequents the Village coffee shop and club circuit, tries out songs for friends, interacts with other artists, plunders part of his repertoire (especially that of his mentor Dave Van Ronk) and even interacts with an enthusiastic radio DJ. As familiar as the map is, we have never been offered such a granular document of this metamorphosis and how rapid and relentless it can be.

Compiled by Steve Berkowitz and Sean Wilentzthe massive box set (also available in a two-disc version for Dylanologists on a budget) includes a certain amount of material already available in previous editions of the series Bootleg and other compilations of Dylan. But 48 of his cuts were never heard by anyone other than collectors and custodians of Dylanwhich gives additional weight to its historical value. We finally heard one of their sets from the fall of 1961 at Gerde’s Folk City: not the one that New York Times critic Robert Shelton saw, resulting in the rave review that secured the Dylan your record deal, but one a few nights later, which is pretty close. We have the first live performance of “Blowin’ in the Wind“, which shows how complete the music was from the beginning. Not all of these rarities live up to their legends: that Folk City set is a bit anticlimactic, and “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues“, his infamous jab at the crazy conservative group, is a little too cute. But his appearance in any collection of Dylan It should have been done a long time ago.

Along the way, however, the transformation of Dylan from a plucky, playful folk newcomer—a walking, talking, cap-wearing version of the Anthology of Folk Music collection everyone was discovering at the time—into master of his domain is heard in ways large and small. Recordings of him playing songs by Woody Guthrie and Jesse Fuller before moving to New York show how he was already completely involved in American vernacular music; his sound and persona were already building before he hopped in his friend’s car and traveled to New York. We also hear more in-depth examples of the way he plundered the springs around him. In a recording of an early and more uneven version of “Tomorrow Is a Long Time“, he mentions the “recorder” in front of him as if he were auditioning for a biopic of Guthrie.

As anyone who attended his early performances in New York will still attest, Dylan it was also legitimately funny, and the comedic timing on display in these tapes is another revelation. At several shows, he regales audiences with stories of almost being hit by a bus on the way to venues, the idea of ​​written setlists (“I don’t really believe in lists… I went around copying the best songs I could find from everyone’s playlists,” he jokes), or a cheesy movie he had just seen in Times Square (“Don’t tell anyone,” he jokes, adding: “42nd Street, a street very cool”). It’s a talkative and captivating side of Dylan which we have rarely, if ever, heard on stage since. There are also hints of her post-folk future in one of her earliest original songs, “I Got a New Girl“, which he sings as if he were preparing to Self-Portrait (1970) years later, and in the piano locomotive “Bob Dylan’s New Orleans Rag“, an outtake from Times They Are A-Changin’ (1964) that resonates with a rock & roll soul. He was no purist from the start.

As the box set approaches its finale—the complete recording of his Carnegie Hall concert in the fall of 1963, which cemented his stature—the feeling of Dylan through traditional songs he deepens, and the rapid growth in his own compositions is surprising. The transformation process of “Tomorrow Is a Long Time” and a version of “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” recorded at a friend’s house in Los Angeles are mesmerizing. When he arrives at Carnegie Hall, with three albums under his belt, Dylan He is completely in command of his voice, his songs and his presence. He sings “North Country Blues” as if he were a member of that family, before moving on to “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall,” which feels like a statement in itself: This was what folk music felt like back then, but this is folk music now, and on its own terms.

This tape, which occupies the last two discs of Through the Open Windowis also unexpectedly enlightening. The audience is silent during his protest songs and laughs adoringly when he talks about an academic who didn’t quite understand the title phrase of “Blowin’ in the Wind“. (“Now this guy is going to be a teacher!” Dylan retorts.) They seem to be in awe of him, as they should: the recording stands as one of the greatest (unreleased) concert albums of Dylan.

At that moment, the very thought that he would largely abandon that approach and some of those songs — he would never play some of them again, like “Lay Down Your Weary Tune“—it must have been absurd, and we shared his disorientation. Yet he moved on, leaving that period in the dust of Carnegie Hall. But as Through the Open Window makes it clear, he was always on the verge of closing one window and opening another to an entirely different world.

• A Complete Unknown

• Bob Dylan

• bootleg

• John Hammond

• Through the Open Window

• A Complete Stranger

• Woody Guthrie