'Blood on the Tracks' Remains the Greatest Break-up Album

"A lot of people tell me they 'enjoyed' that album. It's hard for me to relate to that — people enjoying that type of pain, you know?" (Bob Dylan, speaking about "Blood on the Tracks" in early 1975 on Mary Travers' radio show.)

To whom do you turn when your romance has hit a snag? Or, when the rot sets in between you and your beloved and you just know that the clock is ticking till a sad end? Or, when you dig down deep to your emotional core, and suck it up and admit that it is too late to put the genie back in the bottle?

Me? Luckily, I have had lots of trusted loved ones and friends during my moments of despair. Still, I invariably turn for solace to "Blood on the Tracks," Bob Dylan's masterpiece, which Dylan recorded 50 years ago in New York and Minneapolis. It was released in January, 1975.

And like a good friend, through thick and thin, "Blood on the Tracks" has never let me down. I feel stronger when I listen to it. I realize that I'm not the only self-described schnook who is going through such inner turmoil — and whether I've caused it or not, damn it! I don't feel quite so alone. And isn't that what we can ask of a friend?

"Blood on the Tracks" has been (correctly) hailed as the greatest break-up album in popular music history. I know, I know. Any number of Joni Mitchell's albums deserve serious mentions. "My Aim Is True," Elvis Costello's debut gem, belongs, too. And what about "Tonight's the Night" by Neil Young? You betcha. You can surely think of many other contenders. But I'm confident that Dylan's brilliant album tops them all.

Dylan, indeed, dug down deep in this collection of songs. The album title, alone, reveals a large story. We know immediately that Dylan might just be in a confessional state of mind. He has something to get off his chest. We can draw clues that not all is well in the mysterious, captivating land of the Bard of Hibbing, Minnesota.

In retrospect, Dylan had a lot riding on the success of "Blood on the Tracks." After a sojourn at David Geffen's Asylum label, Dylan had signed a fat contract with Columbia Records, a month before he started recording the album, and returned to his longtime professional home. Clearly, Dylan wanted to turn heads on his first album of original songs, back at Columbia, in four years (not counting the novelty of his soundtrack for Sam Peckinpah's film, "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid").

Dylan had been getting beaten up in the music press for years. He was derided as a cuddly songwriter who lacked the fire to scale the heights of such works of brilliance as "Highway 61 Revisited" and "Blonde on Blonde."

Finally, Dylan had something to say about life. The songwriter who had bored fans and disillusioned critics was roaring back. Dylan was no longer determined to cloak the meaning of his songs in mystery. For years, his most ardent fans had played a never-ending parlor game by asking who Dylan was singing about. Remember "Positively Fourth Street?" And "Don't Think Twice?" and "Like a Rolling Stone?"

On "Blood on the Tracks," we KNOW who he is singing about: himself and his faltering marriage to his first wife Sara (they divorced in 1977, after 12 years of marriage). No less of an authority than their son Jakob Dylan told critic Anthony DeCurtis that the revealing songs on "Blood on the Tracks" made him think, "That's about my parents."

Plus, Bob Dylan was at something of a crossroads in 1974 for all of his success – or maybe because of it. Columbia was trumpeting newcomer Bruce Springsteen as "The New Dylan."

While it was a catchy ad slogan, The "Old" Dylan resented being compared to someone who had released two albums and was so green that he had yet to put out his anthem, "Born to Run."

The rock community embraced "Blood on the Tracks."

"I have to tell you, I loved the album," said Mary Travers of Peter, Paul and Mary on her radio show in 1975.

And as Greil Marcus, writing about "Blood on the Tracks" in his book "Stranded: Rock and Roll for a Desert Island," said: "After years of desultory albums, and haphazard inspiration, he roared back, and what returned was the intensity of his performance, the impossibility of getting out of his way … As he always had in his best moments, he sang in a voice that brought home menace and acceptance, age and rebirth, terror and peace, dust to dust."