Tunes Du Jour Presents The Bob Dylan Songbook

One way to measure a songwriter’s reach is not by how often their work is covered, but how widely. The playlist below spans decades, genres, and sensibilities—from Adele to The Dead Weather, from Johnny Cash to the Neville Brothers—and all roads lead back to Bob Dylan. This is not just a reflection of his prominence; it’s a testament to the adaptability of his writing. Dylan’s lyrics aren’t locked into one style or moment—they hold up when filtered through gospel, punk, glam, folk, or soul. His songs invite reimagining because they’re grounded in strong narrative bones and emotional honesty, not ornamental frills.

Consider the different shades of “All Along the Watchtower.” Dylan’s original version is stark and cryptic; Hendrix turned it into an electrified storm. Likewise, “I Shall Be Released,” rendered with hushed reverence by The Band, has the structure of a gospel hymn but the ambiguity of a fable. “Make You Feel My Love,” one of Dylan’s later compositions, found new life in Adele’s version—proof that his songwriting didn’t peak in the ’60s, but simply evolved. His voice as a writer has always been the constant: a blend of plainspoken wisdom, sly humor, and a deep sense of historical and emotional context.

It’s notable, too, how Dylan’s songs seem to absorb the character of the performer. When Elvis Presley sings “Tomorrow Is a Long Time,” it feels like a Southern ballad. When PJ Harvey takes on “Highway 61 Revisited,” it becomes something raw and jagged. Nina Simone’s version of “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” brings out a haunted intensity not present in Dylan’s own delivery. That elasticity points to a rare kind of craftsmanship—songs written with enough specificity to be meaningful, but enough openness to be inhabited.

Even in unexpected settings, Dylan’s words linger. Tom Petty co-wrote the lyrics to “Jammin’ Me” with him, a pointed pop-rock critique of media saturation. Patti Smith’s “Changing of the Guards” channels the mystical imagery and layered storytelling that Dylan deployed throughout the ’70s. And when The Specials tear into “Maggie’s Farm,” it becomes a statement of punk-era defiance. These aren’t nostalgia pieces—they’re songs that meet each era on its own terms.

Dylan’s catalog isn’t just influential; it’s usable. His songs function as cultural currency, endlessly exchangeable yet retaining value. Whether you hear him through Joan Osborne’s gothic reading of “Man in the Long Black Coat” or the crystalline harmonies of Peter, Paul and Mary’s “Blowin’ in the Wind,” what’s most striking is not just who sings Dylan—but what his songs reveal when they do.

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Tunes Du Jour Presents 1960

The year 1960 often gets passed over in rock history—a transitional time between the first burst of rock and roll and the cultural and musical revolutions just a few years away. But to call it sleepy is to miss the point. In fact, many of the year’s hits still reverberate today, not just as nostalgic touchstones but as enduring standards. “The Twist” by Chubby Checker launched a dance phenomenon that would ripple through pop culture for years. And “Save the Last Dance for Me” by the Drifters remains a masterclass in balancing heartbreak and sweetness—still played at weddings and in soundtracks, still finding new generations of listeners.

Ballads carried a lot of weight in 1960, and few did it better than Elvis Presley’s aching “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” or Roy Orbison’s “Only the Lonely,” which showcased his operatic vulnerability. Country narratives crossed into the mainstream with Marty Robbins’ “El Paso,” a story song that unspooled like a Western in miniature. At the other end of the spectrum, Maurice Williams & the Zodiacs’ “Stay” packed teenage yearning into a lean, irresistible one minute thirty-five seconds. And “Wonderful World” by Sam Cooke, though modest in ambition compared to some of his later work, remains a model of warmth and accessibility—a song that’s managed to feel timeless for more than six decades.

The sense of genre boundaries being tested is another hallmark of the year. Ray Charles brought gospel, blues, and pop together on his definitive reading of “Georgia on My Mind,” while Barrett Strong’s “Money (That’s What I Want)” helped lay the foundation for Motown’s impending ascent. Fats Domino’s “Walking to New Orleans” fused New Orleans rhythm with a subtle orchestral flourish, and Bobby Darin’s “Beyond the Sea” added a cosmopolitan swagger to the charts. These weren’t experiments for their own sake—they were evolutions of form, often rooted in deep tradition.

Rock’s wilder edges were still alive, though not always in the spotlight. Ike and Tina Turner’s “A Fool in Love” marked Tina’s explosive debut on the national stage—raw, commanding, and impossible to ignore. Instrumentals also carved out real estate, from the cinematic calm of Percy Faith’s “Theme From ‘A Summer Place’” to the proto-surf energy of The Ventures’ “Walk Don’t Run.” And in the novelty corner, “Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” and “Alley Oop” proved that humor and absurdity had a place in the pop ecosystem.

So while 1960 may not have produced a defining movement, it certainly produced defining songs. These weren’t just placeholders between rock and roll’s rise and the British Invasion—they were records that resonated, sometimes quietly at first, but with a staying power that’s hard to deny. Whether filtered through covers, samples, soundtracks, or simple endurance, many of these tracks are still with us. It wasn’t a year of reinvention—but it was a year of remarkable staying power.


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Tunes Du Jour Presents 1962

The music of 1962 wasn’t so much at a crossroads as it was following several lively paths at once. What captivated the public ranged from soul ballads to novelty records to stirrings of folk activism. Instrumentals, dance crazes, and heartfelt pop all found room on the charts. It’s this eclecticism — rather than any one dominant trend — that best characterizes the year. Yet in small ways, a few songs hinted at larger shifts to come. For example, The Tornados’ “Telstar,” the first U.S. number one by a British group, captured a sense of futuristic possibility that would soon manifest more dramatically with the Beatles and the British Invasion.

Instrumentals found their way into the spotlight in very different forms. While “Telstar” beamed into space with its shimmering, otherworldly sound, Booker T. & the MG’s grounded listeners with the earthy groove of “Green Onions.” Meanwhile, Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd’s “Desafinado” introduced many American listeners to the smoother, jazz-inflected rhythms of bossa nova — a style that would quietly influence pop and jazz recordings throughout the decade. Taken together, these instrumentals showed how musical expression could take new forms without abandoning broad popular appeal, and how lyrics weren’t always necessary to convey strong emotion.

Soul music also solidified its foundation. Sam Cooke’s “Bring It on Home to Me” and Solomon Burke’s “Cry to Me” mixed gospel roots with secular longing in ways that would help define soul music itself. Girl groups and doo-wop continued to resonate, with The Crystals’ “He’s a Rebel” and The Shirelles’ “Soldier Boy” offering different takes on devotion and defiance. Dion’s “The Wanderer” carried forward some of doo-wop’s spirit, while Gene Chandler’s “Duke of Earl” stood proudly as a bridge from doo-wop’s earlier heyday into a new era of soul and R&B. Even novelty records had staying power — Bobby “Boris” Pickett’s “Monster Mash” reached number one and, thanks to perennial Hallowe’en airplay, remains a cultural touchstone.

Folk music, too, gained traction. Peter, Paul & Mary’s debut album, featuring “If I Had a Hammer,” became one of the year’s bestsellers, spending over a month at number one. Its clean harmonies and calls for justice would help set the stage for the socially conscious folk boom led by artists like Bob Dylan, whose own debut — mostly overlooked in 1962 — was just the beginning of a rapid ascent. Meanwhile, outside the U.S., Françoise Hardy’s “Tous Les Garçons Et Les Filles” offered a moody, introspective style that would come to influence the understated emotionality of later French pop and, indirectly, certain strands of indie pop decades later.

Some of 1962’s biggest hits have proven remarkably enduring. Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” originally from the Blue Hawaii soundtrack, has since become one of his most covered and beloved songs. The Contours’ raucous “Do You Love Me” found new life decades later with Dirty Dancing, while Carole King, years before Tapestry, scored her first chart hit as a performer with “It Might as Well Rain Until September” — even as she continued to dominate as a songwriter, co-writing Little Eva’s infectious “The Loco-Motion.” These songs from 1962 don’t just capture a moment in time; they reveal a popular music scene that was broadening and diversifying while quietly laying the groundwork for upcoming revolutions, capturing both the fleeting spirit of its moment and the lasting power of pop at its best in a year where no single trend reigned supreme.

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Tunes Du Jour Presents 1961

The year 1961 didn’t roar in with a musical revolution—but in hindsight, that’s part of its charm. Instead, it offered a series of small but significant steps toward what would become a much louder, wilder, and more politically charged musical landscape. If the ’50s laid the foundation for rock and R&B, then ’61 felt like a transitional hallway: not quite out of the doo-wop era, but inching toward soul, girl groups, and the unmistakable rise of youth-driven pop. Listen closely, and you can hear a generation beginning to test its voice.

The playlist for this year paints a picture of variety and crossover. Ben E. King’s “Stand by Me” combines gospel roots with a pop sensibility, creating a timeless anthem of emotional resilience. Meanwhile, The Marcels inject a doo-wop jolt into “Blue Moon,” turning a Rodgers and Hart chestnut into something utterly of the moment. And “Shop Around” by The Miracles helps define the early Motown sound—polished, melodic, and unmistakably urban—hinting at the empire Berry Gordy was quietly building in Detroit.

Pop and R&B weren’t the only sounds of 1961. The jazz world was still vibrant, and John Coltrane’s take on “My Favorite Things” stretched the familiar into something exploratory and modal, giving the Broadway tune a hypnotic new dimension. Similarly, Art Blakey’s “A Night in Tunisia” offered a fiery reminder that hard bop was far from finished. This year wasn’t just about three-minute singles on AM radio; it also made room for longer-form musical statements that spoke to listeners seeking complexity.

And then there were the voices—so many distinct, unforgettable voices. Roy Orbison’s near-operatic Crying and Patsy Cline’s aching “Crazy” each showed that vulnerability could be commercially viable. The same went for Etta James, whose rendition of “At Last” remains one of the most iconic vocal performances ever recorded. Elsewhere, the lighter side of pop was thriving with Neil Sedaka’s “Calendar Girl” and Bobby Vee’s “Take Good Care of My Baby,” songs built for teenagers who were beginning to see themselves as a cultural force.

Taken together, the music of 1961 reflects a moment in flux: the last glimmers of the 1950s still lingered, but the seeds of what would define the 1960s were clearly being planted. Whether it was Ray Charles fusing gospel and R&B on “Hit the Road Jack,” or the early stirrings of girl-group grandeur from The Marvelettes and The Shirelles, this was a year where nothing yet dominated—but everything seemed possible.

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Tunes Du Jour Celebrates International Be Kind To Lawyers Day

It started, as these things often do, with a law.

Or more accurately, with three: “Law of the Land” (Temptations), “The Laws Have Changed” (New Pornographers), and “You Can’t Rule Me” (Lucinda Williams). A trifecta of declarations, all suggesting that whether you’re enforcing the law or dodging it, someone’s about to get into trouble.

This playlist is my musical tribute to International Be Kind To Lawyers Day — a real holiday, celebrated annually on the second Tuesday in April, for reasons that are presumably legal. It’s not just about lawyers, though. This 30-track journey follows the trajectory of a full-blown legal drama: rules are established, rules are broken, crimes are committed, time is served, lawyers are called, and justice is… complicated.

We meet a few Fun Lovin’ Criminals, some Smooth Criminals, and even those who insist they’re just Criminal Minded. The lawbreakers get caught — there’s fighting, testifying, jail time, and at least one unfortunate visit to the Court of the Crimson King (which, I suspect, is not a traffic violation court).

And let’s not forget the lawyers themselves. They’re gun-toting in one song, love-struck in another, and altogether overburdened. But in honor of their service — and in defense of their billable hours — we end on a note of redemption: “Return to Innocence” by Enigma. Because if music has taught us anything, it’s that legal complications can always be resolved in just over four minutes.

So, whether you’re in the mood to break the law, beat the rap, or rap to the beat of the Fat Boys (or Snoop, Freddie Gibbs, Boogie Down Productions…), press play and pass the gavel. And if you happen to know a lawyer, consider saying something nice. After all, they know where all the paperwork is buried.

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Tunes Du Jour Celebrates World Kindness Day

Today is World Kindness Day. While every day would be a great day to practice basic human decency, some people are nasty assbags with no regard for others. If you’re one of those walking masterpieces of jackholery, here’s a wild idea: try being kind for ONE WHOLE DAY and see what it does. For example, let’s say you’re the personal assistant to someone who lives in a building with other residents. When you’re walking out of the building’s front door just in front of a neighbor who is holding his 17-year-old blind dog and leading his other pupper on a leash, maybe – and I’m just spitballing here – don’t let the door slam in their face, you self-absorbed piece of human garbage. And if said neighbor thoughtfully moves your precious Tesla charging cable to prevent damage (gasp – the audacity of helping!), perhaps, don’t show up at his door and berate him for protecting your property. Wild concept: Show some gratitude for his thoughtfulness. Consider saying “thank you,” you self-important, unreasonable, entitled, high-handed weenie.

FFS people, be kind! Rewind!

(Any resemblance to persons unfortunately living is purely intentional.)

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