Soon after Time Out of Mind rang back to life that cathedral bell in his wandering mind — his Genius Zone, or whatever you want to call it — Bod Dylan made some moves.
Whatever you want to call it: the Zone is what makes somebody extraordinary, a conjurer, knocking down just a peg peers like John Prine and Joni and Leonard Cohen and the Rain Dog and a raft of other troubadours and American chroniclers who wear that Legend hat. It’s whatever part of his mind rendered him capable of magicking art that defined a time — the folky early and mid-Sixties (and all of the Sixties, for that matter) — and a place, a scene (Greenwich Village). But thirty-some-odd years later, after the triumph of Time Out of Mind, Bob Dylan’s Genius Zone was back, and he decided it was time to define not an era but a half a century.
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