Nothing here should work but goddamn if every fucking moment does. Nothing less than the collapse and encapsulation of the entire discographies of Bob Dylan and Lou Reed in a tight 45 minutes, throwing the old into the light and presenting it as new, having it genuinely be so. Impossible to believe he ever made another album this good, let alone another two or three. Impossible to think someone this fresh could ever age, except here we are. Don't ever let anyone listen to this album lest they convince themselves this kind of elevated slop is easy, that transcendence is as straightforward as not playing your guitar well. It's either foie gras from the gas station or cheetos from Vetri, but it's a remarkable meal either way.
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