[1] In his book Million Dollar Bash, Sid Griffin analyzes each track and gives informed guesses about who is playing what, based on his insights into the six musicians' performance styles on various instruments, and his interviews with Robertson and engineer Rob Fraboni.
[3] Clinton Heylin suggests that this was one of the final basement songs to be recorded, and that here Dylan acknowledges that "when it came to spouting catchphrase choruses while espousing mock profundities in the verses, the process had just about run its course.
[5] Critic Dave Hopkins notes that the demo version included as a bonus track on the 2000 Music from Big Pink reissue is the same performance, without overdubbing.
[6] Griffin calls the song "charming in its own right", but says it would not have fit in on the original Music from Big Pink because it was all too obviously from their past: "an up-tempo bluesy number that the Hawks might have played" in rural Ontario in 1964.
[7] Barney Hoskyns describes the song as one of the Band's early recordings that revealed "the breathtaking scope" of their musical range; he praises "the rollicking bar-room R&B style" of the performance.
According to Dylan biographer Robert Shelton, "Million Dollar Bash" epitomizes what he sees as one of The Basement Tapes' principal themes, joy.
According to Griffin, "Like Elvis's earliest single on Sun Records, the lack of a drummer does not prevent the assembled from swinging on this nonsense like the experienced players they are.
"[11] It would be almost forty years before Dylan would perform the track, presenting it to an initially confused but joyous crowd during one of his shows in Brixton, London, in 2005.
Initially, Robertson recorded the lead vocal for the first version of this song, but because it was set in the South, the Hawks decided that Levon Helm would be a more appropriate singer,[13] employing what Hoskyns describes as his "best redneck-wildcat yelp".
The release of this song, which had not previously appeared on any demo tapes or bootlegs, made clear that more basement tracks existed than fans had believed.
[15] Heylin comments on its uninhibited sexual innuendo, "featuring the usual debauched narrator, rambunctious harmonies, and euphemistic ribaldry" of what he regards as the best basement songs.
"[22] "Lo and Behold" was adopted as the title of an album of unreleased Dylan songs—including a half-dozen basement tracks—recorded by the British group Coulson, Dean, McGuinness, Flint in 1972.
[24] Based on the testimony of engineer Rob Fraboni, Griffin asserts that "Bessie Smith" was recorded by the Band in 1975 in their Shangri-La studio in Los Angeles, as The Basement Tapes was being prepared for official release.
Critic Greil Marcus identifies the tune as that of the ancient children's ditty "Froggy Went A-Courtin'" and quotes Danko's description of the recording: "It all felt natural, we didn't rehearse.
"[30] Describing it as a good-natured nonsense song that really swings, Griffin suggests it was one of the last basement compositions to be recorded before Helm arrived in Woodstock and Dylan departed for Nashville.
Gill likens it to King Lear's soliloquy on the blasted heath in Shakespeare's tragedy: "Wracked with bitterness and regret, its narrator reflects upon promises broken and truths ignored, on how greed has poisoned the well of best intentions, and how even daughters can deny their father's wishes."
"[34] A strong Biblical theme runs through this song, according to Griffin, who notes that "life is brief" is a recurrent message in the Old Testament books Psalms and Isaiah.
He writes that "in Dylan's singing—an ache from deep in the chest, a voice thick with care in the first recording of the song—the song is from the start a sermon and an elegy, a Kaddish.
Dylan's voice is high and constantly bending, carried forward not by rhythm or by melody but by the discovery of the true terrain of the songs as they're sung.
"[45] These lines are adapted from "James Alley Blues" by Richard "Rabbit" Brown—a song Dylan would have heard on Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music.
This song is, according to Heylin, perhaps the first of the original compositions that Dylan and the Band recorded in Big Pink, having warmed up on a wide range of traditional material.
He calls it "the prototype for a number of standout songs in a new-found style" that employs uninhibited, nonsensical lyrics: "Scratch your dad/Do that bird/Suck that pig/And bring it on home".
[50] Roger McGuinn felt that the song was perfect for the Byrds: "It was country-ish and had that Dylan mystique where you couldn't really figure what he was talking about, yet the lyrics nevertheless drew you in.
The refrain of this song is lifted from a 1947 number one hit by Count Basie, "Open the Door, Richard"—which is what Dylan actually sings in his chorus.
Fariña died in a motorcycle crash on April 30, 1966, on his way home from a launch party for his debut novel, Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me, so the song may be an homage to a departed friend.
[60] "The song lopes along jauntily", writes Gill, "tendering obscure bits of baffling advice, some common sense, others with the cryptic power of folk remedies: value your memories properly, they won't come again; flush out your house if you don't want to be housing flushes; swim a certain way if you want to live off the fat of the land; and forgive the sick before you try to heal them.
[61] In Shelton's description, "Despite its light source, agony tempers the joy, contrasting not only Dylan's conflicts but also his ability to grow despite holding opposing ideas and impulses in his mind.
"[15] Manuel – vocal, harmonica; Robertson – guitar; John Simon – piano; Hudson – organ; Danko – bass; Helm – drums.
[62] This song was written by Dylan, and he had performed it as early as December 4, 1965, at a concert in Berkeley, California—soon after the Hawks had started to back him on his rock and roll tour.
[13][62] Gill calls it "half an idea fleshed out to a riff" that is a funky blues extension of the classic Chuck Berry song "Memphis, Tennessee".