I resorted to desperate counter-programming as I drove home from pre-pandemic Folk Alliance International Conference sessions. After being deluged with hours of banjo and conscientious protest songs, I felt compelled to queue up digital productions by the antisocial likes of Kevin Gates. Not this year. I’m all in on the six-hour and thirteen-minute reissue of Bob Dylan’s Time Out of Mind. I loved the album as a new release in 1997. It sounds even better now. The former folkie’s ravaged voice, gothic blues and frequently hilarious lyrics reflect my current worldview. My default soundtrack also led to a synchronized bout of serendipity. A 16-minute version of “Highlands” began as I left the garage of a midtown hotel after midnight last week. The song ended when I pulled into my driveway. I too “feel like a prisoner in a world of mystery.”