Bob Dylan is still making albums and touring, but he could release a string of duds or continue to make gruff, late-career gems for the rest of his life, and the impact on his legacy will be negligible.

He has to watch as his life’s work is excavated, catalogued and shaped not only by Todd Haynes’ new experimental biopic “I’m Not There,” but the new “Dylan” three-disc greatest hits package, the deluxe re-release of “Don’t Look Back” earlier this year, the Newport concerts new to DVD and, to a lesser extent, the multitude of artists’ interpretation on the “I’m Not There” soundtrack.

Like the movie where six different actors — including Heath Ledger, Richard Gere and Cate Blanchett — portray different aspects of Dylan’s slippery persona, the soundtrack has 29 different artists, old and young, tackle Dylan’s music over two sprawling discs. Unlike some of the latest efforts to repackage Dylan’s songs, the soundtrack doesn’t treat Dylan as a greatest-hits relic or ’60s icon. Rather the artists dip into every phase of his career, and the result is a covers album that actually sounds fresh and revelatory.

I suppose for those who like Dylan’s songs but not his voice - an opinion I’ve never understood - this is an enticing album. However, the best interpretations are by the artists whose voices have distinctive tics and character and manage to get underneath Dylan’s skin, reveling in his distinctive phrasing.

Stephen Malkmus, the former lead singer of Pavement, makes himself right at home in fantastic renditions of both “Ballad of a Thin Man” and “Maggie’s Farm.” Cat Power makes a case for her impersonation being the definitive female take on Dylan (sorry, Cate Blanchett) on “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again.” Jim James of My Morning Jacket uses his distinctive moan to make “Goin to Acapulco” (from “The Basement Tapes”) ache, just as it should.

The soundtrack is a mix of older and younger artists, with no generation ceding ground to the other. Backed by the indie band Calexico, The Byrds’ Roger McGuinn turns in an album highlight with “One More Cup of Coffee,” a take that strikes a balance between comely and haunting. Calexico also backs up Willie Nelson, who seems completely oblivious of Dylan as icon as he sings “Senor (Tales of Yankee Power)” as if it were his own, and it’s as good as anything he’s ever done.

Calexico and a super-band called the Million Dollar Bashers — comprised of Television’s Tom Verlaine, members of Sonic Youth, Wilco’s guitarist Nels Cline and Dylan’s bassist — act as the house band for much of the album. And while the Calexico songs are uniformly excellent, not even the Million Dollar Bashers’ rowdiest racket can redeem Eddie Vedder’s rote performance of “All Along the Watchtower.” However, with more than 30 songs and a Jack Johnson performance, it’s surprising there are no complete groaners, and only a few forgettable performances.

This soundtrack is proof that Dylan never stopped making great songs, but it’s obvious the reverence these artists have for the material keeps them from straying too far from the originals. This is not such a bad thing considering these are some of the best songs of the 20th century, and the different ways the artists channel Dylan makes for great listening. But I doubt a maverick like Dylan ever wanted to be another sacred cow, and it’s telling that one of the best Dylan songs in years is the funky, horn-saturated Mark Ronson remix of “Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine)” that Dylan commissioned for the “Dylan” greatest-hits package. Proof that Dylan’s songs are sturdy enough to be kicked around a bit.

However, as an old artist looking back over his career, the kind of self-reflection I doubt even Dylan is immune from, he can take comfort in the fact that nothing here shines like the last track on the album — Dylan’s own version of “I’m Not There.” Recorded during “The Basement Tapes” sessions with The Band at Big Pink in 1967, “I’m Not There” is a majestic, haunting, malformed masterpiece that has gone officially unreleased for 40 years.



Jeremiah Tucker writes for The Joplin (Mo.) Globe.