Timothée Chalamet Pulls Off Three Curveball Dylan Covers on ‘Saturday Night Live’

The Never Ending Press Tour rolls on.

Last weekend, Timothée Chalamet took over Saturday Night Live. Hot on the heels of a Best Actor nom for his portrayal of Bob Dylan in A Complete Unknown, Chalamet pulled double duty as both host and musical guest. Discerning viewers knew what to expect from the comedy portion of the show—Chalamet was a delight as ever, sketches were hit and miss as always—but no one was quite sure what he had in store for the music, beyond the fact that he would be playing Dylan songs.

“Tomorrow Is A Long Time,” the last song of the night, was the most obvious choice of the bunch—though still not particularly obvious. A ruddy, romantic artifact from Bob’s early Witmark era, Dylan never bothered to properly record it for a studio album. A live version from 1963 appeared on Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits Vol. II, but the track’s reputation has been burnished over the years via dozens of covers, by everyone from Odetta to Rod Stewart to Chrissie Hynde.

If “Tomorrow” belongs to anyone at this point, it’s Elvis. Presley’s take, which appeared on the soundtrack for his 1966 film Spinout, augmented Bob’s quaint sentimentalism with a smoldering sexuality. The King’s hangdog blues and brutal, beautiful vocals make a good Dylan song great. Even Bob agrees: in a 1969 interview with Jann Wenner, he claimed it was “the one recording I treasure the most.”

In Studio 8H, Timmy took the song back to its roots. Seated center stage on a spotlit stool, Chalamet snapped into A Complete Unknown mode, accompanying himself on acoustic guitar while the band filled out the sound with bass, organ, and other tasteful touches. It wasn’t necessarily the most inspired performance, but it was an inspired choice—particularly considering he could’ve played it safe with a well-known acoustic number like “Blowin’ In The Wind.”

But as he made plain with his first performance of the night, playing it safe wasn’t the plan. Following an introduction from the Sandman, Chalamet launched into “Outlaw Blues,” one of Dylan’s heaviest, hardest rockers. It was a thin, wild mercury performance: strobing lights, razor-sharp guitars, and undeniably sauced-out lead singer.

Strutting around in a hooded parka and bulging black sunglasses like some kind of Zoomer Gallagher brother (Gallagher nephew?), Timmy went full rock star. Between verses, he pranced up and down like a boxer in the ring, then stepped to the mic to bark out immortal lines from Dylan at his most enfant terrible: “Don’t ask me nothin’ about nothin’/I just might tell ya the truth.”

It was the perfect choice: a statement of supreme self-confidence from an artist operating at a cultural peak. “Outlaw Blues” doesn’t quite qualify as a deep cut—nothing from Bringing It All Back Home can, it’s the Mona Lisa of rock records. Still, the song doesn’t have the generational weight of say, “Subterranean Homesick Blues” or “It’s Alright, Ma.” It doesn’t aim to reinvent language or make sweeping statements about society at large. It’s just a badass rock song, the essence of speedfreak swaglord Dylan.

And as great as it was, it paled in comparison to what came next. Chalamet tossed off his jacket and glasses and took a seat next to his organist (the just-revealed James Blake) and segued seamlessly into “Three Angels,” the penultimate track from 1970’s New Morning.

A smooth gospel vamp, “Three Angels” is as dissimilar from “Outlaw Blues” as “Outlaw Blues” is from “Murder Most Foul.” But live from New York, it all somehow worked, congealing into a hazy fanboy fever-dream as exciting for the performer as it was for the audience.

The “Three Angels” pick established Timmy’s bonafides as a Bob head beyond question. New Morning was released half a decade after the period of time documented in A Complete Unknown. There’s no need for him to even be aware of the song (at least not until ACU2: More Complete, More Unknown), much less love it this much. But he is, and he does.

This song had absolutely no business being sung live on network television in 2025 by the most bankable star in Hollywood. It was about as likely as the voice of a generation walking away from it all at the peak of his powers; as likely as a midwestern Jew becoming a born-again Christian after seeing Jesus in a hotel room in Tucson; as likely as the inventor of the singer-songwriter releasing not one, not two, but five albums of Frank Sinatra covers in his 70s. And yet…

Timothée Chalamet isn’t Bob Dylan, but he’s a hell of a lot closer than any of us will ever be.