Nobody took The Traveling Wilburys too seriously—even the band members themselves. Want proof? Consider that 1990’s The Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 3 was the band’s first album since 1988’s The Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1—the supposed Vol. 2 didn’t exist. And while members Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, George Harrison and Jeff Lynne had all experienced bouts of self-seriousness in their careers, Vol. 3 has plenty of moments in which they express their inner silliness: Harrison makes cracks about falling down and dropping his dentures (“Wilbury Twist”), while Petty jokes about his skin glowing from the poison sprayed on his golf course (“The Devil’s Been Busy”). As for Dylan, he doesn’t have to work too hard to kid around: His haggard, thrice-divorced-and-still-courting delivery is comedy enough (“7 Deadly Sins”). As with Vol. 1, the charm in Vol. 3 lies in the band’s magical combination of knowing and naïveté: If their solo careers demanded they be important artists, the Wilburys gave them space to be innocent again. The album also serves as a playground for the band’s collective nostalgia, nodding to folk-rock (“Inside Out”), doo-wop (“7 Deadly Sins”), country (“Poor House”) and the delirium of 1950s dance crazes (“Wilbury Twist”). That’s not to say that Lynne’s production ever replicates the grit of band members’ inspirations. The ELO co-founder worked on this album on the heels of Petty’s Full Moon Fever and Harrison’s Cloud Nine, and like those records, Vol. 3 is a glossy, pop-art fantasy of rock ’n’ roll—less than the genuine article than a romantic, airbrushed memory. The Wilburys didn’t want to bring the past back; there was no point to that. But they did want you to know how it felt to be there.