A friend passed along this sad note on Levon Helm‘s Web site. I knew Helm had been battling cancer, and he didn’t look like the picture of health over the last few years, but it saddens me to think that yet another member of a band that has meant so much to me since childhood, The Band, is about to cross maybe the greatest of divides.
The Band’s second, self-titled album is one of the first albums my uncle gave me when I was a little boy. I played it to death and wore out the textured gatefold album cover with all the time I spent gazing at those beards, almost groping at the pictures of them recording such magical music in regular-looking surroundings. Robbie Robertson was The Genius, but Levon had the best beard—and he sang “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” like his life depended on it. No, that’s not right: like the South’s legacy depended on it. I still get chills every time I hear that song. As a little kid the gave me a “living” sense of a significant piece of our nation’s history. A young Yankee felt a kinship with those ancient Southerners. I still do, despite the fact that I’ve hardly spent any time in the South excluding trips to tourist traps in Florida.
When The Last Waltz was released my childhood love of rock ‘n roll was rekindled in a big way. I started learning all sorts of nerdy things about The Band that I wasn’t aware of at the age of 6, including the band members’ Canadian roots, all but Helm’s, that is. He was the real-deal Confederate of my boyhood Civil War fantasies. Watching him sing with his head cocked, his shoulders hunched, and that half-smile was a revelation. I was used to seeing Ringo happily bashing away and singing “Boys” or whatever crowd pleaser he was assigned, but Levon was something else. He brought funk and fire to The Band that never came off hokey, the way the performances of a then-peaking Southern rock hero like Ronnie Van Zandt could to a private school-educated kid from the Northeast.
A few years after having seen The Last Waltz my first 20 or so times but before Rick Danko and Richard Manuel died I awoke from a nightmare meeting with a post-Robbie version of The Band backstage at some old club. Rick, Richard, and Levon looked like hell, 10 times worse than they did in their most stoned interview scenes from Martin Scorsese’s film. They could barely function beyond tuning up their instruments prior to the show. I was relieved to snap out of that dream and put those images out of mind. Robbie was right to call it a day when he did.
Of course I have no idea what the backstage scene during those post-Robbie years was like. I have no idea how Levon Helm lived his life. I have not had any interest in reading his autobiography or some Greil Marcus tome on The Band that I believe exists. Greil Marcus usually sucks the life out of rock ‘n roll. Bitter rock autobiographies, as I’ve heard Helm’s book was, hold little interest for me, as well. I love The Band, and I love each member of The Band. Separately, on a musical level, they were just guys to me. I got the feeling I’d have had more fun seeing a hack like George Thorogood than any assortment of The Band’s former members. It was fun seeing Levon pop up in a movie now and then.
After Levon Helm lost his singing voice to his cancer he kept his spirit rolling with a series of shows known as Midnight Rambles at his Woodstock property. Hearing Levon croak through bar-band staples still held little interest for me, but catching one of these shows promised something special and life affirming, something opposed to that dream I had circa 1984. A year or two ago Mavis Staples was appearing at a Midnight Ramble. I thought about seeing if I could get a ticket and making the trip. More than ever I regret not pulling the trigger.
To Levon!
A long time ago I remember a thread about bands that built a big reputation on what, upon inspection, was not much output. I’m pretty sure we discussed The Who and CCR in that regard. But did The Band ever come up? It must have. You’ve got the shadowy legend with Ronnie Hawkins (getting more tail than Sinatra) and the real legend as Dylan went electric (“Judas”) and then you had, what, 2-3 albums as The Band?
Man, but what a couple albums they were!
I saw Levon play about 5-1/2 years ago. He had a great band and the show was excellent. They played a mix of Band tunes (including “Ophelia” with a tuba!) and the bar band songs you mentioned.
What made the show more than anything else was Levon’s sheer enthusiasm. He was absolutely enjoying every minute of his latter-day comeback. His singing voice wasn’t what it once was, but it was fine, and though he looked frail, there wasn’t a thing about his performance that wasn’t absolutely inspiring.
I’ve said this before – the Band had two essential studio albums: Music from Big Pink and The Band, though I’ll throw in Stage Fright as a worthy runner-up. As for live Band, my pick is Rock of Ages over the good but somewhat overrated The Last Waltz.
Sorry to hear about Levon, but sadly we’re all getting to the point that more and more of our rock heroes are fading away.
One of the most memorable shows I ever went to was the reconstituted early 90s version The Band that played a free concert at Taste of DC in Washington.
Sure Rick Danko had gained a few pounds, but they sounded great. Seeing Levon, of course, was the highlight. At the time, I was really anti-classic rock — almost militant about avoiding it all costs — but that show really changed my attitude.
I also saw Al Green at Taste of DC once, too — those street festivals were really great and brought all areas of the city together. Marion Barry could throw a good party, I’ll give him that!
I’ll second that comment from Scott and mention that Levon’s enthusiasm was remarkably infectious. The show I saw at the Factory had all sorts of heaveyweights along for the ride, Donald Fagen, Larry Campbell, Steve Bernstein in the horn section, and there was no whiff of the mercenary charade to which it might have descended. They seemed to be enjoying playing at least as much as getting paid.
Saw Levon at a tiny Philly club in the mid 90s (Silk City) with a shockingly ordinary 4 piece blues band. They didn’t play any Band songs, and Levon didn’t do any of the singing. I think his throat was still recovering. There was hardly anyone there, and the whole thing was less depressing as it was just perplexing. Maybe like seeing Andy Kaufmann working as a busboy after he’d already become famous. I kept thinking “why is Levon here doing this?” I’m glad he did regain a good amount of his mojo after that weird period.
Even though it’s quite common, I’m always a little sad when band members end up being so bitter towards each other after they break up. Really breaks the mythos of what I think a great band is. The Band seemed like a band of brothers, but certainly not by what you heard from Levon.
This from 2009 is good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcgxuGiI7wU
I think I played that show with Rich Kauffman. Jon Kelsey, our drummer, went out to say hello to Levon who stayed in the van instead of sitting in the club. Jon later noted the pungent aroma that emanated from the vehicle when Levon rolled down the window to chat.
I liked Levon’s book but there was definitely a bitterness. Basically Levon felt that Robertson was a little too casual about disbanding the group after they had provided so much magic to make his song catalog valuable. It left Robertson with a pretty steady income while the other “working” members were left unemployed. I understand Robertson’s point of view that bad things were sure to happen if they kept at it because Manuel was already on a real downward slide with his voice fried before they broke up. Of course, his jumping ship didn’t stop those bad things from happening.
One of the really interesting things in the book was that when the group took a hiatus for a year or two after the Rock of Ages show, Levon enrolled in the Berklee School of Music to work on his chops.
The Healing?
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2012/apr/19/robbie-robertson-levon-helm?newsfeed=true
Some part of me hope there was no reconciliation on Levon’s part. So many rock & roll feuds end up with a happy ending (cf. David Lee Roth and Van Halen currently on tour). It ruins my faith in the dark side of humanity. I hope Levon, in the words of Sinatra in From Here To Eternity, “spit in his face, Prew,..spit in his face” (if I have the quote right).
It’s official now – Levon Helm has died. RIP.
http://www.cnn.com/2012/04/19/showbiz/obit-levon-helm/index.html?hpt=hp_t1
NOTE TO SELF: Don’t ever cross Al.
This seems appropriate…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VYPsoxpt0BU
Headline: “Robbie Robertson Manages to Make Death of Levon Helm All About Robbie Robertson.” Subhead: “Further reaction from Robertson on Robertson’s response to bandmate’s death pending.”
Exactly! Now, if only Paul McCartney could come forward to claim that he made peace with Levon first.
Sure, Mr. Mod, but me you mocked!
Seriously, though, I’m on this email list from the New York Times. Morning headlines and evening headlines and also “breaking news”. I was surprised yesterday when there was such a breaking news email about Levon’s death. Rock & roll sure has come a long way.