The Band lifts 'The Weight' of a workday

Rick Danko, Levon Helm, Richard Manuel,
Garth Hudson, Robbie Robertson, 1968 (Photo © by Elliott Land)

I didn't expect to work today. Such is life in the depo biz, especially after the holidays.

The computer that died is heading to the computer hospital or somewhere, and I came home yesterday with another machine to use.

All seemed to work fine from last night into today when I got word that there was an opening for a job, and it was time to make sure everything really worked.

So, after a job well done (I'd like to think so), I turned my attention to "Doubleheader" (aka #The4pmBreak). Never content to do things the easy way, I changed ye olde studio again.

I'm happy -- for the moment. It will change again but, for now, I'm happy to have downsized slightly and repositioned where things are. 

I threw some music on, enjoying my most recent purchases. You might recall I recently purchased George Harrison's All Things Must Pass and an album from a contemporary of his named Paul McCartney, whose McCartney III impresses me more every day.

But every once in a while, I'm reminded that I'm woefully short on the music of The Band. Sure, I've got Music From Big Pink, but I'm missing other key songs.

I'll admit that I am not afraid to "cheat" with greatest hits albums. Many are too highfalutin for such poppycock, but sometimes it's the easiest way to get a sense of a band. It works great when on a limited budget also.

I've argued with myself about buying it. Tonight, I stopped.

"Buy it," Rascal said. Or maybe I said it to myself. 

The Band is Americana, even if Levon Helm was the lone American of the original and (obviously) best lineup. Rick Danko, Garth Hudson, Richard Manuel, and Robbie Robertson (who at least knows how to spell his name correctly) all hail or hailed from Canada.

Originally in Ronnie Hawkins' backing band, The Hawks, the group found themselves tired of playing the same songs night after night while growing more proficient. They split from Hawkins by 1964 and, after initially going it alone, became the backing band for Bob Dylan. They eventually holed up in West Saugerties, NY inside the house known as "Big Pink."

By the way, you can rent the house if you're inclined to hang out where Dylan's Basement Tapes and, of course, Music From Big Pink were recorded.

Soon, they needed a name and, well, they just called themselves The Band. It was as simple as that.

Of course, regardless of their brilliance, the best bands struggle under the weight (bad pun) of their own greatness. By the end of 1976, it was all over, with a legendary farewell concert (and Thanksgiving dinner), The Last Waltz. The concert spawned a live album and a movie, directed by Martin Scorses.

Ego problems (most notably between Robertson and Helm) further damaged things, with Helm believing The Last Waltz was a Robbie Robertson project. But what is also clear is that the music is breathtaking, with a stunning collection of special guests (Joni Mitchell, Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton, Dr. John, Muddy Waters, etc).

That was supposed to mark the end of the touring days but, overall, that was the end of The Band. While they would reform without Robertson, the glory days were over. Richard Manual committed suicide in 1986 and, with Rick Danko's death in 1999, The Band was officially finished.

Each of the five primary members was incredible. Robertson is obviously a special songwriter. But, for me, Levon Helm is a legend. Manuel produced a memorable vocal for "I Shall Be Released" but Helm's voice just drips of his Arkansas upbringing.

Listen to "The Weight" (of course) but "Up On Cripple Creek," "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" and even later works like their version of "Atlantic City" speak to his down-home approach. His voice -- combined with his drumming and attitude -- made him something special.

I'm sorry I never got to experience one of Levon's Midnight Ramble concerts that he held at his barn in Woodstock, NY. The concerts helped raise money for his medical bills after he was diagnosed with throat cancer. Where he initially lost his singing voice, he regained use of it to produce a whole new take on the music he was making at the turn of the 21st Century.

Helm died on April 19, 2012. He was 71.

If you've never embraced The Band beyond "The Weight," I encourage you to give a listen to the music that is steeped in traditions of bluegrass, rock, pop, country, rockabilly, and a lot of other things in the melting pot.