We’re still shaken up over here at the loss of Levon Helm. As writers, we’re easing our pain by putting our thoughts and memories about The Band drummer and Midnight Ramble host down “on paper.” Last night HT founder Slade Sohmer eulogized Helm for our Love For Levon series which continues now with essays from three of our contributors.
Levon Helm had one of the most comforting voices in classic American music. Alongside John Lennon, Levon’s old buddy Bob Dylan, and Aretha Franklin, his raspy, genuine, soul-filled voice is easily recognized and instantly soothing. As a child, I would listen to The Band’s Greatest Hits album over and over, belting out The Weight until I got the solo version of the “and, and, and…” chorus to sound exactly like all five of them.
[All Photos by Chad Anderson]
In college, I wrote an entire paper breaking down why The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down was the best song ever written, and behind pretty much every reasoning stood The Band’s solid and strong drummer. I started to realize that Levon was at the core of all of my favorite songs, that he was the voice of this sound that defined music for me, and upon understanding just how influential this one artist had been on me, I had found my first truly favorite band.
Once I watched The Last Waltz, I was fully sucked into the past of The Band. There’s no YouTube clip of it, but my favorite scene is where Scorsese is talking to Levon and Robbie about their first time in New York City. The smile that comes across Levon’s face when he speaks about the whirlwind of Manhattan was the first thing I saw when I finally caught him live, and that joyful, innocent face will be burned in my memory for the rest of time. Rest in Peace, Levon. You were so deeply loved.
This was the last time I saw my musical hero, but this moment will live on in my heart forever.
PAGE 2 = Dan Alford PAGE 3 = Chad Anderson
I first saw Levon play in the summer of 1991 at the Berkshire Performing Arts Center, a little, out of the way theater in Lenox, Mass. with great acoustics and a very chill atmosphere. I had begun listening to The Band as part of my classic rock education, and since I had received a greatest hits cassette for Christmas, they had become a staple of my musical diet.
I convinced my buddy Jay to come with me to the gig. He wasn’t a big fan but was usually up for doing something, and besides, we were going to see Phish with the Giant Country Horns at the same venue the following night (it would be my first Phish show; my hundredth is coming up this summer). We sat down for a song or two–it was a seated crowd–but I’m pretty sure it was Ophelia that made me turn to Jay and proclaim, “I gotta dance!” I jumped up and joined a couple fellow freaks in the back of the room. Having no real perspective, I was pleasantly surprised that they played a number of
tunes I had never heard on the local classic rock channels but knew from my cassette. I was especially choked up with It Makes No Difference, which was the soundtrack to that summer’s unrequited love. I was also psyched to hear them bust into The Beatles’ Get Back.
It wasn’t too long before Jay joined me, and by the end of the show the whole place was hopping. I remember that the power kept giving out on Garth’s organ and he missed only half a beat each time, lurching out of his black, leather office recliner and shouldering his accordion to continue the groove. It was a seminal night in my 17-year-old life. The music was more rowdy and rambunctious that I imagined it would be, and utterly alive. The next night I was chatting with a guy before the show and he asked if I had gone the night before. I started gushing and talking about how hard I had danced, how elated I was, never even considering that Phish had played in New Hampshire. When
it became clear that we were talking about different gigs, he slipped away and I was sure he had missed out on the real show. I still am.
I also caught The Band the night before Garcia died in Central Park. The earliest version Ratdog opened (or do I have the bill switched?), with Bobby, Rob and Jay as a trio, really just an enhanced Scaring the Children. It was a hazy night at best and don’t remember much, other than Bobby getting down on one knee during Throwing Stones, and Rick Danko bouncing all over the stage. I remember thinking if Danko and John Popper had been on the same stage, they would have belly bumped each other off, which struck me as hilarious at the time, and still makes me grin. I also remember being shepherded through the crowd to get to the far beer tent, and really just wanting to stay where I was and get down with The Band. The next morning my brother called to ask how I was, and when I told him about the show, he said, “Oh man. You don’t know, do you?”
A couple days later I left for India with a select stash of Grateful Dead, Phish and The Band’s The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down: Live in Concert, in tow. That album, which was a cassette I grabbed on a whim from a bargain bin in Albany, was really just a selection of material from Rock of Ages, but became a real desert island listen for me, something that was always in the car, something that I put on when I wanted to trump any headier than thou conversation–that Don’t Do It is easily one of the greatest single performances ever recorded, and shut everyone up with its bad ass backbeat. As a teenager, I spent many many many hours driving in my car with my then girlfriend, now wife, with no destination in mind other than a great ride with a great soundtrack. Any number of Dead shows filled that spot, but that Dixie Down tape was always a constant. Somewhere along the way, I became aware that the music of The Band was good for my soul.
In recent years, I had the pleasure to see Levon Ramble and Ramble on the Road a number of times, at The Barn, The Beacon, festival sets and opening for Phil and Friends. The warmth and love that came from that band every single time, even when its membership fluctuated, was something to not just witness but to bear witness to, especially if that roots vibe makes sense to you, if The Band is at your roots. The one gig I saw at The Barn was special, of course, but my favorite single set was a random free show in the middle of Stamford on a Saturday night. There was something about the lazy weekend feeling suddenly tuned with an electric buzz, the families gathered around, the sense that somehow the music made that weird, open, impromptu venue into everyone’s personal living room where a collection of friends had gathered to share songs… It was a great night. I’ll miss Levon so much, his music and spirit.
How many times have I lamented the deaths of Richard and Rick, so saddened by the idea that had they persevered, they too could have joined in the veneration that he enjoyed in these last years, the respect and accolades and elegant, simple regality accorded to him that he so richly enjoyed. I’m so glad he had that. I wish I knew the exact words of the dedication at the back The Barn so I could appropriately add Levon’s name to those of his friends, knowing that though he’s passed now, the world is better place for his being here.
PAGE 3 = Chad Anderson
I remember the first time I got see Levon on December 16th, 2006 as a birthday present at his house in Woodstock thanks to my brother. Levon came out with the band and as I stood there by the beam, Levon pointed at me at me while I ate popcorn ( I still have the bag), winked and smiled and till this day I have never felt cooler than that moment in time.
Working all day yesterday and then getting home and finally being able to post this photo made me feel so sad, but I love this image of how happy he looked in doing something that brought him so much joy – playing for his fans. If history is said to repeat itself, then our parents’ generation remembers the day the music died…well our generation has now come to now know what that feeling is like.
Friends have told me they really never listened to The Band until the past few days. They don’t realize what they have missed out on and I can’t be more happier and sad knowing I was able to see Levon a handful of times from nights he welcomed me into his house/studio for Midnight Ramble and performances at the Beacon Theatre or this past summer seeing him for the last time at the Gathering of the Vibes. It breaks my heart knowing now I will never see this man ever walk out on stage again with a smile that stretched cheek to cheek and the charisma of what a man should be.
Some say that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone…well the music world has lost its rhythm and its beat. Levon has touched so many with his story and his songs that his life will never be forgotten and for me, Levon will be greatly missed. THANK YOU for the memories I will never forget!
Comments
Loading comments...
Leave a Comment