Takes one to know one

Thanks everyone for joining me in celebrating this most unusual and amazing group of writers, singers, and players. I added the joke about Robbie against my better judgment; the subject of his actions is a matter of great contention, and if it weren’t for the fact that they played a major role in the contributing to The Band’s downward spiral (both professionally and personally) I could let it go. I won’t go into it here, but one ends up taking either Levon’s side of the story, or Robbie’s.

I haven’t read Robbie’s book, but I have a copy of Levon’s, autographed by he on the day of it’s release at the book release event held at Book Soup on Sunset Blvd. Ringo was there too, and got his copy autographed as well. In response to the claims made by Levon, John Simon (producer of the first two albums, and writer of the horn arrangements for The Last Waltz), and others, Robbie made this statement: "I did what I had to do." ’Bout says it all, don’t it?

For a member of a successful band/group to go on to have a successful solo career is very rare. A group benefits from the members’ combined talents, no one of them having enough talent on his own to make for a solo career. After The Beatles changed the world, bands/groups were expected to write, sing, and play---three separate talents. Before them, the best songwriters did just that---only. The best singers did that---only. The best players did that---only. In the group dynamic, you didn’t necessarily get all three.

Along comes The Band. Not only were they as good as any group around, but their individual talents were as good as any of the professionals doing only one of the above. Richard Manuel was as good a singer as any solo artist, Levon Helm as good a drummer as the guys in the L.A., New York, Memphis, and Nashville studios, Rick Danko a brilliant bass player, Robbie Robertson a very tasteful song-part guitar player, and Garth Hudson maybe the best keyboardist in the history of Rock ’n’ Roll.

After hearing Levon’s drumming, Ringo sounded flat-footed (compare his playing in The Last Waltz to that of Levon’s). After hearing Richard Manuel sing, John Lennon sounded weak and thin, McCartney lacking gravitas. Paul sounded almost like an average bass player after hearing Rick Danko’s inventive style. Rick Danko, a farm boy from Canada, was as good as the best in the world---James Jamerson, Motown’s bass player. By the time of the Band’s debut, The Beatles writing had lost it’s "magic". For me, anyway.

The Band had raised the bar so high, they were so brilliant in every way, that I now found the mediocrity in most other groups to be killing my interest in them. I now looked for songs written by the "best" songwriters, singing by the best singers, and playing by the best musicians (by that I mean those who were the best ensemble players, not virtuosos). Funny, for me it was now back to how it was before The Beatles. They had changed everything---no more producer putting a singer in a studio to record a song written by a pro writer and played by studio musicians. Except now, it was the vision of the solo songwriter/singer, not the producer, I was interested in.

And so it has remained all these years. I seek out music by the best songwriters, sung in the "best" way (best having nothing to do with range, pitch control, etc.), and accompanied by the best musicians. All my current music acquisitions are albums by solo artists, not groups. My favorite songwriters are rarely a member of a group/band, my favorite singers rarely in a group/band. If the songwriter and/or singer in a group was a "better" writer or singer, he wouldn’t need to be in a group. Ironically, all the result of The Band---the ultimate group!

@onhwy61, I agree about a band sharing songwriting credits, even though it’s a rather Communist idea ;-). The Ramones did it, I’m sure there are others.

Levon Helm’s argument was that the instrumental parts he and the others created for The Band’s songs, and his and the other’s ideas for arrangements (listen to the out-takes of their albums to hear how the songs developed and changed in the studio) were just as much a part of the song as were the chords and melody. Levon’s drum parts are chock full of signature "hooks", parts without which the songs were incomplete.

I don’t begrudge Robertson being a business man; more power to him. What I do find objectionable is the way he deliberately mislead and manipulated both the other members of The Band and John Simon, producer of the first two Band albums. Robertson came to Simon and asked him to write charts for the horn section The Band wanted for The Last Waltz. Simon hadn’t received a royalty check from Capitol Records for years, and told Robbie he was not doing any more work for which he would receive no compensation. Robertson said he would look into the matter, and came back to John with an offer: if he agreed to forfeit all future royalties from the sale of the two Band albums he produced, Capitol would pay all past royalties due him. Simon balked at that idea, but Robbie, according to John, told him that he would make a lot more money from The Last Waltz album and movie than he would from future sales of the first two Band albums. John said okay.

What John and the other members of The Band didn’t know was that Robbie was signing agreements with the company that was financing the movie, agreements making Robbie an executive producer of movie. All the producers made money off the top of the movie’s grosses, The Band members and John Simon off the net. After all production costs, advertising, etc., there was very little left. Robertson ended up making a small fortune off the movie, John Simon and The Band a pittance. Robbie KNEW that would be the case, and knowingly tricked, manipulated, John Simon into signing away his future royalties for what he, Robertson, knew would be very little. All to make himself as much money as possible, at the cost of Simon and The Band. When Robbie said "I did what I had to do", he is admitting as much.

@jond, isn’t "It Makes No Difference" as beautiful a song as you’ve ever heard?! I love Rick’s voice, it’s so unique. I love how he sang "Long Black Veil---a Lefty Frizzell song (Rick loved Country music)---on Music From Big Pink. As were Levon’s and Richard’s. Three lead singers! The way their voiced weave in and out amongst each others, trading verses, even lines. In The Last Waltz, Robbie cited The Staple Singers as their model for how to arrange vocals. The three singers did that, not Robbie.

The Band’s roots were SO deep; Hillbilly, Country, Cajun, Blues, Rock ’n’ Roll, Gospel, Pop, Jazz, Classical (Garth was a trained musician). The five members had been playing together as an ensemble for eight years before making their first album. Most bands whole lifespan is less than that! And they were all multi-instrumentalists. Levon played not only drums, but guitar, mandolin, and harmonica. Rick bass, guitar, and tuba. Richard was a FANTASTIC drummer, almost as good as Levon. And Garth Hudson, the most unlikely person to join a Rock ’n’ Roll Band, played all keyboards, as well as sax. Robbie was (I guess still is) a wonderful guitarist. Can’t sing worth a damn, though.

Robbie KNEW that would be the case, and knowingly tricked, manipulated, John Simon into signing away his future royalties for what he, Robertson, knew would be very little.

Robbie didn't withhold John Simon's royalty payments, Capitol Records did. It's amazing how often that happens in the music business. When The Dixie Chicks had the number one album in the world, they weren't receiving their checks from Sony. Their lawyer was told in essence "We don't pay royalties. If you want your money, you'll have to sue us to get it." So they did, and got a real nice settlement, including their own boutique label. Bands that don't have the money to fight their record company get screwed ALL THE TIME. What you don't expect, is to get screwed by another artist.

John Simon hadn't seen the guys since he had done the brown album with them, seven years before The Last Waltz. He had no idea what Robertson had been doing in regards to songwriting credits, etc. Lawyers are expensive (no duh), and guys like John Simon, on the fringes of the music business, don't have a need for or the means to pay one. Guys like Robertson, savvy and selfish, know how to pull a con (a real good one can even get himself elected President of The United States ;-). It's easy to fault John Simon for letting Robbie take advantage of his naivete', but John had no reason to suspect he was being set up.

Lawyers are expensive

I think that the way music appeals to each person will always be a mystery. I remember The Band since the beginning, and I was never moved by their music, or looked at it as much more than well done and competent. Still, over the years, whenever someone brings them up, like this thread, I go back again, this time to the recommended links near the beginning of this thread, and listen carefully. I just can't feel what others are feeling in this music. Conversely, there is music that I am deeply attached to that leaves people that I am close to cold.

That is a mystery to me.   

Good points, one and all. onhwy61, all The Band albums are quality, but the first two get all the attention because they were so revolutionary and ground-breaking. Plus, they had no filler songs---it was all Grade A material. The last album had only eight songs, four per LP side---not a good sign from a band known, in the age of overly-long jam songs, for short, concise songs. There were some great songs on it, but some not-so-great. Some of them just meandered on, filling space.

They did a fun album of the material they had played in their Bar Band days---Moondog Matinee, all 1950’s-type songs. And a great live album, plus one when they accompanied Dylan on the road in ’74. The 3rd and 4th have some fantastic songs---Richard’s duet with Van Morrison on "4% Pantomime" kills.

But Richard was developing a drinking problem, and was finding himself unable to write anymore. Levon was harboring a lot of resentment towards Robbie, which affected band morale. Robbie’s lyrics were becoming self-conscious and calculated, and, just like The Beatles, it felt like they went on past their "sell by" date; it felt like the wind was no longer in their sails, they were just going through the motions. They sounded tired, which they may have been---Garth was over 40 years old, the others not much younger. Rock ’n’ Roll is a young man’s game. I’m just thankful they’re not up there making fools of themselves as are Mick and Keith ;-).

They sure left a legacy, didn’t they? All the people in the Americana movement and scene acknowledge The Band as their model for how to make music. All my favorite writers, singers, and musicians work in The Band’s shadow, benefitting from their excellence. Nick Lowe said his band Brinsley Schwartz was an attempt---a poor one, in his opinion---to be England’s The Band. Neil Young’s Harvest album was an obvious attempt to make an album like The Band’s 2nd/Brown album. You also hear The Band in Workingman’s Dead; problem was, nobody in The Dead could sing!

Great post, @tostadosunidos. I met Levon only once, at his book signing. He was the last man on Earth who would have "gotten above his raisin'". I saw him with his own band at The House Of Blues after his throat surgery (for the cancer---he was a heavy smoker---which eventually killed him), unable to sing. He had his daughter on stage with him, and she's a fine singer herself.

You got to play with Rick Danko! I'm green with envy. There is a girl doing a "Friends Of Rick Danko" Facebook page, and a guy doing one for Richard. They both are posting all kinds of pictures and videos, really cool stuff.

I still love Stagefright but it is a slightly flawed album with some wonderful songs(All the Glory for instance) and some less so.

I've lifted an article some of you may have read and some may not have. Cheers.

The Band delivered a classic with their self-titled second album in 1969 — but almost as quickly as they found their groove, they started falling apart. The fissures in the Band were evident with their third record, Stage Fright.

Released Aug. 17, 1970, it retained the rough-hewn sound of its predecessor while continuing to highlight the group's virtuosity — each member played at least two instruments on the album — and adding a bit more of a rock feel than they had on The Band. But it was hard to miss the sense of darkness that loomed over the record as a whole — and hard not to miss the once-plentiful vocal harmonies that seemed to be less of a focus in the new songs' arrangements.

Part of the change might have been a function of time, or lack thereof. As drummer Levon Helm explained to Hit Parader, their relatively leisurely pace while recording The Band may have produced a more fully realized album, but it also left a painful financial sting. "When you've had two records and you still can't pay your bills...you get to figure something ain't quite right," he pointed out. "Doing it the other way costs so much money."

To avoid ending up in the hole again, the group decided to record their next album at the intimate Woodstock Playhouse in upstate New York. Initial plans called for it to be tracked as a true live album, in front of an audience, but as soon as word got out that the Band would be putting on an exclusive show, demand for tickets so far exceeded supply that they decided to do it in front of an empty theater.

While plans for Stage Fright were coming together, the bonds between the Band members were being tested by a number of complicating factors, including the growing issue of songwriting credits. In his memoir This Wheel's on Fire, Helm recalls being shocked by the liner notes of The Band, realizing that guitarist Robbie Robertson had claimed sole authorship of most of the record — and although Helm admitted to being assuaged by assurances that the royalty imbalance would all be taken care of in the end, the creative tension in the group would only worsen over time.

"The level of the group's collaboration declined," Helm observed, "and our creative process was severely disrupted. [...] Who wanted to pour out their souls and not get credit? [Richard Manuel] stopped writing completely after awhile, and I don't think [Garth Hudson] got much credit at all until some of the final records."

But even if creative issues hadn't eroded the Band's camaraderie, there's a good chance they still might have been undone by a far less obvious culprit: their own sudden success. After spending years backing up Ronnie Hawkins and Bob Dylan, they hit the Top 30 with their 1968 debut, Music From Big Pink, and then leapfrogged into the Top 10 with The Band. Their lives — and their habits — quickly changed.

"If you’ve never made a million dollars overnight, like we did, you have no concept of what it can do. We saw it ruin people — kill them! Suddenly we had all the money we needed, and people were falling over themselves to make us happy, which meant giving us all the dope we could stand," recalled Rick Danko in This Wheel's On Fire. "People wanted to turn us on for free, do us favors, and some of us were happy to be taken care of like that. There wasn’t anything real dramatic about it, because it was a fact of life, and probably still is. I’m here to tell you that it’s a crying shame to see what success can do to some people. I’m sure it wasn’t the best thing that could have happened to the band."

"Mentally, healthwise, success was not the best thing for the Band," Robertson told Musician. "It confused people. It brought out where people were striving or pushing. The inspirational factor had been dampened, tampered with in a certain kind of way. The curiosity wasn't as strong. We didn't compensate for it, we didn't try. We just did what we did and, rather than it being a consistent thing for a period or something, it was not the center anymore."

"The drugs were just part of the dark mood that settled upon us," countered Helm. "There were also the issues of artistic control of the Band the direction we were going in — if any."

Compounding all these issues was the pressing need for product. Per the usual custom of the day, Stage Fright arrived hot on the heels of The Band — less than a year after its predecessor. Even taking into account its purposely abbreviated recording time, Fright was a record that Helm, for one, believed would have benefited from more time. Perhaps as an indication of its speedy gestation, the album was actually give a pair of parallel mixes — one by Glyn Johns, whose work made the final cut, and one by a young Todd Rundgren.

Stage Fright wasn't critically savaged, but the reviews weren't as overflowing with praise as they'd been for The Band. "Glory is the operative word at this stage of the game," wrote John Burks for Rolling Stone. "What this third Band record seems to lack is the glory of the first two." That lukewarm response didn't deter fans, however; even without a strong single to propel sales, Fright peaked at a career-best No. 5 and went gold.

The record's success couldn't salve the fractures between the members of the Band, however, and subsequent efforts found their creative dynamic slowly leaking out as they retreated to separate spheres — a state summed up by the title of their final studio effort, 1977's contract-fulfilling Islands. While they'd only improve as a live act over the decade to follow — achieving a transcendency later captured in The Last Waltz — Stage Fright sounded a warning that no one in the group was able or willing to heed.

"It was a dark album," Helm observed in his book. "And an accurate reflection of our group's collective psychic weather. ... We all realized something was wrong, that things were beginning to slide."