As true as the love that dies untold
But the clouds never hung so low before
Sometimes when I let my
imagination rove I picture my dad running across a Montana wheat field, dark
brown dirt under his fingernails, hair tousled, and long summer days where the only
rule his parents laid out was, “Be home by dark.” In summers, in Montana,
darkness came closer to midnight than regular dinner time hours. I imagine as
the long day wound down, my dad sitting down next to a small fire, Montana
cowboys and sheepherders telling stories, smoking cigarettes, and singing
songs. And I’m sure their voices
cracked and sang off tune, and maybe the songs were traditional and passed down
from generation to generation and may have sounded not unlike the music I grew
up with. My imagination gets carried away and has a soundtrack too.
Album: Northern
Lights, Southern Cross.
Song: “It Makes No Difference”
On the FM stations I tuned into in 1976 "It Makes No
Difference" just sort of eased into my consciousness such that when I
really started to appreciate The Band via The Band's The Best of the Band,
I knew the song though it certainly took on greater weight as I got older. The
song, though penned by the guitarist, Robbie Robertson, is sung by the bassist,
Rick Danko. It's clearly a blues tune and Danko's pathos laden croon works to
show that he is clearly in love, almost obsessed, with the person he is singing
about. Now one particular verse keeps running over and over in my head and in
my memory I keep changing the words to give it a more sinister, darker
turn. I keep changing the 3rd
line to, “Just to keep myself from killing you.” Then I immediately
change it to, “Just to keep myself from calling you,” cause I know it is
most definitely not killing. So why, in my mind, does it morph to some
sort of Shakespearian line? Does
the delivery of the song transform the innocuous lyrics into something else?
All songs are more than the
arrangement of lyrics on the page. The delivery is instrumental in making the
song work. And that’s also the puzzle of The Band. Even though most of their
most well known tunes are penned by Robbie Robertson, The Band's particular
versions are clearly the definitive versions even though many of their songs
have been widely covered (“The Weight” has at least 66 different covers).
Album: This Girl's In Love With You
That's
Aretha Franklin's take on the popular Band tune.
Just a little research and I'm swept away and reading clips about
people's different interpretations, old reviews, listening to other songs,
watching YouTube clips, and immersing myself in the story of The Band.
Initially, The Band was the backup band for Ronnie Hawkins. They left
him and after trying different configurations (Levon and the Hawks, the
Squires), 4 of the band members: Rick
Danko, Robbie Robertson, Richard Manuel, and Garth Hudson joined Bob Dylan on
his infamous tour of England where he went “electric.” From there they moved
into a house down the road from Dylan (now recovering from the
motorcycle wreck) in Woodstock. There Levon Helm joins them again, and they
simply become The Band.
As The Band they release a couple of critically acclaimed
records: Music from the Big Pink
and the eponymous The Band. Suddenly they were successful in their own
right, and they started touring, playing bigger gigs, releasing more albums. Ultimately
this configuration of The Band went on to release 7 albums before it “broke up”
(sort of documented on Martin Scorcese’s The Last Waltz).
Though The Band did reform and release several other studio albums
they no longer played with their original songwriter and guitarist, Robbie
Robertson.
Now this is where it gets
complicated and controversial. Including
a few covers, most of The Band’s well known songs: (“The Weight, The Night They
Drove Old Dixie Down, It Makes No Difference, The Shape I’m In,” etc.) are
credited (all or in part) to Robbie Robertson as the composer.
In copyright law, there is a distinction between Composer and
Performer. Being credited as the composer means that when somebody covers any
of the above tunes Robertson gets a cut. Yet, the other 4 members of The Band
only get a cut when the songs they performed on are played (via radio, etc).
Robbie Robertson was the guitar player too so he actually gets paid again then
as well. So, upon reading about The Band, it doesn’t take long for stories
about the friction in The Band to begin to surface.
And the friction seems to be all about money, though it could also be
about ego or perhaps something even larger, something I'll label as the nature
and source of art itself. For example, some research suggests that the friction
was because Robertson was making more money than the rest of them and depending
on who you read you hear statements like, “Robertson took credit for the songs
that were actually written collaboratively” or “While the song appeared to be
written collaboratively, Robertson wrote the melody and the lyrics and the rest
of The Band merely aided in the arrangement so they are not the composer and
thus don’t deserve composer royalties.”
And a lot of the music is covered by a lot of different people, so
Robertson is clearly making lots more than the other four. In thinking about this, I can't help but
ponder about what happens when you become successful. Part of what I'm thinking
is metaphorically related in their name. They are simply known as "The
Band." In understanding the history, up until getting signed they were
just the backup band for Ronnie Hawkins and then Bob Dylan. One could imagine
that they really didn't have a very firm grasp of the business arrangements and
what it could mean. They were the backup band and they got paid as a backup
band. Then they get signed and suddenly
they were creating original tunes not just playing what Hawkins or Dylan told
them to. Thus, I could imagine that The Band just didn't get the business side
of it very well. And I could imagine
that having to talk about the business side was not something they were very
comfortable with and relied upon the manager to sort of guide them in this
process. Who wants to talk about licensing and royalties? And what if you
didn’t know that even some of the lesser known works would be covered too?
Song: “Acadian Driftwood” (with Celine Dion)
That's
Zachary Richard's cover of "Acadian Driftwood," and he catches the
sort homespun magic, bringing the stories of drifters, immigrants, displaced
families to life that provided fodder for Robertson's pen. But that is only one part of the story.
When you watch Martin Scorcese's The Last Waltz, (a concert movie about The Band) one
can’t help but notice a couple of things:
1) Robbie Robertson gets the lion share of screen time, and 2) Richard
Manuel and Rick Danko appear messed up for most of the film. The show is billed
as the final concert of The Band and with just a little digging it becomes
pretty obvious that it is Robbie Robertson’s final show with The Band. As
Steven Severn has stated in an article in Film Quarterly:
But now, it is
impossible to see this as a work "about" The Band. Without question,
its subject is Robbie Robertson, and it clearly seeks to elevate him above the
other members of the group. While the
rest of the group does give background information, it is Robbie who provides
the details and paints a picture of them splitting up” (26).
There are a
lot of stories about why. Is it the
money? Is it that Robertson got and took too much credit? Is it life on the
road? In a 2011 interview, George
Stroumboulopoulos asks
Robertson point blank about his role in The Band's break-up, and Robertson
states that it was just supposed to be a break; it was just supposed to be a
time where everyone went on and did their own thing and then would come back
and work on some stuff together but no one came back together. And it’s not
hard to see why: Richard Manuel was a
drunk; Levon Helm was bitter; Rick Danko was interested in pursuing a solo
career; and Garth Hudson seemed to be holding his cards pretty close to his
chest, stoic and answering Scorcese's questions but not really volunteering
much information. As for Robbie Robertson he was developing a very fruitful
relationship with Martin Scorcese and producing work for others.
In the ‘80’s The Band, without Robbie Robertson reformed, and begin
touring until Richard Manuel committed
suicide in 1986 . Without Manuel
and Robertson, The Band released Jericho in 1993. They finally called it
quits as a band in 1999.
Robbie Robertson’s career moved
in a different direction as well: some
acting, some soundtrack work, solo work, and some very high profile guest shots
on Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremonies with Eric Clapton and
Creedence Clearwater Revival for example.
Yet this recounting of the
history doesn’t explain why this song, “It Makes No Difference” or why The Band
(the incarnation from The Last Waltz) has fascinated me so. I listen to
The Band constantly, occasionally listen to Jericho and have fond
memories of Robbie Robertson’s Storyville as my diving deeper into the
music of The Band.
In '87, I was drawn to the
track, "Fallen Angel."
I buy a lot of
music, and remember buying the CD but not being particularly impressed. I liked "Fallen Angel," but really
only listened to the album a few times. When his next album, Storyville,
came out in '91, I don’t why I bought it, but I loved it. I listened to the
album all the time. And with this new appreciation started really listening to
The Band, buying their album (without Robertson) in '93 when it came out. Now, I have The Band's first three releases,
four of Robbie Robertson's solo releases, one of The Band's (without Robbie
Robertson) releases, and a solo release from Levon Helm. I listen to them all
the time. And I've watched The Last Waltz numerous times even lamenting
that I was going to miss it when our art house cinema was showing it while I
was out of town.
Am I drawn to them because they
are better than they individually could be? Maybe the reason they never got
back together as Robertson characterized it was that they didn’t want to work
his way? Helm, Danko, Manuel, and
Hudson just wanted to play, be the center of the party, and Robertson (tired of
the road) wanted to retire to the studio and put out perfectly crafted tunes.
But putting on a show is part and
parcel of what a rock band is. The music that is celebrated, perhaps even
revived by The Band, was largely not written down. It was the music of
collective experience, created by a people who didn't have access to education
and learning musical notation. And this
is quite often reflected in the subject matter. When Robertson voices the tune
of the downtrodden Confederate soldier and their having to return to their
lives in the war ravaged south in "The Night They Drove Old Dixie
Down," he's not only relating a history lesson, he's also voicing their
experience. And their experience is not
an experience that would be celebrated or documented in music other than the
music that has its roots in the folk tradition. So Robertson's songs are
dependent upon the delivery. And sharing them, even if it has all the trappings
of a rock concert, is how the songs are meant to be transmitted.
It's one thing to see the words
on the page, hum the melody, but when you hear Levon embody, "Virgil Cain
is the name and I served on the Danville train," you hear tradition, folk
melodies, someone who has a personal connection to the tune. The song sounds
like a "common" person wrote it and almost anyone can sing it. As Rolling Stone critic Ralph Gleason says, "Nothing
I have read … has brought home the overwhelming human sense of history that
this song does...It's a remarkable song, the rhythmic structure, the voice of
Levon and the bass line with the drum accents and then the heavy close harmony
of Levon, Richard and Rick in the theme, make it seem impossible that
this isn't some traditional material handed down from father to son
straight from that winter of 1865 to today. It has that ring of truth and the
whole aura of authenticity." No one does it better than Levon Helm.
Song: “The Night
They Drove Old Dixie Down”
I admit
that Helm’s voice sends chills down my spine when I listen, yet I also admire
that there is a story and the rhymes are surpising. Yet, the song clearly relies on Helm to make
it work. Even Robertson recognized this
stating, "I'm convinced now, as
I was then, that nobody in the world could sing and play the songs that I wrote
with as much believability and soulfulness as they have." Then why not include the other
members as writers then? That's a good question and I suspect that Robertson
felt that he didn't get enough credit. He didn't sing and as others have
remarked, "Why should he? He's got
Danko, Manuel, and Helm at his disposable and they are better singers than
him." They made it believable and
soulful, which brings up Levon Helm.
Levon Helm is the only band
member who is not Canadian, and he comes from the South. So my guess is that
people assumed that Levon wrote "The Night They Drove Old Dixie
Down," and there are some comments that suggest that Robertson was just
crafting stories that Helm told into songs. There is no evidence, however, that
Robertson did this. Helm never claims that the songs are his repackaged
stories. Yet Dana Stevens says, "Helm specialized in storytelling songs, the kind that
sketch out not just situations but full-blown characters" . But Robertson "knew"
the songs were his.
Can you fault him if he
understood each members’ respective talents and let them use it? But their contribution is to the one time
delivery but certainly not their's to sell. So Robertson got the credit where
this society says it matters: the money.
He got the money. And I bet no one knew how much that was until they'd grown
accustomed to it and it stopped flowing because The Band's version wasn't
selling, but there were cover versions getting airplay but only one person saw
that money: Robbie Robertson.
Yet, there’s
a new wrinkle to this song in particular that I’d be remiss if I didn’t touch
on. Many people are troubled by the voice in the song being a Confederate soldier
and lamenting about the Confederacy’s loss in the Civil War. Should we feel sorry for him? Is this song a
celebration of the loss of a way of life; a way of life that depended upon the enslavement
of others? In August of 2020, country
and western singer, Early Jamesm rewrote some of the lyrics to celebrate the
loss of the Confederacy not lament it.
Of course
to suggest that the song laments that loss is to tragically misunderstand
it. Jack Hamilton’s article in Slate, The
Troublesome Case of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” suggests that
James is misunderstanding the song. The
song released in 1969 is really about America’s eventual loss in Vietnam, and
the song is really an anti-war song.
That a bunch of yahoos have latched onto it as an anthem to celebrate the
“lost cause” and to change the lyrics as a result is to fall into their
trap. Yet, people do interpret the song
that way. So should artists covering the
song feel justified in changing the lyrics?
I don’t’
think so. I’m fine if he’d given a
disclaimer before performing, but it’s a cultural artifact that needs to be
understood within the context of its original creation. If we were to go back
through every work of art and make it fit our current proclivities we’d not
really be celebrating our culture and history.
Our culture and history is ugly and while I certainly think we should
point out those instances, we can still acknowledge that’s where we came
from. So leave it alone.
And understanding the Band’s story
is also about understanding what it was like to be a rock star in the early ‘70s.
In the early ‘70s being a rock star meant a lot of things besides having an
opportunity to make a lot of money; it also meant that quite often you were the
center of everyone’s party.
That seems
to be where Richard Manuel wanted to be. Many stories and comments talk about
how Manuel was the "real" singer in the band; the guy the women
swooned over; the one with the most range and soulfulness. He also, apparently,
liked to party. In Scorcese's The Last Waltz, Manuel, at times, seems
messed up, almost slurring his words. In one scene he's actually curled up on
the couch in a near fetal position looking up at the camera as if he is a small
child. There are stories that Robertson's composition, "The Shape I'm
In," is based on Manuel. He liked to party and clearly was addicted to
alcohol. If you don't believe Robertson's assertion in the movie that the road
was going to kill The Band, it was clearly (by implication) going to kill
Manuel.
Manuel need to get off the road.
He had a drinking problem and killed himself in 1986 on the road.
So how do you stay sober in a
situation like this? Who wants to
exercise that much self control? Being
creative is not always fun, but partying, by definition, is.
So the final person from The
Band, Garth Hudson, represents the higher calling in art. Garth Hudson was by
most estimations the real musician in The Band. After The Last Waltz, he
became an in demand session player, and he's clearly versatile with a lot of
varied instruments (from saxophone to accordion to organ). If creativity is
ultimately the goal, than who cares who gets credit, who earns the money? Just
create something new.
And so, here I am, some 3,000
words later looking at where this process has taken me. My soundtrack got to work on my imagination
and now as I look back I'm not sure if this matters at all. This is life and as I type this I’m still no
closer to figuring out what is fueling my affection for The Band. But maybe I’m
asking too much and ultimately, maybe “it makes no difference” at all as long
as I just keep punching keys and watching the words appear across the
screen. Fall is just around the corner,
the twilight of the year.
2 comments:
Well said. Thank you for writing that. I've been listening to "It makes no difference" on repeat for a few days. Your words help me understand the wonderfully sad and happy experience that the band was and remains.
Rock music is replete with disgruntled band members who feel that they did not get the credit they deserve. Look no further than Ginger Baker, who to this day, gripes about the fact that Jack Bruce collected songwriting royalties for decades after Cream was just a memory, for White Room, I Feel Free, and Sunshine of Your Love. But them's the breaks. That's how copyright law works. There are some bands, having seen what happens when one individual is the writer, and the band implodes (two examples are The Police & Creedence Clearwater Revival), and have done something to avoid that. They make the entire band the writer of all the songs. Like U2. They split royalties evenly. Does anyone think for a minute that Bono and the Edge are not the real songwriters here. No, they don't. But as a brotherhood, they decided to credit everyone. That is why they are still here, after 40 years. Then there are bands where the other members are smart enough to realize what they have is only because of one person, the songwriter. And they don't complain or gripe about money. They carry on with the job. A perfect example of this is Depeche Mode. Only one guy has made that band what it was and is. Mertin Gore. But nobody complains, because they are intelligent enough to see the truth when it is right in front of them. The other members of the Police were and are great players. But great players and singers are a dime a dozen. Great songwriters are born that way. They have the magic something, that creates the melodies that make the songs live and breath.
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