One reason I cut Rock band drummers some slack---especially those at the level of Led Zeppelin---is that they are playing in very large venues, and the music has to reach all the way to the back seats. Playing "lightly" and with subtlety just doesn’t work in that scenario---it gets "lost".
There are two Rock bands whose drummers I like a lot (as well as the band’s music): AC/DC and Weezer. And wouldn’t ya know it, they are both more Rock ’n’ Roll bands that Rock ones.
One trait of Levon’s playing that I know without a doubt was beyond the understanding of Bonham is perfectly displayed in what Levon plays as his entrance into "The Weight". Robertson plays his acoustic guitar intro, after which Levon hits his floor tom on "1", rests on "2", hits his tom again on "3" and "4", then comes in on full kit on "1" of the first verse. Brilliant!
The thing is, ANY drummer can play that simple part, but no one else ever has! It sounds SO cool, and so musical. Most drummers would play something difficult to execute, to show off their chops. That would be done not in service to the song, but to their ego and pride.
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I know John Bonham only from my very limited exposure to his playing on Led Zeppelin albums. I heard their debut when it came out, and found it unintentionally and almost hysterically funny, like the bar band in the movie Ghost World: Blues Hammer. The name is quite apropos, as that fake-Blues band heavy-handedly bludgeons the music to death, employing no restraint or subtlety what-so-ever. As did, imo, Led Zeppelin. And in anticipation of the possible reaction to this statement by some readers: no, I am not saying this thinking it makes me sound cool (or whatever).
But by the time Led Zeppelin I came out, I was already listening to the Blues Levon Helm had grown up listening to and then playing in The Hawks, that of it’s originators: Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Big Joe Turner, Little Walter, Sonny Boy Williamson, Robert Johnson, Freddie and Albert King, Slim Harpo, Roy Brown, Wynonie Harris, Jimmy Reed, etc. As well as the American bands that had been putting out albums of Chicago-style Blues for several years before LZ showed up: The Paul Butterfield Blues Band---whose black rhythm section Paul hired away from Howlin’ Wolf---and Charlie Musselwhite primarily.
That may not be enough to determine if Bonham could have played in The Band, but imo his bass drum technique alone would have disqualified him. Like many Rock drummers, Bonham "buried the beater." That’s what drummers call punching the felt beater of the bass drum pedal into the batter head and leaving it there, rather than letting the beater rebound off the head, which is called "feathering." Burying the beater causes the forward momentum of the music to stop and start on every down beat (the 1 and 3 in 4/4 time). I can’t get past that in the music of LZ.
Levon Helm employed feathering (as do jazz drummers), and other subtle aspects of the approach to playing the drumset (Buddy Rich "approved" of Levon’s playing 😉). Bonham may have had his strengths, but subtlety was not amongst them. Levon was also very sparing and selective in his use of the crash cymbal, a rarity in Rock music. Most Rock drummers tend to crash at the end of every measure (4 beats in 4/4 time), for no musical reason. Such cymbal crashes chop the music into separate little sections, rather than one forward-moving train. Bonham was very guilty of that musical "crime". He didn’t know which notes to leave out, overplaying---again, very common amongst the drummers in Rock bands. The Band were not a Rock band, they were a Rock ’n’ Roll band.
To hear how "sluggish" Bohham’s drumming is, listen to his opening in the LZ song "Rock ’n’ Roll", and compare it to the "crisp" drumming of Earl Palmer on Little Richard’s "Keep A-Knockin’", which is from where Bonham "borrowed" his part.
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I do somewhat similar thought experiments all the time, including with members of The Beatles. In the documentary on The Band, George Harrison states he instantly felt a kinship with Robertson, hearing in Robbie’s guitar playing an emphasis and focus on contributing to the song itself, to the entire production, rather than playing as a single instrument---the way many guitarists do.
It’s the ol’ "ensemble"-style playing I am so attracted to. That’s why many of my favorite players are studio musicians. Emitt Rhodes told me the best musician he ever worked with was Jim Gordon, a very favorite of mine as well. Another is Roger Hawkins, the drummer in The Swampers, the studio band heard on all the great recordings that came out of Muscle Shoals in the 60’s and 70’s. In an interview in Modern Drummer, Jim Keltner stated he wished he played more like Hawkins.
If you watch and listen to the finale of The Last Waltz, you see and hear poor ol’ Ringo Starr, trying to remain relevant by playing along with Levon Helm. It’s sad: his playing is SO tired, SO sluggish. There is no way he could have been the drummer in The Band.
There are two English bands whose records allow a direct comparison between the playing of three of that country’s most well known guitarists in the same "setting": The Yardbirds, and John Mayall’s Blues Breakers. Eric Clapton is heard on only some of the songs on The Yardbirds’ For Your Love album, the rest and the next two albums it was Jeff Beck. Jimmy Page is heard only on their last---and drastically weakest---album, Little Games.
John Mayall’s first three albums feature the playing of first Clapton, then Peter Green, and lastly Mick Taylor. Dave Edmunds---one of my favorite UK guitarists---was considered when The Stones were looking for a replacement for Brian Jones. I’m glad they chose instead Mick Taylor, allowing Dave to embark on his fantastic solo career. When Dave wanted a guest guitarist on one of his albums, he gave Albert Lee a call. Albert played in the bands of Emmylou Harris and The Everly Brothers for many years. He also has a number of excellent solo albums.
I better stop now: this could go on for quite some time 😉 .
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@onhwy61: I don’t know if I’m the world’s biggest fan of The Band, but I’ll admit to being amongst those who are.
Speaking of which, in the latest Stereophile Newsletter (August---2nd Edition), there is a great story on and interview with mastering engineer Bob Ludwig. In the interview Bob talks about growing up listening to Classical ("I certainly love Classical music. That’s my heart.") and Jazz---though recounts buying Chuck Berry 45RPM singles, learning to play trumpet, getting into studio work, etc.
At the end of the story he is asked for some of his favorite albums of which he mastered. The first one he names is The Band’s s/t "brown" album, which he describes as "an iconic recording." The second is Led Zeppelin II.
The story ends with this: "When pressed on his absolute favorite artists, he settles on The Band." Ludwig: "The Band have always been my ultimate favorite." I'm in good company 😊 .
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@gavman: Yep, that’s what it is. I hope you didn’t jump to the conclusion that my wanting to see Birth Of A Nation implies I agree with the sentiments it espouses! Does wanting to see a Nazi propaganda film make one a Nazi-sympathizer? Not necessarily.
In the book This Wheel’s On Fire---co-written by Levon Helm and Stephen Davis---Levon tells the story of The Hawks having a couple days off between shows in 1965, and as they were near the town in which they knew Sonny Boy Williamson lived (Helena Arkansas, where Levon was raised), they thought they would see if they could find him. They did, and ended up spending several hours playing music with him.
The fun ended when a couple of law enforcement officers showed up, asking what the Hell was going on. The Hawks were told to pack up and get out of town. That story was also told in abbreviated fashion in The Last Waltz. All The Hawks save Levon were Canadians, and hadn’t witnessed that degree of racism. Seeing Birth Of A Nation will---I’m guessing---provide context for me to understand the racism I witnessed in my own family. As the FBI agent in charge in the movie Mississippi Burning asks: "Where does this hatred come from"?
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One movie I still need to see is Birth Of A Nation. One of my longtime faves is To Kill A Mockingbird, which just yesterday I again watched for the first time in years.
One of my sisters recently reminded me of an incident that occurred long ago. After the death of her husband (my Dad’s Father) in early-1969, my paternal Grandmother moved to San Jose to live with us. One afternoon the sister heard the doorbell rang, then ring again. She exited her bedroom and stepped into the hallway that led to the front door. She saw the Grandmother standing at the far end of it, peaking around the corner where the hallway met the entrance foyer.
The sister thought that odd, and headed down the hallway to see what was going on. The grandmother saw her coming, put out her arm to stop her, and said "Don’t answer the door Robyn, there’s a big black n*gg*er outside." My friends found that story hysterical, again and again insisting I tell it.
My High School was attended mostly by white kids; we had a smattering of Hispanics and Asians. and only one black male. He just happened to play guitar, and every musician I knew in 1967 wanted him in his or her band. Blues was the dominant musical style, and Hendrix and Cream were leading the pack. Having a black musician in your band gave you instant credibility!
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@onhwy61: Oh, it would have been completely different, of course. But then that would be a different song. Am I supposed to defend the Southern white view of the Civil War?! I didn’t write the damn song, I’m just describing it’s creation.
I grew up listening to my dad---born and raised on a farm in South Dakota---use very ethnic slur known to man when referring to African-Americans, Latinos, Asians, Native Americans, The Polish, Jews, Catholics, and every other non-WASP group of people in the world. When John F. Kennedy would appear on our TV screen I would hear him mutter "N*gg*r lover", to which my mom would make her objection very well known.
I had a friend who had moved from San Jose to Santa Cruz in 1965, a real good drummer. In the spring of 1969 he was playing in a Jazz trio, and one afternoon he and the band’s pianist---a black man---made the trip over the Santa Cruz Mountains to pay me a visit. My band happened to be rehearsing in the garage of my father’s house, and the two of them watched and listened as we went through our set.
My father arrived home from work, coming into the house through the garage. When he got to the door into the house he called my name, motioning for me to follow him inside. When we were both inside he ordered me to "Get that n*gg*r out of my garage." Mouth agape, I asked "Are you kidding?!" He assured me he wasn’t. I had the unpleasant task of informing my friend of my dad’s commandment.
After everyone had left, the father went into the garage to make sure, he told me, that "the n*gg*r had not stolen any of my tools." What he didn’t know was that the black man he viewed with such contempt was a professor at The University Of California at Santa Cruz, and was far more intelligent and educated that was he.
In 1975 I was working in a 7-pc. all-white Jump Blues/Swing band, playing up and down the Northern California coast from San Francisco to Monterey. We had a great male singer, whom in that era of long hair, beards, and bell bottom jeans had a pompadour and wore a sharkskin suit on stage. The band decided they wanted to add a female singer, and found a great one in Palo Alto, a "full-figured" black woman.
I had played many gigs in the frat houses on the campus of Stanford University in Palo Alto, which is on the West side of El Camino Real, the old long street that stretches all the way from Southern California to San Francisco. All the frat boys were white, and mostly came from families with money. Directly across El Camino Real from Stanford is East Palo Alto, a low-income neighborhood in which I had never been. That’s where out new female singer lived. Seeing Palo Alto from that side of ECR, and the stark contrast between the West and East sides of Palo Alto, gave me a new appreciation of the fact that segregation was not just a Southern phenomenon. No, not by legal decree, but by economics.
Has everyone seen the film Mississippi Burning?
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When in the early-to-mid 1970’s mainstream Rock music became unpalatable to myself and others like me (I won’t name any of the bands and solo acts I’m speaking of), an underground movement took place in which we began following the breadcrumbs left over the years, following them back to the music that little-by-little led to the Rock ’n’ Roll music of the 1960’s upon we which we grew up listening to.
What we discovered were the roots of the music (Hillbilly, Jump Blues, etc.), almost all of which had come from the Southern States, Tennessee and Alabama being two of the major ones. And though that part of the country was still largely segregated, Rock ’n’ Roll had evolved from both the white and black cultures. A major reason early Rock ’n’ Roll shows were becoming prohibited in many cities was because the elders didn’t want the "races" mixing, which they saw happening at R & R shows.
In late-1979 and into 1980 I met and became slightly acquainted with the guys in Dwight Twilley’s band, all of whom had relocated from Tulsa to L.A. They all had that Oklahoma "drawl", and I learned that they had grown up in a very different culture than had we California boys. I had considered Oklahoma a Mid-West state, but I learned otherwise. It is located directly above Texas, and is part of the South.
Twilley’s guitarist Bill Pitcock IV had few interests outside of not just R & R music, but even just the music he, Dwight, and the other band members were themselves making. They didn’t have record collections, hi-fi’s, or even cars, and were almost complete unaware of the music other bands were making. All Bill did all day---sitting around the house Twilley’s record label paid the rent on---was play a huge "Civil War" board game, chain-smoke cigarettes, and guzzle coke from a liter bottle. Though only in his late-20’s, his teeth were already very rotted. He ended up dying of lung cancer at age 58. He had long ago moved back to Tulsa, as had Twilley. In his last years Bill made his only solo album (CD only), which I suggest you at-all-costs avoid hearing. It’s REALLY awful. His guitar playing with Dwight---and The Dwight Twilley Band’s drummer Phil Seymour, who left the band after the Twilley Don’t Mind album for a solo career---on the other hand, is fantastic!
I tell the above in the effort to make the point that growing up in the South---as did The Band’s Levon Helm---instills in one a different view of the history of The United States than does growing up in The North. That view is at the heart of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down", and that a Canadian could tell that story so well is a testament to the talents of Robbie Robertson. Rest In Peace, you rascal you 😊 .
In my opinion, if music lacks the Southern element, it ain’t Rock ’n’ Roll.
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@stuartk: Ah, okay. I hadn't seen that interview. Interesting.
Another disappointment from the group was their sole Little Village album. I just a coupla days ago read a quote from Nick Lowe about it:
"Little Village was really good fun. Unfortunately, the record we did was no good. I suppose on some level it worked, but Warner Brothers kind of gave us too much time to do it."
So he puts the blame on Warner Brothers?! I have always assigned the blame to the group's decision to establish the ground rule of forbidding the recording of any member's already-written song, insisting that they record only songs written "on the spot" for the album. Not a good way to make an album, or even write a song.
That same rule was established for the making of The New Basement Tapes album and film, but that turned out much better than did the Little Village album.
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More corrections:
I described New Buffalo as a "quarter", when they were actually a quartet.
And I said Dave Edmunds had two "precious" albums prior to making his Swan Song Records debut Get It. They were actually previous albums.
Emily Litella lives!
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@rel: Touche!
In my defense, my only excuse is that I never before typed either Calvary or cavalry. Looking at the word calvary now, it doesn’t look even close to how cavalry sounds. Now that I think about it, I've been aware of Calgary (the city in Canada), but being the heathen I am I don't think I was aware of the word Calvary. Sunday School was a LONG time ago!
On the other hand, in The Band’s recording of "TNTDODD", the word Stoneman’s is clearly audible. At least to everyone but Joan. Maybe she heard the LP on a crappy turntable 😉. I love her anyway.
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The Band, The Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, and Buddy Guy did a tour of Canada together in 1970, traveling from city-to-city on a train car they took over. Rick Danko and Janis had a ball together, singing old Hillbilly and Blues songs. The tour was filmed, and is available on a DVD entitled Festival Express.
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Other fun facts about The Last Waltz:
- Ever wonder why Neil Diamond---clearly out-of-place---was included in the roster of artists? Robertson had produced his latest album. Shameless self-promotion.
- The rehearsal for the show was running long, and Robertson asked Levon to tell Muddy Waters they were going to have to ask him to not do his segment (which is one of the highlights of the concert). Levon’s reaction was "If Muddy’s out, so am I."
This post and the one above should make obvious why Levon held Robbie in the contempt he did.
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@garebear: Your understanding of the royalty question is mine as well. I think Robbie’s comment of "I did what I had to do" is very revealing of the nature of his related actions.
Band producer John Simon (he did their first two albums) has told the story of how he himself was tricked out of future royalties by Robertson and Capitol Records. Robertson approached Simon about working on the Last Waltz horn arrangements, and Simon told him he hadn’t received a royalty check from sales of those first two albums in a long time. Robertson told him he would talk to Capitol Records about that situation. Robbie got back to him, telling him that if he agreed to sign away his rights to any future royalties from sales of the two Band albums, Capitol would send him a check for the royalties already owed him, and would give him a percentage of the profits from the Last Waltz film. Robertson told Simon they were all gonna get rich from the album and movie.
What Robertson knew but didn’t tell Simon, was that he (Simon) and the Band members other than himself would not see any money until all the production costs of making the film were recouped. Robertson alone of the members of The Band and John Simon was in on the money paid out BEFORE the production costs were recouped (he was an associate producer of the Last Waltz film).
It is said Simon and the Band members other than Robertson never made a dime from the movie, while Robertson did himself get very rich. And Simon---having believed what Robertson told him---did indeed sign away all future royalties in exchange for profits from the movie, which were zero. And Simon has never again received a royalty check from Capitol Records.
Shame on you, Robbie Robertson.
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@therandyman: One cool thing about the video is that when Robbie is performing the song on piano, you can better hear the song's great chord progressions, and the sophisticated voicing of the chords. Majestic!
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@baconboy: Robbie’s replacement on guitar in the reformed Band was Jim Weider, who imo is actually a better guitarist than was Robbie. I know, sacrilege! Plus, Jim didn’t pretend to sing as did Robbie all throughout The Last Waltz. When Levon, Richard, and Rick were singing those 3-part harmonies, what was Robbie singing? Nothing, he was "mouthing" the words. Do you hear Robbie’s vocal parts? No, because there aren’t any. Embarrassing.
What, being the guitarist and main songwriter in The Band wasn’t enough for him? And then his pal Martin Scorsese gave Robertson far more screen time in The Last Waltz than he did any other member. Again, embarrassing. As was Neil Diamond’s performance. It was Van Morrison who stole the show. He had a few years earlier duetted with Richard on the Cahoots album song "4% Pantomime".
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@jonwolfpell: Yeah, that live recording of "Don’t Do It"---which is the opening track on The Band’s double live album Rock Of Ages---is killer. There’s a studio recording of the song, but it appeared only as the B-side of the "Rag Mama Rag" 45 RPM single.
The song was written by the famous Motown team of Holland/Dozier/Holland, and originally recorded by Marvin Gaye. Prior to hooking up with Dylan, The Hawks were more of an R & B bar band than anything else. It was only during their year (all of 1967, except for Levon, who had quit the Dylan World Tour in late-’65. He went to the Gulf and worked on an oil rig!) in the basement of Big Pink---being tutored by Dylan in all American musical styles---that The Hawks evolved into The Band.
Pianist Richard Manuel did most of the drumming heard on the Basement Tapes recordings, and on about half the songs on the s/t brown album. His drumming style is very hip, and full of intentional, sly humour. Levon was enticed back when bassist Rick Danko called him and said Capitol Records had offered them a million bucks to make an album. By then Levon was in Los Angeles, hanging with Leon Russell, Jesse Ed Davis, and the rest of the Tulsa crowd. Levon was giving drum lessons to the guy who ended up drumming in Linda Ronstadt’s original band.
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OMG, I detest Duran Duran. But I love the debut album by ABC (The Lexicon Of Love), who plowed basically the same field as DD.
I find it kind of amusing how Robert Plant is now involved in music somewhat related to The Band’s kind of music. Why amusing? Because during the time Led Zeppelin were taking over the world of Rock ’n’ Roll, The Band were viewed as an antidote to Led Zeppelin and their ilk.
I can’t speak for any of LZ’s other members, but Plant has long been a fan of Rockabilly, Jump Blues, and other strains of Roots Rock music. He and Dave Edmunds are close friends, and Plant personally signed Edmunds to his Swan Song Records contract. If you haven’t heard Dave’s 1970’s-80’s Swan Song albums, you are in for a treat when you do. Start with Get It, his debut on the label (he has two precious albums on other labels, also fantastic).
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@rettrussell: A beautiful post, thank you. Eric Clapton also holds Richard Manuel in very high regard. His death (okay, suicide) is the only one of a musician that brought me to tears.
@relayer101: I myself found Music From Big Pink to be unfathomable for a year after its' release in 1968. It wasn't until the next year that I heard my first really good ensemble-style band (New Buffalo, a quarter lead by Buffalo Springfield drummer Dewey Martin, with Bobby's brother Randy Fuller on bass and harmony vocals) that I "got" that style of music. It changed everything. I view the history of Rock 'n' Roll in terms of BTB (before The Band) and ATB (after). Not to be sacrilegious, but like B.C. and A.D.
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@vonhelmholtz: I respect the Hell out of Joan Baez. But she became the object of derision amongst myself and my peers when she sang "till so much calvary came" instead of the correct "till Stoneman’s calvary came" in "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down". Come on Joan, if we could hear it surely you should be able to!
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Perhaps I'm paranoid, but I believe carlsbad2's post was directed at me.
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@stuartk: Your comments about Hiatt’s Slow Turning album ("It’s too bad that same group didn’t click when they went into the studio to record Slow Turning") seems to imply that it---like Bring The Family---was recorded with Ry Cooder, Nick Lowe, and Jim Keltner as the backing band. But I think you know that was not the case.
I know how you feel about the Slow Turning album, as that was also my initial reaction to it: mild disappointment. I have however grown to love it, starting when I saw John and the players on the album perform it live at The Roxy Theater on Sunset Blvd. While no one compares to Cooder on slide guitar, Sonny Landreth is no slouch! Sonny’s later solo albums contain fine music as well
I also saw Hiatt and his band perform the Perfectly Good Guitar album, and it too was fantastic. The problem with creating an album as good as Bring The Family is, how do you follow it up? Everything else you do will be compared to it.
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@gjohns: Mine too. "The Weight" is in my top 5 or so songs of all-time. One of Robertson's best songs was at the other end of their career: "It Makes No Difference", sung by bassist Rick Danko.
The controversy about TNTDODD is in its' view of the Civil War from the perspective of a Southerner. You would know that if you actually watched the linked video!
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Oops, "Lipstick Sunset".
@roxy54: Absolutely, you’ll get no argument from me on that point. When I said The Band spoiled me for just about everyone else, the "me" was intentional. I don’t think one should assume that statement implies I think everyone should feel the same. Is it alright if I state that opinion? Is it alright if one listener says he prefers a Wilson speaker over a Vandersteen, or visa versa? Everything a person says is a personal opinion.
What’s interesting is that of the musicians I’ve known or just met, the "better" he or she is (again, a subjective determination), the more he or she loves The Band. Coincidence? No, it’s mutual tastes in music. Lots of people like the music of Mozart, yet Glenn Gould famously did not. J.S. Bach spoiled him for just about all other composers.😉 For I as well.
The old phrase "The best is the enemy of the good" comes to mind.
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