THE BAND

The Band are one of those bands (like the Grateful Dead or Metallica or Weezer or, well, all of my most favorite bands) that grabs me by my emotional testicles so hard at first that I think I hate them. If that doesn't quite make sense, what I mean is that some music generates such a powerful gut reaction that it seems like I have to go through a period of denial before I admit that, yes, this music is brutally amazing.

I had always heard the Band, primarily through an old drinking/music buddy (Shout out Mike Finn--P.S. My dad wants to remind you that you still have my bass guitar.) whose personal style closely followed Band-member Robbie Robertson. When I got a job at a crazy little bookstore in Georgetown, my exposure to the Band quadrupled, as my boss gave me the choice between Music from Big Pink or more obscure Vanguard folk stuff that I'm not that interested in, good as it may be.


At first, the voices repelled me. They sounded whiney. I didn't like the fact that they were Canadians appropriating and celebrating Americana in their songs. I didn't like their weirdness. I didn't like Garth Hudson's keyboard playing, mostly because as a teenager my parents had taken me to see a local radio concert at which he was the guest star, and during the final band he wandered on stage playing a saxophone in the middle of the set and refused to leave. (He was a very old man at that point, so only a teenager could hold that against him I guess.)

Then I got into Bob Dylan. Though they were called the Hawks at the time, most of the Band's personnel played the songs of Blonde on Blonde behind him, and their 1966 concert at Royal Albert Hall is both infamous and totally mind-blowing. That album (which I highly recommend) is where I first really listened to and fell in love with Levon Helm's drumming, which is tastefully reminiscent of Ringo Starr's perfectly-placed fills and also fucking ROCKS. Perhaps most important of all, though, was the reversal of my opinion of Garth Hudson. Rather than low-mixed old-man noodling, as I had previously thought Garth was solely capable of, I discovered vaporous, bubbling tones and brightly psychedelic organ chords, and he and Robbie Robertson's guitar solos absolutely made those Dylan songs what they are.


The Band, in my opinion, has every right to call themselves The Band because they are one of the tightest bands ever, perhaps rivalled only by the Beatles. These guys are pop geniuses, period. They are a gnarly bunch of dudes (see above album cover photo) who sound beautiful together and are also capable of true weird gold. But mostly just gold. Put this shit on your stereo, drink some wine from the bottle, and pass it to the guy/gal on your left. Or right. Whatever. Enjoy.

Albums to check out: The Band, Music from Big Pink