The Flame Still BurnsA Dedication to Rick
by Carol CaffinCompiled and edited by Carol Caffin. Please do not reproduce any part of this dedication without permission.
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Ten years ago, on the morning of December 10, 1999, I struggled through tears to write the official press release announcing the death of Rick Danko. In between fielding calls asking for confirmation--even before the news was officially on the wire--I listened to the few voicemails of Rick's that were still on my phone, trying to convince myself that if his voice was here, he was still here. With each successive phone call from someone asking for confirmation, for cause of death, for last words, for final performances, for names of surviving family members, the truth began to sink in amid fits and bouts of denial. Denial and anger. Anger at every person who dared to ask a question. Who dared to refer to him in the past tense. The names of the callers and the media outlets they represented got more and more credible and significant--David Fricke, Greil Marcus, Billboard, Rolling Stone, the Associated Press, the New York Times--forcing me to face, against my will, that this was real. Rick was gone. Ten years later, so many people still feel the loss. To mark this important anniversary of Rick's passing, I decided to reach out to people who knew Rick in different ways--friends, colleagues, some who knew him for decades, some for a few months, some who performed with him a handful of times--and asked them to share their thoughts, feelings, memories, and stories of Rick. I was overwhelmed--but not really surprised--by the response I recieved and by the outpouring of love and loyalty for him. Thank you to everyone who contributed to this dedication, as well as all the "behind-the-scenes" people who helped with contact information, interviews, photos, etc. An extra-special thanks to Garth Hudson and Robbie Robertson. ~o0o~
"I remember that Rick had a
great memory. When I joined the Hawks, Ronnie [Hawkins] wanted me to
give music lessons to everyone, so I tried that a little bit. I bought
five books on music theory, little books, and passed them out, but I
didn’t get much response. The first lesson was that I changed
the chords in ‘Georgia.’ There’s a diminished chord
that comes along in the verse and I changed that and, as far as I can
remember, that was lesson one. Lesson two was another song, and that
awareness of conventional chord movement, or, you might say,
‘uptown chordal procedure,’ became more familiar to
them. In our recorded work, there are many unusual changes, and Rick
picked up those changes that were made in the chords, and remembered
them and played them accurately through his life. He also remembered
anecdotes and situations.
Rick had three great talents: one
was playing the bass, one was singing, and the other was being a
humorist. He had his familiar sayings… ‘Pay
attention!’ or ‘Got a minute?’ and he had a
backstage prod that I heard him say a few times, ‘the sooner we
get on, the sooner we get off.’ People remember his emotions and
his energy and in Rick’s domain, he was a king—he could
take over the room, and that is a rare talent. There is no one better
loved in this world than Rick
Danko."
“Some things you never get used
to...
Rick was the most outgoing, spiritually uplifting
member of The Band. A lot of times when I would come up with an idea
or a new song, it was Rick that I was most anxious to share it with
first. His enthusiasm and encouragement often gave me something I
needed to fulfill those ideas.
There are times when I've
wanted to call Rick up and tell him something I was excited about in
that moment. Can't do that no more, and I can't get used to
that.”
“The Rick I knew as an
unfailingly friendly, open-hearted guy who was always accessible to
his musical friends. I have many great memories of him, but one in
particular stands out in my mind.
It's widely known that
Rick could sing just about anything and make it sound good. Well, back
in the late '80s, my brother Artie and I hosted a radio show for WAMC,
the public radio station in Albany, and Rick would occasionally come
on as a ‘special guest.’ (That in itself tells of his
generosity: he drove an hour each way and spent an evening in the
studio for no pay except the fun of doing it.) On one of these shows,
which was later released on a "best of" CD, he asked to sing the old
folk chestnut, ‘Jimmy Crack Corn.’ I thought it was a joke
at first, but what came out, with Rick on guitar and me plunking on a
banjo, was as soulful and heartfelt a rendition of this old tune as
you could get. No song was ever a cliche when Rick got hold of
it.
Even after 10 years have passed, there are many people
in the Woodstock community and the world at large who miss him
terribly. I'm certainly among
them.”
"Rick is ever present in my thoughts
and still makes me smile. I remember when we would be working on songs
in the early 90's and i had one of the earliest versions of Pro Tools
at the time and very often things would go wrong with the program and
no matter what it was, Rick would always say, 'That's why they call
'em computers,' which always made us laugh. Even today when I come
across a glitch in the system, I always say, 'That's why they call 'em
computers,' and fondly think of Rick....I miss him
terribly."
“I miss him every
day.”
“Rick was a great musician
and a better friend. He had such joy and zest. I miss
him.”
“Rick was a great guy--beloved
by many--who saw in him a huge warmth and friendliness. He also beat
his body up too much by not taking care of it. But he was also a
natural musician who taught me a lot. From time to time, I think about
him and miss him a lot. The planet is that much sadder without him
here.”
“One of the main characteristics
of Rick Danko’s bass playing that set him apart from others was
his bob and weave movements on stage. He was a visual icon of a
song’s bass line. Most bass musicians during that time were so
stoic, taking a stiff, rigid posture and emitting no emotion. Rick was
always excited and exuberant in his playing and singing, adding an
important element to The Band’s Funk & Circumstance style of
music that made them one of the best musical groups of all
time!”
“In 1975, I played on The
Muddy Waters Woodstock album, working with Levon Helm and Garth Hudson
from The Band, and I met Rick while playing with Muddy at The Last
Waltz in ‘76. I was thrilled to be around The Band because their
music inspires me so much. They take the depth and honesty of blues,
combine it with the influences of other down-to-earth and traditional
roots music, spice it up with the innovative sounds and virtuosity of
musical genius Garth Hudson on keyboards and brass, and deliver a
special chemistry in their playing and singing that comes from this
unique combination of great multi-instrument musicians.
You
presume, when you hear their mature first album from ‘68, Music
From Big Pink, that they had a lot of stage experience to be able to
start at that high a level. Eric Clapton, no slouch at depth and
innovation himself, has said that Music From Big Pink changed his
life.
In ’83, I played a solo gig at The Gentry on
Capitol Hill in DC, opening for Rick Danko, also playing solo that
night. Rick was The Band’s bass player, and I must mention that
his bass playing was so syncopated and conversational that it reminds
me of Motown bass legend James Jamerson. But Rick was a fine guitar
player too, and backed up his soulful singing, his own original songs,
and some of The Band’s songs for us beautifully alone. Though
The Band’s vocal style featured a distinctive layering and
interplay of Rick with Levon Helm and Richard Manuel, Rick’s
trademark ardent singing and fragmented phrasing were a delight by
themselves.
Rick put on a very entertaining and friendly
show. His personality, which reminds me of that of a 10-year-old boy,
was full of contagious energy and enthusiasm that makes you smile
while you rock. As he was packing up to go, Rick reached in his pocket
and found a cassette tape that a friend had just given to him -- a
live performance of the pre-Band Levon & The Hawks in a bar in
Canada from 1963. He spontaneously gave it to me to take home to
listen, just trusting me to send it back to him when I could, and I
did.
On the tape, I found out first-hand why The Band had
so much depth and experience to bring to their music: The cassette, a
snapshot of a typical gig, reveals that though they were in their
early 20s, they were already deep, full of fire, and
accomplished. Before they became The Band, they had played thousands
of nights in bars, covering all kinds of music --
rock’n’roll, country, R&B, and straight-ahead raw
blues too. The blues is a big part of The Band’s foundation. I
was particularly stunned by how well the late Richard Manuel could
sing songs originally done by ultimate vocalists Ray Charles, Bobby
Bland, and early James Brown, and actually not suffer at all by
comparison. He, and the 1963 Levon & The Hawks, were that good --
way past “wanna-be” and on their way to their legendary
original musical contribution, when their road experience was combined
with the influence of their ‘60s collaborations with Bob
Dylan.
The blues-Band connection is apparent, not only to
me. In ‘96, I was working with the Muddy Waters Tribute Band at
a blues festival in Finland that also featured the last version of The
Band. When I arrived at the hotel, Rick was in the lobby and saw that
I was tired from traveling. The next thing he saw was an ice cream
vending machine, so he bought me a creamsicle, which I gratefully
gobbled. That was Rick Danko’s last gift to me, but God bless
him for his impulsive kindness and ‘forever young’
spirit.”
“Rick Danko was one of those
very special people that you meet once in a lifetime. He sang like an
angel... always. His music and his family were his life. He was always
a joy to play music with and a dear friend to hang out with. He always
made you smile because he was always smiling. I still miss
him.”
“Rick was a great musician. I
loved touring and doing sessions with
him.”
“I was
photographing Rick and Butterfield at the Joyous Lake and doing my
usual intense dedicated to the art of it work. Afterwards, upstairs in
the dressing room, Butterfield starts to abuse me very strongly
verbally for no valid reason. Danko stood up whispered in Paul's ear
that he should come outside with him and me and told him to apologize
to me. That evening, at another point, when Butterfield was going on
about something else, Rick said ‘You know, God don't like
complaints.’ Another story that a guy who knew Rick well told me
is the following: The guys were in limo waiting for a light on the
Bowery in New York City (habitat, in those years, for many drunkards.)
One obviously down-and-out inebriated hobo knocked on the car window
and put his hand out. Rick opened it and gave him a dollar saying,
‘Here's a dollar, but you have to promise me one thing-that
you'll buy yourself a drink with
it.’" “I met Rick in 1989 in Woodstock at the local bar through friends in common. Since I was recording ‘Can We Go Higher?’, a plea to stop the war in Croatia, I casually asked him to come and sing a line in the song. I came back that night to Bearsville Studios (which generously sponsored my recordings) where I stayed and the staff at the studio told me that Rick promises to everybody but never shows up. I didn't say a word but I knew he would come. Next morning, Rick was at the door as promised. We recorded his line the same day and the next day Garth Hudson came and we recorded his beautiful accordion.
How to say in few words that I learned a lot form Rick
and not go into details? He'd seen the world, but kept his child-like
innocence intact. He was always very polite, respectful to
everyone—working men and women. You cannot fake that; people
sense it. He had that something that disarms you instantly. He was
interested in the core of life and family, not just his but
everybody's that he got in touch with.
The next day, Rick and Garth
stopped by our home in Irvington, New York, and Rick went to wait with
me for the school bus to meet my son, Ivo, who was six years old at
that time, coming from school. It was freezing cold. I didn't want him
to go, but he insisted on coming with me.
Through the
years, many people have asked me how come I have such access to The
Band that they sought for so long and never got, and here I come from
Croatia, a country they never heard of and I spent long time with
them, and staying overnight at their homes.
It is 10 years since Rick left us. I
will miss him as long as I
live.”
“In all my years in this business
I’ve never known a kinder or gentler soul, but Rick Danko was
also one of those rare natural talents. His ethereal voice and
unorthodox phrasings were a gift from another plane where I’m
confident he now sits looking back at us all and smiling his trademark
smile.”
“’You gotta pay
attention,’ (followed by Rick getting a serious look on his
face)
‘Got a minute,’ (followed by Rick rubbing
his own head with a shaky hand which would tousle his
hair).
One evening, Rick came over and invited us to join
him and Elizabeth to see a show by Wavy Gravy at a resort that runs
‘retreats’ on various counter-cultural
topics. Wavy’s show was to be entertainment for that
week’s guests and was entitled ‘Clowning in the Late 20th
Century.’ We arrived about an hour before Wavy was due on
stage. We went to the resort’s simple auditorium and sat in the
rear of about 200 guests. To our surprise, the performance was a
theater troupe doing Shakespeare’s Hamlet (we saw the skull of
Yoric) in American Sign Language. The room was silent. We were in a
very giddy mood from the ride over and, as we watched the performance,
we started to giggle inappropriately and to make short comments to
each other. Elizabeth shushed us but Rick laughed and said
‘Don’t worry; they can’t hear us.’ When the
performance ended, the house lights went on and the entire audience
rose and started to chat. Apparently, the audience was not
hearing-impaired and had heard our foolishness for an entire hour. We
slunk out the auditorium and out to our car where we broke up laughing
like kids who had put a bag of poo on the mean neighbors’
doorstep and set it on fire. We never saw Wavy that night. Rick called
Wavy the next day and apologized for not coming to the show. We never
told Wavy what we did, but for the rest of his life I could signal
Rick with a faux hand sign and make him smile (even during a
song).”
“Rick really did change my
life and the experiences I had with him are in a great part carried
with me every day in what I do and in who I am. I think Rick was a
muse to many of the people he asked to do things for him. He really
could bring the best out in you. As a musician, he always brought the
best out in my playing. I always wanted to give him my very best and
in so doing it made me be a better player and
friend.”
“My love for Rick Danko is
for multiple reasons. His giving all of himself to his music and his
friends, sometimes not getting the credit I thought he
deserved—but that mattered little to Rick. My too few moments
with him from Malibu to Coconut Grove in the 60s and 70s to
Woodstock. I cherish and I am proud to be one of the few he invited to
a small show he did for friends at , I believe, the Guitar center in
Hollywood. Before that, due to The Band’s interim manager, the
late Larry Samuels, we hung out a lot at ShangiLa Ranch. From seeing
The Band’s second appearance with Dylan at Forest Hills Stadium
to my helping their records happen while connected to Capitol, I
cherish a 43-year run with Rick Danko, a musician’s musician and
a pure good soul. Miss
You.”
“Rick was a skinny, vibrant
spirit when we were rehearsing in Malibu for The Last Waltz in
1976. Treated me like his best friend. Took me to his house in a
secluded valley in Malibu. A beautiful cat with a wonderful family. I
played with him in Connecticut 10 days before he left us with Garth
and Professor
Louie.”
"The memory I have of meeting
Rick over 15 years ago is permanently etched in my mind. I will never
forget his excitement, his smile, and his generosity and willingness
to befriend a young admirer like me. Meeting him changed my
life. Today when I am searching for a new or different way to sing a
song, I often think of how Rick might have sung it and hearing his
voice usually leads me in the right direction. Even though it's been
10 years since he's been gone, he's still alive and in my heart, my
home, and my studio and always will
be."
“I had the great pleasure of
working with Rick Danko on tour. This was during the period of his
solo career, before he went back and helped reform The Band. I lived
in Woodstock at the same time he was there and got to know him and
Richard and Garth and Levon pretty well. It is my opinion that
although Rick gets plenty of accolades for his talent, one of the
things that I see is almost never mentioned is the fact that I think
he was the best of anyone I’ve ever seen at singing while
playing an instrument. His complex, bounce-around bass parts never
seemed to throw him while he was doing his bounce-around vocals. They
just seemed to bounce in harmony
somehow.”
“The Band definitely had magic
and every member was dedicated to, and was an integral part of its
unique style. No member had more zeal and enjoyed what they were doing
more than Rick Danko. It appeared that his entire being was his
placement in The
Band.”
“Rick was a very special
person. His time in my band was a time of learning and fun. Always a
happy guy and a REAL TALENT. His vocals with The Band were unique and
outstanding. We will miss him as I know the world will also miss his
very special sound. We love you, Ricky, and you will always be in our
hearts. We’ll be seeing
you.”
“Rick had a deep
feeling to continue to play the music that he loved and that people
wanted to hear over and over. I have the warmest feelings and thanks
for how much Rick Danko enriched my life in so many ways. There
isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t appreciate knowing,
working with and for Rick Danko, the person. He was able to have
people love him for himself—so they loved his musical
calling.
Coming home around this time of year, late in the
fall, ten years ago in 1999, we played a show at The Ark in Ann Arbor,
Michigan. We left the club for a ride back to Ulster County, New York;
it was our last show of a tour that we did in the Midwest. We took off
somewhere around midnight. Originally, we were going to leave in the
morning but we all had had it with hotel rooms. The hotel the night
before was as humid as an indoor swimming pool throughout the whole
place. We hadn’t slept or eaten for a day or two and it would
take around 12 hours to get home, but it was definitely time to
leave.
We were driving in Ricks RV that the new record
company had given to Rick earlier in the year as a signing
bonus. Danny Sheehan was at the wheel and Rick decided at around 4:30
AM, somewhere in mid-Ohio in the middle of nowhere, that we should
stop and eat some breakfast. I never thought we would ever find a
place but we got off the interstate and started driving. Within a few
minutes we stumbled upon one of the greatest places. It was a small,
family-run truck stop; the structure was a white building with a
picture window in front saying, ‘Breakfast.’ That place
had the best breakfast you could ever imagine. Rick ordered all kinds
of food and to say Rick loved to eat was an understatement. Danny and
I ordered right along with him. We talked a long time and ate this
huge breakfast.
We stayed a few hours just to finish all
that food. Just when Danny and I thought we were going to get going,
Rick calls the waitress over and re-orders the same amount of food
again and we all just couldn’t stop
laughing.”
“Rick sang
like an angel. I remember just getting back from a tour and was pretty
toasted but went out to see Rick play with Eric Andersen and Jonas
Fjeld at Wetlands in New York City. I was sitting in the back
marveling at the natural wonder of his voice all night long, the pure
soul of it, thinking what a North American treasure he was, when at
the end of the night, Eric said there was a special guest in the house
and invited me up to sing on a song we had written. I'd had a few
drinks and was not expecting to be called up but up I
went.
Here I was singing on the same mic with Rick, our
faces inches apart after a night of marveling at his sound. After the
song ended, I whispered in his ear, ‘You sing like an angel,
Rick.’ He just laughed and put his head down, smiled meekly and
without a moment’s hesitation said, ‘Thanks Willie. Just
singing songs of desperation.’ He smiled and put his arm around
me and gave me a hug. It was a moment I will treasure always. Here he
was, in the middle of a set, having a great old time yet still acutely
aware of the blues that ran through his soul and the salvation that
the songs he sang offered him. He gave me a big old smile and said,
‘Stay up here, Willie. We're going to sing "I Shall Be
Released". You sing the second verse,’ which I happily
did.
He was always looking to share the songs with his
friends and I will never forget the magic of that night and the heart
and. voice of that gifted man. D.A. Pennebaker was filming that night
so it's all on film somewhere in his vault. Here's to you, sweet
Rick. I miss you buddy. Love,
Willie”
“Rick and Me…We met when I
hosted a Band concert at Forest Hills Tennis Stadium in the early
70’s. He was friendly, gracious, funny, and full of life. He
appeared on Mixed Bag at least four times (once at a Hungerthon, once
with John Sebastian, once with Levon, and once with Eric Andersen and
Jonas Fjeld). Best of all was when he and Richard Manuel performed at
one of my Mixed Bag anniversary shows at the old Lone Star Café
shortly before Richard took his own life in 1986. Rick thought highly
enough about their version of “She Knows” that day that he
included it on The Band’s High on the Hog CD. What a
thrill!
Finally, just to bring things full circle, I hosted
a Band concert at Carnegie Hall in the 90’s (The Bacon Brothers
opened). When I caught up with Rick backstage, he was friendly,
gracious, funny, and full of life. And you know what? As far as
I’m concerned, he still is and always will
be…”
“I met Rick in the late
1980's playing around the Woodstock area, while I was playing with The
Stetson Brothers, then later on with Levon and the Woodstock All
Stars. Prior to the All Stars, Levon, Rick, and Richard would come
around once in a while and sit in, so we had a music
connection.
I remember our group with Stan Szelest then
Billy Preston, then Richie Bell, Jimmy, Garth, Levon, and Rick being a
really tight-knit bunch. Once those guys dialed it in, you knew you
were coming in for a smooth landing. You had to fly by the seat of
your pants and learn on the gig, but we had a lot of fun trying to put
those tunes together. We had a lot of great people helping us out
also.
Rick loved to laugh; through my eyes, he was a
comedian at heart. He loved the fans, he loved talking to them,
hanging out with them, and signing memorabilia. One of my favorite
Rickisms was ‘Here's a little trick I learned from
Garth’—then he'd give you one of those Ricky
laughs.
Rick Danko's music and spirit will always be with
us, Thanks,
Rick!”
“Rick was a larger-than-life
character; he lit up any room he walked into. He was good-natured with
everyone and had a big heart. He was a regular at the Towne Crier for
nearly two decades and was without question one of the most popular
and requested artists I ever presented. Within minutes of his taking
the stage, the audience was enthralled and, without being asked, they
would start to sing along—and it would becoame almost a
spiritual experience. Rick had a tremendous sweet tooth, and I recall
he would always look forward to his piece—or two—of carrot
cake after the show. He was one of a kind. I miss
him.”
“Rick, Jules Shear, and I played a
couple of shows together at the Bearsville Theatre during the early
'90s; I'm really glad to have gotten to know him just a little bit. He
seemed warm and gregarious, open, super-friendly. When we first got
together for rehearsal he came in carrying a 6 pack of ginger beer and
passed it out to everybody; it was tasty.
As a performer he
had a real compelling presence that made you want to pay attention. I
liked him very much and wish that he was still
around.”
“Rick was one of the
first people I met when I moved to Woodstock in 1968. He was so warm
and welcoming and so ‘down home’ that I understood
I’d picked the right place to live. He was a special spirit with
a unique and irrepressible talent and always encouraged me to follow
my own
muse.”
“Rick was a good friend who I
think about all the time. He was a positive spirit and was very
inspirational for
me.”
“I can’t believe
it’s been 10 years. I remember when I found out—I’d
come home very late from a gig and the lights were on. My wife told me
that Rick had died and I was devastated. Rick had been my hero from
1968, when I first heard The Band. When I got to perform with him, I
had to pinch myself. We became good friends and he used to call me all
the time from Woodstock. I know he called other people at 2 and 3 in
the morning, but I was in Norway, it would be more like 8 or
9—the time difference worked out well for me. One time, he
called and said ‘This is big, big, big!’ He was very
happy—it was when we got the record deal with Ryko. I think
about him a lot. I miss talking to him, I miss performing with him,
and I miss his
calls.”
“It was the magical year I played Woodstock '94 in Bethel. We had just moved to Lake Hill. I remember meeting him at the Woodstock gas station. I said to my guitarist, Jon, 'Hey, that kinda looks like Rick Danko-it must be his brother, Terry...' Jon said, 'Terry Danko?' The man turned around and stuck out his hand and said, 'That's my brother--I'm Rick.'
He came over to our place, we hung out, and he listened to our music. Listened for five hours! What a kind and sweet man besides all that talent. Rick taught me about how to work together in a band, and how small the world really is. He always invited me to come sing and play with him, in Woodstock and NYC. He once told me I reminded him of Janis, but not so sad. He loved my violin playing and singing, and I still love the pic of him playing my 'fiddle' on his tour bus.
He even did The Conan O'Brien show with me, the first time I toured with Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks. He came in to the Green Room, with a case, and opened it up-- giving the brand new, beautiful bass inside to his brother, Terry (bassist for The Hawks). Rick was always giving.
He was a dear soulmate, and I am so thankful for the all-too-few times we shared and played music. Whenever I sing one of your vocal parts, I want to cry with the joy of how beautiful, yet mournful, you sounded when you sang. I think of you all the time, and can't believe it's been 10 years without your soulful voice, incredible music and playful way. I love you and really miss you, Rick Danko-RIP."
“Rick Danko had the true feel of
rock and roll music. You could tell Rick’s voice anywhere and it
just made you feel good about the music and about life in
general.”
“Rick sang a
duet with me on our record, ‘In Search Of Woodfoot’ and
went on to help me organize a benefit concert based on The Last Waltz
called The First Waltz, which was made into a concert video. The
series of concerts went on for five years and help to raise a quarter
of a million dollars for teenage homelessness here in
Chicago.
Nick:
‘Hey Rick, it’s me, Nick in Chicago.’
Over the years since, I’ve met many
who’d played with Rick as well and had been “Got a
minute-ed”, but this was new to me.
I called my band
and found a drummer for the night who would now have to learn my
opening set as well as 14 Band songs and some covers to back up Rick
for those two nights. Keep in mind, Rick didn’t call me to let
me know he needed a band for the night. I called him!
The day of the first gig we got there early,
expecting to run through the set with Rick and Aaron. They pulled up
in a big RV. Rick first had to give me the tour: ‘Ok,
here’s where I sit. Sit down . Now look out the
window. That’s what I see. Now come in back. Lie down on the
bed. Ok, look forward down the aisle. That’s my view when
I’m resting.” We got up on stage and ran through a song or
two. That was it.
The first show we did with Rick was a
little on the short side. I hoped it wasn’t because we were too
loud or sounded shitty to him. He said, ‘No, just didn’t
have the energy tonight. Must have slept funny. I’ll be on it
tomorrow.’ He was. The second gig was a full set with encore and
was great all throughout. At the end of the set though, Rick looked
pretty spent. He said, ‘Usually I talk my head off between
songs. Tonight, I just couldn’t think of anything to say.’
I asked him if he’d been to a doctor before the tour for a
checkup. He said he had and was told all was cool. I asked,
‘Really?’ He said he’d go when he got
home.
The last night Rick was in town he, Aaron and my
family went to a Christmas party held in a bar on the Westside that
had been rented out for the evening. His friend and one time Band
member Pete Special had put together a band for the evening and Rick
and I went up and jammed. He was in rare form that night and played
his ass off. Seemed like whatever was getting in his way on the
earlier dates was out of the picture now. He danced with my
four-year-old daughter and joked with my son and gave them each 20
bucks for Christmas presents from ‘Uncle Ricky.’ The first
time Rick and I recorded to together for my record years earlier, he
gave me 40 bucks back when I paid him and told me to buy my kids some
presents from Uncle Ricky. ‘Plant the seed!’ he
said.
After that night, Rick and Aaron went on to Ann
Aarbor for one more gig, then home to his own bed and then to the next
world.
The loss of Rick is a hole you don’t fill. My
daughter, now 14, asked me recently what songs Rick was known for, so
I sung her the “stars” verse of ‘It Makes No
Difference’ and immediately burst into tears. Couldn’t
make it through. My son is two years older than her and remembers Rick
a little better, I think. He’s a graffiti artist and recently
did a painting on what’s known as a legal wall here in town. He
wrote the word “Peace” and instead of signing it at the
bottom he wrote: “R.I.P. Rick Danko.” Our birthdays are
two days apart so around Christmas he’s always remembered in the
Tremulis house. We still ‘Plant the
seed.’”
“What it is that sets Rick
apart from all the other musicians and rock stars that I have followed
and looked up to my whole life boils down to a simple but profound
truth: Whether I'm listening to him sing, or watching him in The Last
Waltz (for the millionth time), or playing his remarkable bass lines
in my tribute band, the result is always the same—I feel truly
and deeply happy. It's as if I've been infected by his joyous and
playful spirit. What greater legacy could a person
leave?”
“I liked Rick a lot. He was an
amazing musician who only cared to make music and keep The Band
legendary—and he
did.”
"Rick was the spark at the center of
a lot of great music and good times. This is from rehearsals at the
Academy of Music in 1971: He's taken over the keyboard as Richard
stepped away--a glimpse of his manic energy and sense of
fun."
“I remember the first time I
met Rick. I was cleaning Levon's studio in preparation for that big
session they taped for TV. I had been vacuuming and he startled me as
he bounded up the stairs and popped inside the door right in front of
me....Smiling as usual...he waved his hand furiously in my direction
like a big kid and says..."Hi...I'm Rick!" Ha ha.
I will
never forget how he brought me onstage at his Bearsville show. He said
he liked how the girls dressed up the stage and so unexpectedly asked
Leslie and I to join Marie during his set. He said, ‘You sang on
“Sip the Wine,” so I need you all up here with me! There
had been so much debate in the dressing room about who should sing the
"Crazy Chester" verse during “The Weight.” Aaron said,
‘Rick, it should be you,’ and left it at
that.
Well, when the time came for him to sing that
verse...he stopped and pointed at ME! I was terrified and shook my
head ‘no.’ I guess he loved that even more. He laughed and
motioned for me to come over next to him at the mic. What else could I
do? Everyone was watching and wondering what was going on. I quickly
whispered that I didn't think I could do it...I wouldn't remember the
words. He just beamed at me. ‘I'll feed you the words,’ he
said. ‘Go!’
I was trembling and heard him give
me the first line and just went on auto pilot. I started very quietly
and got a bit more confident at each line. When I got to the chorus, I
felt more comfortable and belted it out. I could hear some of my
friends at the back of the theater screaming and hooting their support
and I felt everyone rooting for me and it was the most incredible
feeling. Rick had his arm around me and at the end of the chorus his
smile was so big; he looked so proud which made me start to cry. He
looked me in the eye and said ‘See? You DID it!!!’ I wish
I had a recording of that as sometimes it feels like I dreamed the
whole thing. I can only hope that he knew how much his kindness and
caring meant to
me.”
“Rick used to come over to my
house late at night always, like 2:00, 3:00 in the morning and
we’d sit and play guitar, tell stories, things like that. And
I’d always leave a light on on the side of my house so
he’d know that I was awake, and I’d see that smiling face
at the window. And after he passed away, I wrote a song for him called
‘I’ll leave a light on for you.’ And ever since he
died, every year on his birthday and on the date of his death, I leave
that light on. The song is a gentle song about Rick as he leaves his
body and keeps going higher and higher…‘I’m never
gonna see your face outside my window silhouetted by the silver moon,
but every now and then when I hear the lonesome winds blow, I’ll
imagine that you’re standing there like you used to do, so
I’ll leave a light on for you, I’ll leave a light on for
you.’” |
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