The Band

The Rolling Stone Album Guide

Copied from the Rolling Stone web site. Copyright © 1998 Rolling Stone Magazine. All rights reserved.

Astonishing instrumental prowess makes the Band one of the strongest musical forces in rock & roll history -- but what elevates the group to greatness is the power and clarity of its vision. Exercises in elegiac Americana that work as metaphors for very modern states of mind, Robbie Robertson's songs fuse folklore and history into a mythology of moonlit cornfields and small-town dreaming, of fading natural beauty and the immediate anxiety of individual souls. Rock has its lyric poets in Dylan and Van Morrison; Robertson commands vernacular detail and narrative force, however, in ways that more closely echo literature's short-story masters.

Together for nearly a decade before releasing Big Pink, the Band began by providing back-up for rockabilly pioneer Ronnie Hawkins. Then, serving as Bob Dylan's band, they provoked the fury of folk purists who couldn't abide Dylan's switch to rock. After the motorcycle wreck that caused Dylan's brief late-'60s retirement, the Band retreated to a communal home in Woodstock named Big Pink. Music From Big Pink was the group's tour de force debut: Robertson's "The Weight" and Dylan's "I Shall Be Released" encapsulated the Band's strengths -- the lean grace of Robertson's guitar, the understated drive of Levon Helm's drumming, and, especially, the solo and ensemble brilliance of the group's three singers. With Helm handling the grittier numbers, bassist Rick Danko the steadier fare and second keyboardist Richard Manuel the more soulful songs, Big Pink introduced vocalists of distinct capabilities; and Robertson's remarkable skill at matching the singer to the song set a pattern for all of the group's subsequent work.

The organ majesty of "Chest Fever" unleashed the Band's secret weapon: Garth Hudson. And Hudson's amazing arsenal of textures -- carousel motifs, ragtime piano, a wah-wah clavinet that sounded like crickets -- was then featured heavily on The Band, one of the richest and deepest records in rock history. The autumnal beauty of "King Harvest Has Surely Come," the sly country funk of "Up on Cripple Creek," the slow dignity of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" reveal breathtaking sweep. Nearly all the songs boasted tricky metrical changes and shifts in style, and the playing was that of musicians so assured that their skill never overwhelmed their passion.

Stage Fright wasn't quite so commanding, but "All La Glory" and "Daniel and the Sacred Harp" were Robertson at his most haunting, and "The Shape I'm In," as well as the title track, displayed writing of a penetrating psychological acuity. With Cahoots, strain began showing. Allen Toussaint's horn arrangements on "Life Is a Carnival" and a guest appearance by Van Morrison on "4% Pantomime" were great highlights, but the record was uncertain, murky and unsatisfying -- Dylan's "When I Paint My Masterpiece" being the only song that rivaled the Band's earlier depth.

Notable mainly for the excellent addition of horns (again by Toussaint), Rock of Ages was a massive 1972 live set (later purposely re-released in two volumes), and a fond look back on past glory. Making that spirit more emphatic, the Band then released Moondog Matinee, an album of muted, if expert, covers of the early rock & roll that formed the group's roots (Clarence "Frogman" Henry's "Ain't Got No Home" was rollicking; Elvis's "Mystery Train" was a subtle, inventive remake).

Northern Lights and Islands showed the band shifting slightly toward a less complicated sound. Hudson's work, in particular, was remarkable on both records, but glossiness and ennui infected Islands -- and Robertson's songs seemed pale, easier versions of his classics. A grand summing up, the three-LP The Last Waltz was the record of the Band's final concert and the soundtrack for a fine, elegiac film by Martin Scorsese. This late in the group's career, a heavy reverence surrounded them; adulated for years, the musicians seemed exhausted, overburdened by their own history. Waltz, however, remains a very lively farewell -- Dylan, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton, Muddy Waters and Joni Mitchell all joined in, and the album remains a moving testimony not only to a band, but to an era of resolute musical independence. Even though the group played throughout the '70s, the Band, in retrospect, seemed one of the last great '60s outfits in spirit: absolute artists, uncompromising players, and a true, uneasy brotherhood.

-- P.E.