Copper Magazine · Issue 133 · A free PS Audio publication
Issue 133 OFF THE CHARTS

The Band: Pulling Their Weight

The Band: Pulling Their Weight

When Canadian rockabilly singer Ronnie Hawkins put together a backing band in 1958 called the Hawks, probably no one realized it would morph into one of the major groups in rock history. Their eventual name, The Band, might seem generic, but their music was captivating.

Original Hawks drummer Levon Helm (and the only American member) helped Hawkins attract a top-notch lineup over the years, mainly poached from other Toronto-area bands. Robbie Robertson played guitar and sang; Richard Manuel played keyboards and drums; Rick Danko covered bass guitar and fiddle. The last to join the Hawks was organist Garth Hudson, who had a music degree and was determined to use it. The only way he would join the band was if they paid him $10 per week as the resident music theory instructor and bought him an organ.

Hawkins and the Hawks had a lot of success, gigging in Toronto and touring. But in 1963, tensions with Hawkins inspired the Hawks to split off on their own. Variously using the names Canadian Squires and Levon and the Hawks, they recorded some singles and took work as a backing band for Bob Dylan’s 1965 and ’66 tours. Since everyone referred to them simply as “the band,” the name stuck.

They set up shop near Woodstock, New York, to record with Dylan in 1967. Those sessions would eventually become The Basement Tapes, released in 1975, but the music developed during that time was the foundation for The Band’s first album, Music from Big Pink (1968). The title refers to the house that the bandmembers shared in West Saugerties. The album, released on Capitol, was produced by John Simon, also known for his work with Big Brother and the Holding Company and Blood, Sweat & Tears.

By any measure, Music from Big Pink is a powerhouse debut, providing songs that stayed in The Band’s repertoire for as long as they were together. Although the single “The Weight” did not chart well, its popularity and influence grew through sales and radio play of the live album; it’s now considered one of rock’s most influential classics. One song that became a live favorite was “Chest Fever” (always introduced with the instrumental “Genetic Method”). You can hear Hudson’s intense organ style and the group’s unique vocal sound that drapes blues phrasing over a repeating harmonic pattern that is decidedly not a blues progression. The track was written by Robertson, the band’s main composer:

 

The following year, an album called The Band was released, again produced by Simon. It contained two of their signature songs, “Up on Cripple Creek” and “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” Only the former was a single; the latter gained popularity thanks to The Band’s thrilling live shows.

Although the album’s other single, “Rag Mama Rag,” charted, it did not break the Top 40 in the US. Because Helm played mandolin and Danko fiddled on this track, Manuel sat in on drums and Simon came out from behind the sound desk to handle the bass guitar part.

 

The hit “The Shape I’m In” was recorded for their third album, Stage Fright (1970). In general, that album has a stronger rock core and less blues and bluegrass flavor than the first two. It also contains some of their most pessimistic lyrics, which many critics at the time noted were oddly mismatched with more upbeat music. To this point, it’s significant to note that this was The Band’s first attempt to self-produce.

Among the record’s fun oddities is “The W.S. Walcott Medicine Show,” composed by Robertson and inspired by stories Helm had told him of the medicine shows that used to tour in rural Arkansas, where he grew up. Hence the twangy, southern-rock sound. Hudson plays tenor saxophone on this track.

 

When Cahoots came out in 1971, Jon Landau of Rolling Stone spent half his review comparing the new album with The Band, primarily in terms of the records’ respective degrees of melancholic nostalgia. Maybe even the musicians themselves were getting tired of Robertson’s dour outlook, since after this album they recorded only covers for several years.

In retrospect, though, there are some gems on this record. The funky “Life Is a Carnival” is heavy on the brass yet experimental with the guitar pedals, conjuring up Motown with a psychedelic tinge.

 

A band so beloved for its jamming live shows should have its live albums counted shoulder-to-shoulder with its studio output. Rock of Ages (1972) is decidedly a classic of that genre. Next came the fifth studio album, Moondog Matinee (1973), devoted to blues and R&B covers. Beyond the critics’ discomfort with their original music, The Band just wasn’t getting along, so creation of new songs became impossible.

It can hardly be called a loss for music-lovers, though. These are terrific arrangements of songs like Chuck Berry’s “Promised Land,” Lieber and Stoller’s “Saved,” and Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come.” Among the outtakes that were released in a 2001 special edition is Helm singing “Didn’t It Rain,” inspired by the 1947 recording by gospel choir-leader Roberta Martin.

 

During this period, The Band worked a lot with Dylan. They appear on his albums Before the Flood and Planet Waves; in 1975 The Basement Tapes was finally released as well. But those collaborations didn’t slow their own studio output. 1975 saw the release of Northern Lights, Southern Cross.

The Band was again ready to make an album’s worth of new songs, with Robertson continuing as chief composer. Maybe they were encouraged by the completion of their own studio, Shangri-La, in Malibu. (Superstar producer Rick Rubin owns it now.) The Band had equipped it with a 24-track tape recorder, so the layering on this album gets quite impressive; Hudson particularly enjoyed the ability to use two or three keyboards on a single song.

The sly wit of The Band – in the writing, the arranging, and in Helm’s delivery of lyrics – shines on the upbeat blues “Ophelia.” Robertson’s jaunty guitar solo starting at 1:37 is icing on the cake.

 

When the Martin Scorsese-directed concert film The Last Waltz was shot in late 1976, the group knew their ride was coming to an end. It was billed as their “farewell concert appearance.” They did release Islands in 1977, but that was just to complete their Capitol contract, and they loaded it with previously recorded songs they’d never had a chance to release.

Robertson wasn’t interested when The Band revived to tour in 1983. A few years later, Manuel committed suicide. The new lineup, used for the album Jericho in 1993, included Helm, Danko, and Hudson, plus drummer Randy Ciarlante, guitarist Jim Weider, and keyboardist Richard Bell.

Even without Robertson and Manuel, this is still The Band, as you can hear in their rousing rendition of Muddy Waters’ “Stuff You Gotta Watch.”

 

The same personnel released High on the Hog in 1996 and Jubilation in 1998. While the former is mainly covers, for Jubilation the group once again wrote new material, a challenge without the stalwart talents of Robertson. Danko’s “High Cotton” has a simple classic-country sound and a laid-back feel despite the remarkable number of syllables he crowds into each line.

 

There were rumors in 1998 that another album was in the offing, but it never came to be. Danko died the following year, and Helm in 2012. Of the old Hawks, only Robertson and Hudson are still living. The music they brought to the world as The Band will likely live forever.

 

Header image of The Band courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/©Elliott Landy 1969.

More from Issue 133

View All Articles in Issue 133

Search Copper Magazine

Favorites From T.H.E. Show SoCal 2026 by Cam Martin Oct 05, 2026 #235 Singer/Songwriter John David Schrader: On the Need to Create, Part Two by Joe Caplan Oct 05, 2026 #235 A Life in High-End Audio: The Roy Hall Interview, Part Two by Frank Doris Oct 05, 2026 #235 Grammy-Winning Producer, Songwriter, and Guitarist John Leventhal Goes Instrumental With National Drift by Ray Chelstowski Oct 05, 2026 #235 From Swimming Pool to New Listening Room—to Founding an Accidental Audio Company by Gilles Laferrière Oct 05, 2026 #235 The Vinyl Beat’s Size Matters Edition by Rudy Radelic Oct 05, 2026 #235 The Sublime Complexities of Nature by B. Jan Montana Oct 05, 2026 #235 How to Play In a Rock Band, 28: Growing Older and Dealing With It by Frank Doris Oct 05, 2026 #235 Young Rascals: From Bar Band to Stardom by Wayne Robins Oct 05, 2026 #235 Duncan Sheik: In Memoriam by Ray Chelstowski Oct 05, 2026 #235 From The Listening Chair: The Meze Audio 105 Silva Headphones by Howard Kneller Oct 05, 2026 #235 Checking Out Some NOLA Loudspeakers – and Some Thoughts About Audio Writing by Frank Doris Oct 05, 2026 #235 The Kanazawa Phonograph Museum: Music from a Time Capsule by Sebastian Polcyn Oct 05, 2026 #235 PS Audio in the News by PS Audio Staff Oct 05, 2026 #235 From The Audiophile’s Guide: Making the Most Critical Choice by Paul McGowan Oct 05, 2026 #235 Evolutionary Growth by Frank Doris Oct 05, 2026 #235 Speed Racer by Peter Xeni Oct 05, 2026 #235 Happy Halloween! by James Schrimpf Oct 05, 2026 #234 A Life in High-End Audio: The Roy Hall Interview, Part One by Frank Doris Sep 07, 2026 #234 Jason Greenlaw Offers His Personal Perspective on Jazz Guitar in Vantage Point by Frank Doris Sep 07, 2026 #234 Transcendent Phoenix: Lucina Yue Brings the Ancient Konghou Into Modern Times by Frank Doris Sep 07, 2026 #234 We Must All Follow Our Bliss by B. Jan Montana Sep 07, 2026 #234 How to Play in a Rock Band, 27: Leveling Up by Frank Doris Sep 07, 2026 #234 Ross Valory: Traveling Into New Musical Territory With All of the Above by Ray Chelstowski Sep 07, 2026 #234 Singer/Songwriter John David Schrader: On the Need to Create by Joe Caplan Sep 07, 2026 #234 The People Who Make Audio Happen: More From T.H.E. Show SoCal 2026 by Harris Fogel Sep 07, 2026 #234 The Vinyl Beat Digs Into the Gadget Box by Rudy Radelic Sep 07, 2026 #234 The Rolling Stones: Foreign Tongues Spoken Loud by Wayne Robins Sep 07, 2026 #234 Musical Moments by Rich Isaacs Sep 07, 2026 #234 Rags for Solo Piano and a Dog: David Chesky's Ragtime Music for the Modern Age by Frankly Speaking Sep 07, 2026 #234 HIGH END 2026, Vienna: Here to Stay by Carsten Barnbeck Sep 07, 2026 #234 From The Audiophile’s Guide: The Two Main Types of Loudpeakers – Box and Panel by Paul McGowan Sep 07, 2026 #234 Letting it Slide by Frank Doris Sep 07, 2026 #234 PS Audio in the News by PS Audio Staff Sep 07, 2026 #234 Long Playing by Peter Xeni Sep 07, 2026 #234 La Mer by B. Jan Montana Sep 07, 2026 #233 A Report From The Total Hi-Fi Experience Show SoCal 2026 by B. Jan Montana Aug 03, 2026 #233 Bluegrass Meets Country, Folk, Jazz and More in All That We Carried by The Squid City Slingers by Frank Doris Aug 03, 2026 #233 Corey Glover and One Tribe Nation: A Variegated Musical Collective by Ray Chelstowski Aug 03, 2026 #233 Excursions with Clive: The Late Clive Davis, A Personal History by Wayne Robins Aug 03, 2026 #233 AI, Art, and Music: A Conversation With Synthography Art by Joe Caplan Aug 03, 2026 #233 New American Symphonies: A Rediscovered Gem and a Vital Contemporary Work by Frank Doris Aug 03, 2026 #233 The Vinyl Beat: Genesis, the Dave Clark Five, Antonio Carlos Jobim and More by Rudy Radelic Aug 03, 2026 #233 How to Play in a Rock Band, 26: When It's Time to Record Your Music by Frank Doris Aug 03, 2026 #233 More From T.H.E. Show 2026, and the People Who Made it Happen by Harris Fogel Aug 03, 2026 #233 Underappreciated Artists, Part Three: Icehouse by Rich Isaacs Aug 03, 2026 #233 The Surprisingly Rich and Varied Music of Somalia by Steve Kindig Aug 03, 2026

The Band: Pulling Their Weight

The Band: Pulling Their Weight

When Canadian rockabilly singer Ronnie Hawkins put together a backing band in 1958 called the Hawks, probably no one realized it would morph into one of the major groups in rock history. Their eventual name, The Band, might seem generic, but their music was captivating.

Original Hawks drummer Levon Helm (and the only American member) helped Hawkins attract a top-notch lineup over the years, mainly poached from other Toronto-area bands. Robbie Robertson played guitar and sang; Richard Manuel played keyboards and drums; Rick Danko covered bass guitar and fiddle. The last to join the Hawks was organist Garth Hudson, who had a music degree and was determined to use it. The only way he would join the band was if they paid him $10 per week as the resident music theory instructor and bought him an organ.

Hawkins and the Hawks had a lot of success, gigging in Toronto and touring. But in 1963, tensions with Hawkins inspired the Hawks to split off on their own. Variously using the names Canadian Squires and Levon and the Hawks, they recorded some singles and took work as a backing band for Bob Dylan’s 1965 and ’66 tours. Since everyone referred to them simply as “the band,” the name stuck.

They set up shop near Woodstock, New York, to record with Dylan in 1967. Those sessions would eventually become The Basement Tapes, released in 1975, but the music developed during that time was the foundation for The Band’s first album, Music from Big Pink (1968). The title refers to the house that the bandmembers shared in West Saugerties. The album, released on Capitol, was produced by John Simon, also known for his work with Big Brother and the Holding Company and Blood, Sweat & Tears.

By any measure, Music from Big Pink is a powerhouse debut, providing songs that stayed in The Band’s repertoire for as long as they were together. Although the single “The Weight” did not chart well, its popularity and influence grew through sales and radio play of the live album; it’s now considered one of rock’s most influential classics. One song that became a live favorite was “Chest Fever” (always introduced with the instrumental “Genetic Method”). You can hear Hudson’s intense organ style and the group’s unique vocal sound that drapes blues phrasing over a repeating harmonic pattern that is decidedly not a blues progression. The track was written by Robertson, the band’s main composer:

 

The following year, an album called The Band was released, again produced by Simon. It contained two of their signature songs, “Up on Cripple Creek” and “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” Only the former was a single; the latter gained popularity thanks to The Band’s thrilling live shows.

Although the album’s other single, “Rag Mama Rag,” charted, it did not break the Top 40 in the US. Because Helm played mandolin and Danko fiddled on this track, Manuel sat in on drums and Simon came out from behind the sound desk to handle the bass guitar part.

 

The hit “The Shape I’m In” was recorded for their third album, Stage Fright (1970). In general, that album has a stronger rock core and less blues and bluegrass flavor than the first two. It also contains some of their most pessimistic lyrics, which many critics at the time noted were oddly mismatched with more upbeat music. To this point, it’s significant to note that this was The Band’s first attempt to self-produce.

Among the record’s fun oddities is “The W.S. Walcott Medicine Show,” composed by Robertson and inspired by stories Helm had told him of the medicine shows that used to tour in rural Arkansas, where he grew up. Hence the twangy, southern-rock sound. Hudson plays tenor saxophone on this track.

 

When Cahoots came out in 1971, Jon Landau of Rolling Stone spent half his review comparing the new album with The Band, primarily in terms of the records’ respective degrees of melancholic nostalgia. Maybe even the musicians themselves were getting tired of Robertson’s dour outlook, since after this album they recorded only covers for several years.

In retrospect, though, there are some gems on this record. The funky “Life Is a Carnival” is heavy on the brass yet experimental with the guitar pedals, conjuring up Motown with a psychedelic tinge.

 

A band so beloved for its jamming live shows should have its live albums counted shoulder-to-shoulder with its studio output. Rock of Ages (1972) is decidedly a classic of that genre. Next came the fifth studio album, Moondog Matinee (1973), devoted to blues and R&B covers. Beyond the critics’ discomfort with their original music, The Band just wasn’t getting along, so creation of new songs became impossible.

It can hardly be called a loss for music-lovers, though. These are terrific arrangements of songs like Chuck Berry’s “Promised Land,” Lieber and Stoller’s “Saved,” and Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come.” Among the outtakes that were released in a 2001 special edition is Helm singing “Didn’t It Rain,” inspired by the 1947 recording by gospel choir-leader Roberta Martin.

 

During this period, The Band worked a lot with Dylan. They appear on his albums Before the Flood and Planet Waves; in 1975 The Basement Tapes was finally released as well. But those collaborations didn’t slow their own studio output. 1975 saw the release of Northern Lights, Southern Cross.

The Band was again ready to make an album’s worth of new songs, with Robertson continuing as chief composer. Maybe they were encouraged by the completion of their own studio, Shangri-La, in Malibu. (Superstar producer Rick Rubin owns it now.) The Band had equipped it with a 24-track tape recorder, so the layering on this album gets quite impressive; Hudson particularly enjoyed the ability to use two or three keyboards on a single song.

The sly wit of The Band – in the writing, the arranging, and in Helm’s delivery of lyrics – shines on the upbeat blues “Ophelia.” Robertson’s jaunty guitar solo starting at 1:37 is icing on the cake.

 

When the Martin Scorsese-directed concert film The Last Waltz was shot in late 1976, the group knew their ride was coming to an end. It was billed as their “farewell concert appearance.” They did release Islands in 1977, but that was just to complete their Capitol contract, and they loaded it with previously recorded songs they’d never had a chance to release.

Robertson wasn’t interested when The Band revived to tour in 1983. A few years later, Manuel committed suicide. The new lineup, used for the album Jericho in 1993, included Helm, Danko, and Hudson, plus drummer Randy Ciarlante, guitarist Jim Weider, and keyboardist Richard Bell.

Even without Robertson and Manuel, this is still The Band, as you can hear in their rousing rendition of Muddy Waters’ “Stuff You Gotta Watch.”

 

The same personnel released High on the Hog in 1996 and Jubilation in 1998. While the former is mainly covers, for Jubilation the group once again wrote new material, a challenge without the stalwart talents of Robertson. Danko’s “High Cotton” has a simple classic-country sound and a laid-back feel despite the remarkable number of syllables he crowds into each line.

 

There were rumors in 1998 that another album was in the offing, but it never came to be. Danko died the following year, and Helm in 2012. Of the old Hawks, only Robertson and Hudson are still living. The music they brought to the world as The Band will likely live forever.

 

Header image of The Band courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/©Elliott Landy 1969.

0 comments

Leave a comment

0 Comments

Your avatar

Loading comments...

🗑️ Delete Comment

Enter moderator password to delete this comment:

✏️ Edit Comment

Enter your email to verify ownership: