It was on Moviedrome where it had a long, enthusiastic introduction from Alex Cox. I remember that it's an odd, unsettling film, where Gary Busey does Gary Busey things, Jodie Foster holds the centre, and Robbie Robertson, who also co-wrote and produced it, looks like a certain kind of movie star. He never became a movie star, or acted much again, which slightly surprises me. He certainly had presence.
But I guess my point is, Robbie was with me a long time, and not as a background figure. He was a constant protagonist in my cultural education, not quite on a level with Dylan, but not far off.
Not long after watching 'Carny', I read 'Easy Riders, Raging Bulls'. He's a key figure in that too. If you're a bore like me and you consider Dylan and Scorsese the two great figures of American popular art, you know the common factor.
Scorsese's tribute https://pitchfork.com/news/martin-scorsese-remembers-the-bands-robbie-robertson-i-could-always-go-to-him-as-a-confidante/ came out within a few hours of Robertson's death, is full and beautiful.
Dylan, so reclusive and hard to get a word out of these days, might have said nothing, but said this https://pitchfork.com/news/bob-dylan-pays-tribute-to-former-bandmate-robbie-robertson/
Simple, but equally moving.
A few things about Robbie Robertson: he had an incredible life - he was the son of a native American women who married a Canadian serviceman, but he found out in his teens that his dad was actually a Jewish gangster who'd been murdered. He was a working musician from his mid-teens. He changed the course of popular music, he was a superb songwriter, he was one of the best electric guitar players who ever lived, and, at the time of The Last Waltz, it is fair to see he is one of the most handsome devils you'll ever see.
He probably had an odd relationship with the idea of being a "star". At the heart of the criticisms of him is his self-regard, which is perfectly in evidence in The Last Waltz, and in his writings and interviews. Equally, one of his greatest songs is called Stage Fright, and he did indeed suffer debilitating stage fright, and hardly ever played live again after The Last Waltz. He was actually a pretty good singer, but knew well enough that there were three better singers than him in The Band, so very rarely sang, and wrote songs specifically for other people's voices.
The Band were really just so incredible. They had five secret weapons. You can watch or listen to them and concentrate on one member each time.
Robertson was the writer and lead guitarist. He took centre stage and preened a little.
Garth Hudson was a musical virtuoso, in some ways the one that took them miles above all the other bands. He never sang or wrote songs as such, but arranged and played organ/keyboard, sax or anything else, taught the others in the early days. Even though the Band's whole thing was going back to roots, Hudson's incredible innovative organ playing makes them sound ahead of their time. When you watch them play, he seems to find the whole act of creating music blissful. He's the oldest, and the last one alive. He almost certainly took a lot less of everything than everyone else.
Richard Manuel wrote I Shall Be Released with Bob Dylan. He had two beautiful voices and played piano or anything else. Early on, people felt he might be the biggest star. His life was desperate.
Rick Danko was a great bassist, but also a fantastic singer, not just as a lead on the likes of It Makes No Difference, but one of the best singers of harmonies and backing vocals you'll ever hear. His life turned real dark too.
And Levon Helm, the drummer, is probably the biggest star. The greatest singing drummer who ever lived. A beloved figure across music. Died in 2012. Robertson and him were best friends but Helm ended up bitterly loathing Robertson, saying he cheated him out of songwriting royalties. It doesn't ring that true to me. Hard to say.
There's so much story in the Band. Robertson is the one that got rich, went to Hollywood, the one that looked like the company guy. Probably, he was just the one with the work ethic.
Anyway, I loved him. I'm really sad about his death, not least because he's just been a guy on twitter, tweeting out memories and pleasantries. There was no inkling he was ill. He tweeted out a picture of him and Garth with a cat in Woodstock in the late 60s the day before he died. You felt his version of events would outlast all else.
The songs I've been listening to most this week are ...
Acadian Driftwood
It Makes No Difference
Chest Fever
The Shape I'm In
Up on Cripple Creek
King Harvest (Has Surely Come)
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down
Somewhere Down the Crazy River
Stage Fright
The Weight
Once Were Brothers
To Kingdom Come
Out of the Blue
I Shall Be Released
