THIS FILM SHOULD BE PLAYED LOUD!

"The Last Waltz" was a concert by the Canadian rock group, the Band, held on American Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1976, at Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco. "The Last Waltz" was advertised as the end of the Band's illustrious touring career, and the concert saw the Band joined by more than a dozen special guests, including Paul Butterfield, Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond, Bob Dylan, Ronnie Hawkins, Dr. John, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, Ringo Starr, Muddy Waters, Ronnie Wood and Neil Young. The event was filmed by director Martin Scorsese and made into a documentary of the same name, released in 1978. The film features concert performances, scenes shot on a studio soundstage and interviews by Scorsese with members of the Band.

Beginning with a title card saying "This film should be played loud!" the concert documentary is an essay on the Band's influences and their career. The group – Rick Danko (died 1999, December 10) on bass, violin and vocals, Levon Helm on drums, mandolin and vocals, Garth Hudson on keyboards and saxophone, Richard Manuel (died 1986, March 4) on keyboards, percussion and vocals, and guitarist-songwriter Robbie Robertson – started out in the late 1950s as a rock and roll band led by Ronnie Hawkins, and Hawkins himself appears as the first guest. The group backed Bob Dylan in the 1960s, and Dylan performs with the Band towards the end of the concert.

The idea for a farewell concert came about early in 1976 after Richard Manuel was seriously injured in a boating accident. Robbie Robertson then began giving thought to leaving the road, envisioning the Band becoming a studio-only band, similar to the Beatles' decision to stop playing live shows in 1966. Though the other band members did not agree with Robertson's decision, the concert was set at Bill Graham's Winterland Ballroom, where the Band had made its debut as a group in 1969. Originally, the Band was to perform on its own, but then the notion of inviting Ronnie Hawkins and Bob Dylan was hatched and the guest list grew to include other performers.

Promoted and organized by Bill Graham, who had a long association with the Band, the concert was an elaborate affair. Starting at 5:00 p.m., the audience of 5,000 was served turkey dinners. There was ballroom dancing with music by the Berkeley Promenade Orchestra. Poets Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Michael McClure gave readings. The concert began with the Band performing its more popular songs an lasted more than 9 hours with all those special guests playing with the group. At around 2:15 a.m. the Band came to perform an encore, "Don't Do It". It was the last time the group performed with its classic lineup.

The original soundtrack album was a three-LP album released on April 16, 1978 (later as a two-disc CD). It has many songs not in the film, including "Down South in New Orleans" with Bobby Charles and Dr. John on guitar, "Tura Lura Lural (That's an Irish Lullaby)" by Van Morrison, "Life is a Carnival" by the Band, and "I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)" by Bob Dylan. In 2002, this four-CD box set was released, as was a DVD-Audio edition. Robbie Robertson produced the album, remastering all the songs. The set includes 16 previously unreleased songs from the concert, as well as takes from rehearsals.

DYLAN & THE BAND: "The Basement Tapes"

Original released on Double LP Columbia C2 33682

(US 1975, July 1)

Recorded in the basement of Big Pink, West Saugerties, NY June-October 1967

Recording engineer: Garth Hudson

Mixed at Village Recorders and Shangri-La Studios

Compiled by Robbie Robertson

Produced by Bob Dylan and the Band

Bob Dylan: vocals, guitar, piano

Rick Danko: bass, mandolin, vocals

Levon Helm: drums (in later sessions only)

Garth Hudson: organ, clavinette, accordion, piano

Richard Manuel: piano, drums, vocals

Robbie Robertson: guitar, drums

«The songs were mostly done in humour», Robbie Robertson told Biograph. «They were either outrageous or comical. It was a big songwriting period, and we all had lots of songs. The idea was to record some demos for other people. They were never intended to be a record. It was somewhat annoying that the songs were bootlegged. The album was finally released in the spirit of "well, if this is going to be documented, let's at least make it good quality"». Criticism of the album centres on two issues, what has been added and what has been taken away. The additions are discreet overdubs on some of this material, and eight new tracks by the Band, supposedly also recorded at the same time. Dylan threw some light into the room when he talked to Rolling Stone, two years later: «They were just fun to do. That's really the way to do a recording - in a peaceful, relaxed setting, in somebody's basement with the windows open. And a dog lying on the floor». He was being pushed by management to come up with new songs, if not for himself then for others to cover. «We must have recorded 50 songs at that place. At that time psychedelic rock was overtaking the universe and so we were singing those homespun ballads, or whatever they were. Actually it wasn't a record, just songs that we'd come to in this basement and recorded. Out in the woods». The jokey front cover is a photograph by Reid Miles, taken not at Big Pink but at the LA branch of the YMCA that seems somehow appropriate for these (Greenwich) village people. Here are characters from some of the songs within, fire-eaters and dwarves and a blowsy Mrs Henry, plus Quinn the Eskimo despite his song having been omitted for some fathomless reason, plus Dylan playing mandolin with an imaginery bow, the Band, Ringo Starr, Neil Young, David Blue and - star of the show - a ree-to-reel tape recorder. (Brian Hinton)

The official release of "The Basement Tapes" - which were first heard on a 1968 bootleg called "The Great White Wonder" - plays with history somewhat, as Robbie Robertson overemphasizes the Band's status in the sessions, making them out to be equally active to Dylan, adding in demos not cut at the sessions and overdubbing their recordings to flesh them out. As many bootlegs (most notably the complete five-disc series) reveal, this isn't entirely true and the Band were nowhere near as active as Dylan, but that ultimately is a bit like nitpicking, since the music here (including the Band's) is astonishingly good. The party line on "The Basement Tapes" is that it is Americana, as Dylan and the Band pick up the weirdness inherent in old folk, country, and blues tunes, but it transcends mere historical arcana through its lively, humorous, full-bodied performances. Dylan never sounded as loose, nor was he ever as funny as he is here, and this positively revels in its weird, wild character. For all the apparent antecedents - and the allusions are sly and obvious in equal measure - this is truly Dylan's show, as he majestically evokes old myths and creates new ones, resulting in a crazy quilt of blues, humor, folk, tall tales, inside jokes, and rock. The Band pretty much pick up where Dylan left off, even singing a couple of his tunes, but they play it a little straight, on both their rockers and ballads. Not a bad thing at all, since this actually winds up providing context for the wild, mercurial brilliance of Dylan's work - and, taken together, the results (especially in this judiciously compiled form with its expert song selection, even if there's a bit too much Band) rank among the greatest American music ever made. (Stephn Erlewine in AllMusic)

DYLAN & THE BAND: "Before The Flood"

Original Released in 1974, June 20
US: 2LP Asylum AB 201 (later Columbia KC 37661)
UK: 2LP Island IDBD1
Recorded Live at the LA Forum,
between January 30 and February 14, 1974

Twelve million people applied for tickets for a forty-date tour, playing large arenas. Looking back, Dylan recalled that «it wasn't a tour where a bunch of guys get together and say let's go out and play. There was a great demand for that tour, and it had been building up, so we went out and did it. We were playin' three, four nights at Madison Square Garden, but what justified that? We hadn't made any records». He actually played one afternoon and two evening shows at Madison Square - it just must have seemed that way. Dylan had not toured since 1966 and it was now a different world; what had been adventure was now big business - «everybody had a piece of the action. The publicity people. The promoters. I had no control over what was going on». "Planet Waves" was slipped out about a third of the way through the tour, delayed by Dylan's change in title. He rarely played songs from it on stage. This led to disappointing sales of just over half a million, and Dylan returning to Columbia. This double live album - one of the first - was owed as a contractual obligation. It was been a subject of controversy among Dylan fans ever since. Rather than capture the ebb and flow of a live show, tracks were cherry-picked from four separate concerts. Even so, the album was brillantly programmed over four sides of vinyl, each with its own atmosphere, and it does convey the structure of eac show - Dylan with the Band, the Band solo, Dylan solo, the Band again and back together till the end of the show.

 On the front cover fans hold matches alight and aloft, while other shots of Barry Feinstein catch the six men onstage, intent and serious. A nightly highlight was Richard Manuel's hoarse, straining vocal on "I Shall Be Released" that is captured here on the Band's set. The critical dispute centres over the quality of the tour as a whole that was much the same from stadium to stadium. Dylan himself makes a comparison with Elvis, the 'sensitivity and power' of the Sun sessions as compared to the 'full-out' power of his 1969 TV comeback. There is an urgency and sense of rush here that makes this concert tour unmistakeable. For Michael Gray, «there is an over-speedy, breakneck quality here that does little justice to the lyrics» with Dylan simply throwing his head back and yelling, like a hound. Subtlety and nuance, forget 'em. Real fans have never liked it.

David Cavanagh revaluates the album: «it lacks the usual smugness shared by performer and audience of such affairs. This is feral, and Dylan is aggressive not cuddly. The verses are punched out... the four-man choruses are all but screamed. The next time people heard music this billious, it was being made by The Clash». He is backed upb by Tim Riley: «this is the nostalgia album that beat the oldies trap, a tour of 60s landmarks that made a glance backwards seem entirely contemporary». Paul Williams saw one of the concerts sampled here in real time and didn't enjoy watching a show from so far away - "about a mile in back of the singer's head" - is amazed how good it now sounds, and so well recorded, especially Levon's drums. It captures the moment when a great artist 'saw daylight. (Brian Hinton in "Bob Dylan Album File & Complete Discography")

BOB DYLAN: "Planet Waves"

Original released on LP 

Asylum 7E-1003 (US) / Island ILPS 9261 (UK)

(1974, January 17) 

The Bob Dylan and The Band 1974 tour coincided with the release of "Planet Waves" and it also began a new era in Dylan's career that saw him reapproaching older material in increasingly experimental and altered ways, something Dylan is now utterly synonymous with, be it lovingly or to much chagrin. Newly signed to Asylum Records in the US and Island in the UK, Dylan's 14th studio LP was characterised by the return of The Band. Dylan so agonised over the arrangement for "Forever Young" that it's included twice - the slow version, at the closing of Side A, is wonderful. Recorded hastily, it's a strong set, although few predicted the sheer brilliance that was to follow over the next two years as Dylan unleashed first "Blood on the Tracks" then "Desire". The moral of the story: don't try to second guess Bob Dylan (in LongLiveVinyl)

THE BAND: "Northern Lights - Southern Cross"

Original released on LP Capitol ST 11440

(US 1975, November 1)

The first studio album of Band originals since 1971's "Cahoot" - in many respects, "Northern Lights-Southern Cross" was viewed as a comeback. It also can be seen as a swan song, in that its recording marked the last time the five members would work together in the studio as a permanent group, with a commitment to making a record they would tour behind and build on as a working band. The album was also, ironically enough, the Band's finest since their self-titled sophomore effort, even outdoing "Stage Fright". It was spawned after a series of battery-recharging events - the move of all five members out of Woodstock, New York and to Malibu, California, into a new, state-of-the-art 24-track studio that not only felt right but offered them (especially Garth Hudson, working with Moog synthesizers and other new instruments, as well as brass and reeds) a bigger creative and sonic canvas than they'd ever known before; and the decision to finally let the other shoe drop on their early career, accompanying Bob Dylan on their first-ever studio album together ("Planet Waves") which, in turn, had led to an eight-week tour together, this time captured for posterity and, unlike their mid-'60s Dylan tour, rushed out midway through the work on the album at hand. Between all of that, their own live album ("Rock of Ages"), and the "Moondog Matinee2 album of rock & roll and R&B covers, the group found itself with more music in print at one time than they'd ever dreamed possible, despite the four-year gap in new material, and in several genres and modes, and blossoming in some unexpected directions - just prior to the start of the sessions for this album, Levon Helm and Garth Hudson had fulfilled another milestone, the goal of doing an honest-to-God blues album (which dated from the group's tragically brief liaison with Sonny Boy Williamson in 1965), producing and/or playing on what ended up being a Grammy-winning LP by Muddy Waters, the Woodstock Album. It was time to make some of their own music again, and Robbie Robertson obliged by showing up with a bumper crop of great new compositions. "Northern Lights-Southern Cross" totals eight songs in all, and he and the rest of the group rose to the occasion, luxuriating in the range afforded by the studio (christened Shangri-La, a reference to the idyllic haven for art and civilization in James Hilton's novel Lost Horizon - the vibes were that good). On this album the Band explore new timbres, utilizing 24 tracks and what was (then) new synthesizer technology, and also opening out their sound in some unexpected ways. After years of restrained, economical playing Robbie Robertson - who was practically the Count Basie of rock guitarists in terms of following a less-is-more philosophy - stepped out in front with flashy, extroverted playing on "Forbidden Fruit," a semi-autobiographical (about the group) cautionary rock ballad; his elegant trills and flourishes on "Hobo Jungle"; his twanging and twisting away behind Hudson's beautiful, complex brass and horn parts on "Ophelia", a close relative of "W.S. Walcott Medicine Show" from "Stage Fright", which captured the kind of old-timey New Orleans sound that the group had also embraced, in the form of covers, on "Moondog Matinee". Robertson and Hudson seem to feed off one another's presence throughout, perhaps best of all on "Ring Your Bell," which also restores the group's trademarked shared vocals. "It Makes No Difference" might be the best romantic ballad ever done by the group, while the ebullient "Jupiter Hollow" is an exceptional track three times over, a brilliant showcase for keyboards (and not just by Hudson - Robertson forsakes the guitar here for a clavinet), as well as offering Levon Helm and Richard Manuel tripling up on percussion with a drum machine. "Rags and Bones" is one of Robertson's most deceptively personal songs, and features the most elaborate keyboard sounds of any recording in the group's history. "Acadian Driftwood" stands out as one of Robertson's finest compositions, equal to anything else the Band ever recorded, and a slightly more complex and ambitious (and successful) down-north analog to "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down." The vocals by Helm, Manuel, and Rick Danko were all spot-on as well, on this last great musical statement from the group, and the fact that it only made number 26 on the charts is much more indicative of the state of music radio and Capitol's marketing department (which was only really good at selling Beatles and Beach Boys reissues at the time), than any flaws in the record. [The 2001 reissue offers exceptional sound, upgraded to 24-bit mastering, and extends the running time by seven delightful minutes with the addition of a pair of bonus tracks, an early run-through of "Twilight," which was released as a single in the wake of the LP, and a stripped down, upbeat rehearsal version of "Christmas Must Be Tonight"; but either version one gets of "Northern Lights-Southern Cross", is worth owning]. (Rob Bowman in AllMusic)

THE BAND Live In Washington DC - July 17, 1976

THE BAND: "Moondog Matinee" (+ 6 Bonus)

Original released on LP Capitol SW 11214

(US 1973, October 15)

Something of a stopgap collection while Robbie Robertson readied his next batch of songs (sadly, the other band members had ceased to write entirely), "Moondog Matinee" is an entertaining if inessential album of cover songs. Taking on songs written (or popularized) by Clarence "Frogman" Henry ("Ain't Got No Home"), Allen Toussaint ("Holy Cow"), Bobby "Blue" Bland ("Share Your Love With Me"), Elvis Presley ("Mystery Train"), Chuck Berry ("The Promised Land"), The Platters ("The Great Pretender"), Fats Domino ("I'm Ready"), LaVern Baker ("Saved"), and Sam Cooke ("A Change Is Gonna Come"), The Band sound completely at home as they tackle these rock n' roll (as opposed to rock; there is a difference) and r&b-based "oldies." And though I wouldn't say they improve on the originals as a general rule, this is most definitely a worthwhile exercise, as The Band respectfully pay homage to music that obviously meant a lot to them. Their take on "Mystery Train" is certainly exemplary, as The Band really hit on a good groove on this one. Helm and Hudson (who sounds like he's been listening to a lot of Stevie Wonder) especially shine, while Manuel steals the show on "Share Your Love With Me," a supremely soulful ballad. 

Richard always was The Band's most affecting singer, while Helm was their most authoritative, and as such it makes sense that Helm sings the album's more rollicking numbers ("Ain't Got No Home," "The Promised Land," "I'm Ready," and "Mystery Train"). The first three are probably my least favorite songs on the album, actually; certainly the silly chorus somewhat mars "Ain't Got No Home" (only Van Morrison can get away with such wordless gibberish), and the other two, while well performed, are simply of a style I prefer less than the surrounding material. "Saved" is only average as well, while we're at it, and though their version of "The Great Pretender" is classy enough, that's just one of those songs that I think should be left alone. Perhaps The Band's most versatile and steadiest singer (if their least distinctive), Danko does a good job on Toussaint's sing songy "Holy Cow," which sounds like it could've been written by Randy Newman, and he puts in a terrific performance on Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come," which is probably the album's other standout track alongside "Share Your Love With Me" and "Mystery Train." In the middle of all this is the waltz-like instrumental "Third Man Theme," which provides a nice break in the action and shows that the group put some thought into how they wanted to conceive this album. (Scott Florman in AllMusic)

THE BAND: "Cahoots"

 Original released on LP Capitol ST-651

(UK 1971, September 15)

In comparison to its predecessors, "Cahoots", the Band's fourth album, may be characterized as an essentially minor effort that nevertheless contains a few small pleasures. These pleasures begin with the leadoff track, "Life Is a Carnival," a song that continues the theme of "Stage Fright" by emphasizing the false nature of show business and its impact on reality. The song features a lively Dixieland horn chart courtesy of Allen Toussaint. "When I Paint My Masterpiece," a Bob Dylan song making its recorded debut here as the second selection, is another welcome track, buoyed by mandolin and accordion in a charming arrangement appropriate to its tale of an odd trip to Europe. "4% Pantomime" is a duet between the Band's Richard Manuel and Van Morrison that is entertaining to hear, even if the song itself is slight. Unfortunately, that just about completes the list of the album's attractions. Annotator Rob Bowman claims that the overriding theme of the songs is «extinction and the sadness that accompanies the passing of things that once were held to be of great value»; actually, there is no overriding theme to the minor songs written by Robbie Robertson. Several of the songs' lyrics come across as half-baked film scenarios, but they fail to be evocative, and they are paired to music lacking in structure. The failure is solely in the writing; the Band sounds as good as ever playing the songs, with singers Manuel, Levon Helm, and Rick Danko all performing effectively and primary instrumentalist Garth Hudson filling in the arrangements cleverly. It's just that the material is not strong enough, particularly in comparison to the three impressive albums the Band had released previously. [By adding four good bonus tracks, the 2000 reissue significantly strengthens the collection.] (William Ruhkmann in AllMusic)

I'll be there when The Band starts playing...

Original released on LP Capitol STAO 132 

(US 1969, September 22)

In 1969, with America politically divided, culturally riven, and inextricably mired in Vietnam, the once glorious Sixties were stumbling to an end. Dylan had closed the door and pulled down the shades on a generation looking to him for answers. Drugs were getting heavier and psychedelia had turned flaccid. It was into this environment that the most influential band of the time unleashed their masterpiece. Built upon Robbie Robertson's extraordinary cycle of songs inspired by the American South, "The Band" is an album with a hefty contemporary resonance rooted in the hurt and pride of the nation's past (it was nearly called "America"). Intriguingly - coming from four Canadians and a Southern boy from Arkansas - it is a heritage they both absorbed and memorably defined. Recorded (mostly) in a house rented from Sammy Davis Jr., high up in the Hollywood hills, these recordings are the culmination of all their rockabilly years on the road, their time spent with Dylan, and their Woodstock sojourn. From barrelhouse piano to ragtime soul, there is a grainy texture to the sound and a rolling flow to the rhythm. Levon Helm, Richard Manuel, and Rick Danko's interlinking vocals seamlessly switch and trade to ghostly, ethereal effect. The Band had many highs, but this second album is their most haunting, poetic, and their most beautifully realized. On the cover they look like a raggedy bunch of frontiersmen or a glowering gang of outlaws - which (in both cases) they were. 

The Band's first album, "Music from Big Pink", seemed to come out of nowhere, with its ramshackle musical blend and songs of rural tragedy. "The Band", the group's second album, was a more deliberate and even more accomplished effort, partially because the players had become a more cohesive unit, and partially because guitarist Robbie Robertson had taken over the songwriting, writing or co-writing all 12 songs. Though a Canadian, Robertson focused on a series of American archetypes from the union worker in "King Harvest (Has Surely Come)" and the retired sailor in "Rockin' Chair" to, most famously, the Confederate Civil War observer Virgil Cane in "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down." The album effectively mixed the kind of mournful songs that had dominated "Music from Big Pink", here including "Whispering Pines" and "When You Awake" (both co-written by Richard Manuel), with rollicking uptempo numbers like "Rag Mama Rag" and "Up on Cripple Creek" (both sung by Levon Helm and released as singles, with "Up on Cripple Creek" making the Top 40). As had been true of the first album, it was the Band's sound that stood out the most, from Helm's (and occasionally Manuel's) propulsive drumming to Robertson's distinctive guitar fills and the endlessly inventive keyboard textures of Garth Hudson, all topped by the rough, expressive singing of Manuel, Helm, and Rick Danko that mixed leads with harmonies. The arrangements were simultaneously loose and assured, giving the songs a timeless appeal, while the lyrics continued to paint portraits of 19th century rural life (especially Southern life, as references to Tennessee and Virginia made clear), its sometimes less savory aspects treated with warmth and humor.