When they returned in November 1975 with the ‘Northern Lights-Southern Cross‘ record to end a four year recording hiatus, the rock world was a different place to the one into which The Band had last released an album, if for no other reason than in 1971 Fleetwood Mac had been a moderately successful blues-rock outfit and the Eagles the nickname of a middling South London football (soccer) team – each group now shifting millions of albums on the strength of appealing harmony vocals that were a feature of their agreeable soft-rock sound.
It may sound simplistic to state The Band had already conquered every height in terms of magnificent singing aligned to sublime mid-tempo rock, but not overstating the case to say they did everything better than anyone anyway.
Formed in early 60s Toronto, drummer Levon Helm the only American in a group consisting of Robbie Robertson (guitar), Richard Manuel (piano), Rick Danko (bass) and Garth Hudson (keyboards), they became The Hawks in becoming the backing band of Canadian rock and roller Ronnie Hawkins – their prowess as a supporting ensemble then resulting in them taking stages with Bob Dylan on his 1966 European tour.
Becoming his established sidemen, through 1967 they recorded the legendary ‘Basement Tapes,’ a set of recordings made with Dylan at his home in upstate New York and ‘Big Pink’ the communal house nearby the group were sharing, the work taking on mystical status partly due to not being officially released until June 1975. Back in 1968 and by now simply calling themselves The Band, they recorded the ‘Music From Big Pink’ the most accomplished debut set rock had so far produced.
Emphasising their astonishing musical telepathy and fledgling genius of Robertson as a songwriter, the 1969 follow-up ‘The Band’ went even further in showcasing an extraordinary array of talent. The striking vocals of Helm, Manuel and Danko brought even greater resonance to the brilliant material of Robertson, whose breadth of subject matter established him as a supreme dramatist. The album, with its country, R&B, folk and soul overtones, not only bucked the prevailing trend of hard rock, but is often cited as the greatest rock record ever made.
‘Stagefright‘ (1970) boasted a superb title track and despite lacking the overall brilliance of its predecessor was frequently outstanding, but on ‘Cahoots‘ (1971) their customary verve was absent and began a series of sideways steps that would account for the next three years.
The 1972 double live-set ‘Rock of Ages‘ was a marvel of its kind but contained nothing new, while ‘Moondog Matinee‘ (1973), an enjoyable collection of rock ‘n’ roll covers was, in truth, no more than a holding action as Robertson struggled to come up with viable material. The wait for a fresh batch of songs went on as in the same year they reconvened with Dylan for his ‘Planet Waves‘ LP, their renewed amalgamation leading to a sold-out U.S. tour through the spring of 1974. Various performances from the 30-date extravaganza behind Dylan were captured on the double live-album ‘Before The Flood‘ (1974), The Band heard in scintillating form on the side allocated to them.
By 1975 they were finally ready to record again and having invested in their own studio, a Los Angeles enclave named Shangri-La, began laying down tracks for their long-overdue sixth studio album. Robertson receives sole credit for production and the eight songs that eventually constituted ‘NORTHERN LIGHTS – SOUTHERN CROSS‘ (November 1975) – an album that celebrated their continued existence with a number of serene compositions, but also contained ominous background portents that ultimately brought an end to the only group good enough to be called simply The Band.
For a band whose intuitive playing set them apart from every other outfit in the rock field, the album marked a departure due to the use of layered, often meticulous keyboard patterns. Such a feature was in contrast to the nimble piano/organ interweaving of Manuel and Hudson that had always been at the heart of things, the shift in emphasis on occasion detracting from the close knit aspect of their sound.
Containing several extended pieces, their indomitable spirit, conjured by the almost mythical notion of five great players sat in a room performing wondrous songs, is also dissipated to the extent of Hudson contributing various brass instruments to a number of tracks. Yet even allowing for the embellished arrangements there are plenty of moments when The Band truly soar, affirming the opinion of George Harrison who once described them as the ‘greatest rock group in the history of the planet‘ – George himself knowing a thing or two about great rock bands.
Multi-tracked keyboards and sharp electric guitar are immediately to the fore in opening cut ‘Forbidden Fruit‘, the piece a metaphor for heroin use, something Robertson was witnessing first hand as Manuel, Danko and Helm had all taken to using the drug:
‘Forbidden fruit/That’s the fruit that you’d better not taste/Forbidden fruit/You’ve got one life that you’d better not waste.’
Buried beneath the pronounced decoration is a melody not dissimilar to the ‘Stagefright’ gem, ‘The Shape I’m In‘ but while there is the same underlying breeze to the tune, the message is far more disconcerting. Robertson later reflected his bandmates were in ‘junky denial’ at this juncture and although Helm sounds typically robust in delivering a first-rate lead vocal, the dark overtones of the last verse are unmissable:
‘How can you hear with a bad connection?/You can’t see when there’s no reception/Keep your distance, don’t fool with taboo/’Cause it’ll overtake and undertake you.’
On ‘Hobo Jungle‘ the synthesiser incursions are less prominent, this bittersweet lament of one vagrant leaving behind another in death, beautifully served by Robertson on acoustic guitar and Manuel on piano – the latter producing a lead vocal of such richness, comparison with Sinatra is by no means fanciful. It is a touching piece, the vivid imagery of the composer made even more poignant by the affecting tones of Manuel:
‘She attended the fun’ral in the hobo jungle/Long were they lovers though never could they wed/
Drifters and rounders, oooh, and distant friends/Here I lie without anger or regret/I’m in no one’s debt.’
Mention of ‘Ol Blue Eyes comes with the surprise that he never gave ‘Ophelia’ an interpretation, this sassy, ragtime-infused tale of an enigmatic woman ripe for his attention. Uproarious from the moment Hudson announces its arrival with a trumpet fanfare the story never fails to engage, Helm narrating with a joyously expressive vocal:
‘Boards on the window/Mail by the door/What would anybody leave so quickly for/Ophelia/Where have you gone?’
Based, according to Robertson, on American comedienne Minnie Pearl, whose middle name was Ophelia, the composer crams plenty into a song little more than three minutes long – including an impressive guitar solo – hope always retained that she will eventually return:
‘They got your number, scared and running/But I’m still waiting for the second coming/Of Ophelia/
Come back home.’
If there is correlation between rock music and art, in terms of a song drawing the most evocative and resonant pictures, then it is to be found in the monumental accomplishment that is side one closer ‘Arcadian Driftwood.’
An unequivocal masterpiece lasting six and half minutes, Robertson chronicles the story of a people, the Arcadians, who were expelled from Nova Scotia following the British capture of a French colony in Canada at the middle of the eighteenth century. While some poetic license is taken, the deportations, a matter of historical record, occurred between 1750 and 1763, with many Arcadians making their way to Louisiana, where they eventually became known as Cajuns.
As the narrative unfolds the lead vocal switches back and forth between Manuel, Danko and Helm, each one in masterful form, the first voice heard that of Manuel who sets the scene in sad, but eloquent manner:
‘The war was over and the spirit was broken/The hills were smokin’ as the men withdrew/We stood on the cliffs and watched the ships/Slowly sinking to their rendezvous/They signed a treaty and our homes were taken/Loved ones forsaken, they didn’t give a damn/Try to raise a family, end up an enemy/Over what went down on the Plains of Abraham.’
As rich in poignancy as his American Civil War opus ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down‘ from ‘The Band’ Robertson comes up with one wonderfully descriptive passage after another, the lilting melody enhanced by Hudson on piccolo and accordion and guest Byron Berline, who evokes Cajun music with atmospheric fiddle work. As things come to a conclusion the Arcadians are safe from the travails they left behind, but have come to resemble human driftwood (‘We worked in the sugar fields up from New Orleans/It was evergreen up until the flood/You could call it an omen/Point to where you’re goin’), the composer coming up with a resounding final line to encapsulate their displacement and homesickness:
‘Set my compass north I’ve got winter in my blood.’
‘Acadian Driftwood‘ is a work of colossal achievement and reiterated that, at their finest, nobody else could be so compelling.
‘Ring Your Bell’ gives side two a vigorous start, The Band adopting a soul revue persona in depicting scenes from a romance being shared by a couple on the run:
‘Smoky bars and souped-up cars/Where we drowned all sorrow/Renegade woman, love me like there’s no tomorrow/Left to borrow.’
Helm, Manuel and Danko toss the lead vocal around to good effect while Hudson, as a one man horn section never allows the tempo to drop. If at times it comes across as something they were able to conjure at will, Robertson does not allow things to outstay their welcome and wraps it up inside four minutes. With its connotations of existing in a dream and allusions of time travel, ‘Jupiter Hollow‘ has a more substantive lyric, Helm and Manuel sharing vocal duties over pulsing synthesiser refrain reminiscent of ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again‘ which in this case gives a sense the production is too glossy for its own good.
The ‘Apollo‘, ‘pioneer’, ‘old solider‘ ‘new frontier‘ references reinforce the notion of moving through the ages, Robertson putting a bleak observation on the human condition, no matter what the moment in history, into the mouth of Manuel:
‘I don’t know where to begin/Because nobody cares when a man goes mad/And tries to free the ghost within.’
The space-age keyboard inflections on which the track is built are pared back on closing cut ‘Rags and Bones’, the group landing on much more familiar territory as Manuel conveys Robertson’s impressions of those who inhabit the poorest streets of a big city:
‘Catch a taxi to the fountainhead/Blinking neon penny arcade/A young Caruso on the fire escape/Painted faced ladies on parade/The newsboy on the corner/Singing out headlines.‘
It is a funky, engaging piece that closes the album in affirming fashion – Robertson signing off with some smart guitar lines and exquisite turn of phrase, Manuel voicing the philosophical mood of his band-mate:
‘Strollin’ by the churchyard/List’nin’ to the Sunday choir/With voices rising to the heavens/Like sirens screaming to a fire/Comin’ up to the lane callin’/Workin’ while the rain’s fallin’/Ragman, your song of the street/Keeps haunting my memory.’
While the three aforementioned tracks on side two are, for the most part, attractive enough, the true moments of awe and towering accomplishment are all encompassed within ‘It Makes No Difference’ – from first note to last, six minutes of the most beautifully constructed rock music ever recorded.
With a deeply soulful vocal, astonishing even by his standards, Danko expresses all the heartbreak stemming from a relationship falling apart, the singer perfectly attuned to the heartfelt emotion informing the verses:
‘It makes no difference where I turn/I can’t get over you and the flame still burns/It makes no difference, night or day/The shadow never seems to fade away.’
But in this ballad of stunning originality, the laurels do not belong to Danko alone, the group subtle, yet cohesive in moving majestically through the song. Hudson (soprano saxophone) and Robertson (assertive on electric guitar) take turns in cajoling an irresistible melody before each plays a concluding solo of breathtaking grace – this after Danko has poured his heart out one final time:
‘Well, I love you so much/That it’s all that I can do/Just to keep myself from telling you/That I never felt so alone before.’
With three more exemplary numbers, ‘It Makes No Difference‘, ‘Ophelia‘ and ‘Acadian Driftwood,’ adding to an already illustrious repertoire, The Band set out on a North American tour as 1975 drew to a close and went back out on the road through the spring and summer of 1976. But the close bond between the members, before and since referred to as a ‘brotherhood‘ had begun to splinter, the drug use of Helm Danko and Manuel, along with frustration on the part of Robertson who, with assistance from Hudson, had pretty much pulled ‘Northern Lights-Southern Cross’ together, caused the guitarist to later reflect:
‘It was becoming hard, painful and dark. I couldn’t help thinking why are we doing this?’
While the album had been released to generally positive notices, although in England the New Musical Express described it ‘after a four year wait, inevitably disappointing,’ there were no immediate plans to record a another.
When they did, ‘Islands’ (1977) was a mish-mash of covers and previously unused Robertson material, by which time The Band had also called time on touring, playing their final concert at the Winterland in San Francisco on November 25 1976. Featuring turns from numerous star guests, including Dylan, the event was filmed by Martin Scorsese and turned into an enthralling documentary entitled ‘The Last Waltz’.
It was fitting The Band should depart on making the greatest in-concert film ever recorded.
Made just twelve months after ‘Northern Lights-Southern Cross‘ appeared, the album had proved the opening farewell of their ultimate goodbye.
This article is respectfully dedicated to the memory of Rick Danko (1943-1999), Richard Manuel (1943-1986) and Levon Helm (1942-2012) – and my sister Judy (1964-2015), an advocate of The Band even before her big brother.
THE BAND – NORTHERN LIGHTS-SOUTHERN CROSS (Released November 1 1975):
Forbidden Fruit/Hobo Jungle/Ophelia/Acadian Driftwood/Ring Your Bell/It Makes No Difference/Jupiter Hollow/Rags and Bones;
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NEIL SAMBROOK is the author of ‘MONTY’S DOUBLE’ – an acclaimed thriller now available in paperback and as an Amazon Kindle book.