VZ Magazine

This week, it was an unfortunate time to be an editor of an Arts & Entertainment paper in Woodstock. I was busy planning a full feature article with our best staff writer about Levon Helm's upcoming birthday bash and Midnight Ramble concert at the Ulster Performing Arts Center in May. But then I got the eye-watering press release. Helm had died forty minutes ago. My phone did not stop ringing—writers, friends, the publisher—were pouring their hearts out about Helm's sudden death. Within the span of one week, I had gone from planning to run a birthday celebration article to planning an obituary.

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The old Big Pink house remains standing, somewhat weatherbeaten, in a hidden woodsy location just outside of town in West Saugerties, and grieving fans flocked to the famous house in small groups, saluting the sacred pink house where Helm crafted the legendary 1968 blues rock album, "Music from Big Pink," with Rick Danko, Richard Manuel, and Garth Hudson. The musicians had previously been a back-up band for Bob Dylan in 1966. They were widely known by Woodstock residents simply as "the band," and thus Helm adopted the town's affectionate nickname. The Band went on to perform what was for many a life-changing set at the historic Woodstock Music Festival in 1969.

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Helm would have turned 72 in May. The whole community of Woodstock, Helm's home town, had heard some threads of gossip two weeks ago that Helm had suddenly been transported to Sloane Kettering hospital in New York City. Helm has fought a long battle with cancer, but had been performing his Midnight Ramble concerts in Woodstock regularly. His staff manager maintained that no one was to make any contact with Helm at the time, but she didn't release a statement. The town was then hit again three days ago with the official news from his family that he was in his final days of cancer—Rambles were canceled, tickets were refunded, his family was accepting prayers and well wishes from friends and fans. A dark cloud seemed to gather over Woodstock as we waited for one of this community's most beloved artists to depart.

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Helm's passing yesterday, April 19th, has inspired a movement, an impressive outpouring, with townspeople gathering somberly at nearby restaurants for drinks and the exchange of stories about one of Woodstock's greatest musicians. Woodstock Radio (WDST) had been playing songs by Levon Helm and The Band all day long and continued into the night. A memorial service in Woodstock is still being planned, as of yet not made public—we expect hundreds, if not thousands, of friends and fans to soon fill these Woodstock streets in remembrance.

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(Photo above: The Barn in Woodstock, NY, June 2010, as patrons line up for a Midnight Ramble concert, by RA Chance)

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“The Barn,” where Helm lived and created his legendary music, seems a sad vision now, another monument to Woodstock's musical history. The Barn used to be Levon's home and recording studio, where he held his monthly Midnight Ramble concerts with an impressive twelve-piece band. Special musical guests popped in and out regularly—Jackson Browne, Donald Fagan, John Sebastian. You never knew who was going to show up and perform “The Weight” with Helm at the end of the night.

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Two years ago, I attended a Midnight Ramble as a music reporter on a hot June night, spending most of that time only a few feet away from Helm and his drum set. My mind was officially blown by his relentless ability, at age 70, to pound those skins, with youthful passion and force, for four straight hours.

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I wrote a review of the 175th Midnight Ramble in the July issue of Come to Woodstock (the essential music and art guide to the Woodstock area). I would like to reprint part of that old article from my vault of memorable nights. Perhaps to regain some of my perspective about Woodstock's music community, or to relive an awesome concert experience, or just to salute Levon Helm, who will ramble on my heart.

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I imagine it will be a rocking concert tonight, somewhere up there, maybe with Hendrix and Joplin and Paul Butterfield—some might call it Heaven—wherever great musicians go to jam after they pass on.

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June 2010

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The 175th Midnight Ramble at Levon Helm's Studio, “The Barn,” was sold out on June 19th to a mixed crowd from various generations, from all over the country and all over the world. Helm, 70, recovering from cancer of the vocal chords, performed passionately, his voice only slightly tinged with the grit of age. At the end of the night, the twelve-piece Levon Helm Band and special guests, Jason Crigler and Donald Fagan, played “The Weight,” accompanied by the swaying, crooning audience. All night, the crowd pounded the wooden floors, dancing, some barefoot.

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The Midnight Ramble is just as much a community as it is a concert. A certain unspoken camaraderie among the audience members, the gentle respect of the staff, and the fact that you really are sitting in on a private jam session in Levon Helm's home studio suffices for the value of the $150 tickets, and it's merely a bonus if you really dig The Band and Helm's classic honky tonk rock.

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Larry Campbell, former guitarist for Bob Dylan's band from 1994-2006, played lead guitar, fiddle, and mandolin. Dylan once referred to Campbell, now Helm's right-hand man, as one of the finest musicians in the country. Campbell carried the introduction to “Chest Fever,” on his electric guitar for nearly two minutes. A woman in a red dress twirled on the balcony to the rising and falling notes. Helm and Campbell, who hugged on stage at the end of the performance, received a standing ovation.

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Amy Helm, daughter of Levon Helm, has vocal ability that seems specifically rendered by country and blues. It's deep, moody, and sounds a bit like a gospel choir singer, bringing the soulful element to the Levon Helm Band. She can belt “Blind Willie McTell” and “King Harvest” and blow out all your candles, shake your rib cage, mess up your mind. Amy Helm also played the mandolin and added deep back-up vocals on “Tennessee Jed.”

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Bassist Byron Isaacs was squeezed between Helm and Campbell with his stand-up bass, on the small Turkish carpet which served as a staging area. Isaacs sung impressive lead vocals in a haunting version of William Bell's “You Don't Miss Your Water ('Til Your Well Runs Dry).” Sitting in on piano for Brian Mitchell was David Keys.

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Special guest Donald Fagan, formerly of the duo Steely Dan, sung, played keys and a Melodion-type keyboard harmonica. He sat on the piano bench, threw off his glasses as if to say, “Down to business!” and began banging out, “You Never Can Tell,” in a duet with Amy Helm. Fagan and Levon Helm have been playing and touring together recently, and he has been a regular special guest at Rambles.

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The horn section was almost sitting in the laps of audience members in the front row. The trombone threatened to hit the crowd in the nose. Space was tight for the large brass instruments. Erik Lawrence and Jay Collins on saxophones, Steven Bernstein on trombone, and Howard Johnson on the tuba. Bernstein, acclaimed jazz composer, played a solo that stirred the audience to yet another standing ovation.

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Helm is known for his off-the-cuff invitations to musicians he meets to come jam with him at the Rambles. Jason Crigler, New York City guitarist, opened the evening with a ten song set. Crigler's appearance brought up intriguing issues of persistence and renewal, as both he and Helm are musical survivors. In 2004, Crigler suffered a brain hemorrhage on stage in New York City, and was, for a year and a half, in a vegetative comatose state. He was told he would never play guitar again, perhaps not even walk or talk. Helm, too, once thought he would never sing again, due to cancer of the vocal chords. Yet the two played the stage now with the intensity of young, passionate upstarts. Crigler ended his set with a song he composed after his recovery, “The Books on the Shelf,” which is beautiful in its simplicity, with his wife, Monica, accompanying with vocals.

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The gates to the parking lot (Levon Helm's lawn) open at six. The studio doors open at 7 and the music begins at 8. The studio sits on a lake, where guests often, on hot days, wade through the shallow water. Downstairs, a few tables are set with food, basic Woodstock-ish snacks like blue corn chips and hummus. In the nearby gift shop area, a new book, featuring photographs of musicians playing in past Rambles, by Paul LaRaia, published by Backbeat Books, is being sold in limited numbers. Alcohol is not served on the premises, but it is tolerated to an extent—it must be kept low key. Stumbling around the studio will result in an instant ejection from The Barn, and in one case, car keys were taken away from a guest. However, staff members explained that they only encounter a troublesome customer once or twice a year. The evening is potent with the crowd's mutual respect for Helm's music.

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It is, however, allegedly quite easy to smoke a little funny tobacco outside on the Barn's patio.

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As a staff member explained, The Midnight Rambles are not just a matter of one spider casting its web, but of many spiders casting many webs all at once. Seven recent college graduates, die-hard Band-fans, drove all the way from Madison, Wisconsin to see the Ramble. Two young men from Ireland have been arriving once a year for several years just for this experience. A fan from Sweden arrives annually as well. Levon Helm is visibly in love with what he is doing, sharing music and, upon that platform, creating social connections in a diverse community of a few hundred. The audience feels much more like a group of friends, gathered in a semi-circle around musicians playing upon a carpet, than a flock of strangers at a concert.

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(lyrics from ”The Weight” by The Band)