Levon Helm "Rag Mama Rag"

I was on vacation last week when Levon Helm passed away, so I didn't get to write about him here, in a timely fashion.

But I guess I'm glad about that, as I had several days to process, and think about what I wanted to say.

I'm sure just about every news outlet played either "The Weight" or "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" as they spread the news.

And I took a peek at mvy's Facebook page to see that someone had posted those amazing lyrics from "When I Go Away."

Don't want no sorrow
For this old orphan boy
I don't want no crying
Only tears of joy
I'm gonna see my mother
Gonna see my father
And I'll be bound for glory
In the morning
When I go away

And yeah, if I had been "on-duty" with the blog last week, I probably would have posted that song myself.  While the song says basically, "Don't cry, I'm off to Heaven," it's pretty heavy still.

I never met Levon, but I did have a one degree of separation moment.

Back in 2008, we traveled to Merlefest, for four days of recording the best in Bluegrass and Americana Roots music, and Levon was on the bill.

There was a crew of 6 of us.  Gary did most of the heavy tech.  Nick ran the board.  I was producing segments.  Lindsay Reid took pictures.  One of Gary's buddies came down from Louisville to gopher for us.

And Jane did, what Jane does.

Jane is one of the weekend DJs at mvy.  And two of her best attributes are a) she's game, and b) she's not shy.

So whenever we head to a festival, Jane is in charge of autographs.

We bring copies of the CDs of the artists on the bill.  Or posters.  Or occasionally a guitar.  And Jane is dispatched to stalk the backstage area (or, more frequently these days, wait in the autograph line at the Merch tent) with a Sharpie in hand, to get the John Hancock.

Levon had already gone through his first big bout with cancer, and was out with his triumphant return to touring, behind the acclaimed "The Mountain" record.

I talked to Jane a bit, as we were enjoying Levon's rocking set and otherwise winding down for the night. 

She wasn't sure if she was going to be able to get close to Levon, because he was the last act of the night, and likely wouldn't be hanging around the grounds.  But she said she'd give it her best effort.

I'll never forget what she said when she came back to the mvyradio Tent.

"That guy is happy.  He's just happy."

Happy to be alive?  I asked.

"He just seems happy.  To be alive.  To be here."

It was evident in his playing and in his stage presence and in the way that people who knew him have reacted to his death:  He took great joy in playing music and in sharing music.

So yeah, last week I probably would have posted something more about Death, like "When I Go Away" or "The Mountain."

But after a few days to process it, I'll take Levon's advice to feel no sorrow, and instead be left with the joy that remains in the many, many great songs he was a part of, like this playful tune about a coy lover.

Thanks again, Levon Helm.



Hear the "Rock Of Ages" version on Youtube.


Hear "When I Go Away" on Youtube.


Hear a performance from Merlefest on Youtube.

Robbie Robertson "When The Night Was Young"

It's an office holiday Monday, so I'm staying at home with family today, but on Tuesday it's Nose To The Grindstone time, with only 4 days to go in the year.

I'm filling in for Barbara on The Lunch Hour this week, which means I've been thinking of some themes for "Essential mvy." And since we start our Top 25 Of 2011 countdown, I've got Year End thoughts on the mind.

So tomorrow during The Lunch Hour, I think I'm going to do a set of Welcome Comebacks.

There were a number of artists who returned, after long absences, with really strong efforts. I'll remind you of some of those on the show, Tuesday.

But perhaps topping the list of Welcome Returns is Robbie Robertson, who hadn't put out a solo record in over a decade.

I had an interesting conversation with Jess about this album, in relation to the Top 25 list.

I had said that originally, I loved the record, but my passion for it had cooled after multiple listens. I expected it to make the Top 25, but be on the lower end.

Jess said that she did not love the record on first inspection. But after subsequent listens, she was quite won over by it, and she expected it to be high on the list.

The difference between Jess and me? I'm a HUGE fan of Robbie Robertson and The Band. Jess is only a casual fan.

So our expectations, going into the record, are very different.

Which makes me wonder how the voters handled this record.

Were they more like Jess, or more like me?

We'll find out on Wednesday, when the countdown starts on mvyradio.


Hear the song on Youtube.

The Band “The Weight”

Here’s how to tell if you are a really good singer. Like, better than just an In-The-Shower or Car-Windows-Rolled-Up enthusiastic yelper.

Find a song that has two- or three-part harmony. Indigo Girls or Crosby Stills and Nash songs are good ones to practice on, because each singer’s voice is relatively easy to discern.

Pick one of the lines, melody or harmony, and sing the song the whole way through, sticking to that one part.

Then sing it again, choosing a different melody/harmony line and see if you can stick with that, all the way through, without defaulting to the first line, or jumping between lines.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, then, I’m sorry to say, you’re not a really good singer. Sure, I bet you can even hold a tune, but you don’t have “ears.”

And even if you can hear what I’m talking about, for most of us, actually doing it is incredibly difficult.

I remember being at a party, a going away party for me, back in my early 20s. I was with my friends Teddy and Jason, both of whom would qualify as good singers (by this post’s definition). And I was one of those people who thought he was a good singer.

Until we sang “The Weight.”

It was late. We’d been drinking. Teddy had his guitar out, and was running through some fun, sing-a-long songs. Cat Stevens. Jimmy Buffett. “Sexy Sadie.”

And when he busted out “The Weight” it seemed perfect for the after midnight, slightly sloppy vibe.

You’re familiar with the denouement of the chorus . . . it’s that part that goes “And! . . . And! . . . And! You put the load right on me.” Each “And” is sung by a different voice, in a progressively higher note. Notes 1, 2 and 3.

We’d get to the chorus, and Teddy, who was leading, would sing the 1. I was supposed to sing the 2 and Jason was supposed to sing the 3.

And every time we’d try it, Teddy would sing the 1, and I would go straight to the 3, leaving Jason to backtrack, go down a note and sing the 2.

Afterwards, Jason said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it sung that way before.”

Truth is, I just couldn’t find the note. Not that I was out of tune. I hit the 3 just fine. But I could only follow the prevailing melody line, not my assigned harmony.

It’s hard. Can you sing “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” but only the John part? Or “Falling Slowly,” sticking only to the Marketa Irglova line? Or “Uncle John’s Band” doing only Bob Weir? I’d like to say I can, but I can’t.

I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t sing if you want to sing. I think any expression of musical joy, is beautiful.

But if you are wondering if you are a good singer, well, see if you can carry The Weight.

The Band "I Shall Be Released"

PJ is taking some time off for the birth of his second child. Guest Blogger (and Dad) Bill Eville, former mvyradio employee, freelancer writer and Vineyard resident fills in.

It was the last night of the guest d.j. blog. Hardy and I didn’t have a project to work on tonight. We didn’t have ice cream or the ladies joining us, either. We were too busy looking for a song.

Earlier that day, while picking Hardy up at Kindergarten, his music teacher had stopped me in the hallway. She seemed eager to see me, grinning big and walking fast. “Hey Bill,” she said. “Thanks so much for agreeing to be in the talent show?”

“There’s a talent show?” I asked.

“Sure, next month. At the agricultural hall. The whole island turns out for it.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yup. Hardy said the two of you would be doing it together.”

“Did he say what we would be doing?”

The music teacher laughed. “Oh, I’ll let him tell you about it.”

I found Hardy in his classroom wrestling with his backpack. I helped him adjust the straps, then we collected his lunchbox and walked outside, his hand in mine. Halfway to the car, I turned to him. “So, I hear we’re going to perform in the talent show.”

“Yeah. I thought we’d play music,” Hardy said. “Like the guys in the video’s we’ve been watching.”

I felt a surge of admiration for my son. At five and a half he was game to go public, on stage and in front of everyone. He was my hero. But I was also scared to death. Why me, I thought. His mother is the musician. She could whip out a Bach violin concerto easy as passing the peas. Me? I’m a music appreciator. I hide in the basement singing only when no one, save my son, is watching. But I held my tongue. After all, I had invited this influence into our lives.

“Have you picked out a song?” I asked. “Something we heard this week?”

“No. Not yet. What are we watching tonight?”

I thought for a minute. Perhaps we needed variety, a concert video that incorporated a whole bunch of musicians. “I have just the thing,” I said.

That night, as we settled into the basement, Hardy quizzed me about tonight’s choice. “What’s the name of the band?” he asked. I showed him a copy of The Last Waltz, Martin Scorcese’s documentary of The Band’s farewell concert.

“The name of the band is The Band.” I said.

“Oh, come on, Dad.” Recently, Hardy and I had watched some Abbot and Costello bits on youtube. I had to admit, it did sound like a, whose on first, what’s on second, routine.

“Really, it’s true. The band is called The Band. And in this concert a lot of their friends are performing too. You’ll recognize a few.”

We watched a lot of the show in silence. I had forgotten how magical it was. How tight Van Morrison’s pants were, how even Neil Diamond impressed, and how hard The Band rocked. I also watched with apprehension. What if Hardy decided we should do a Joni Mitchell tune. Or wanted to me sound like Pops Staples helping out on The Weight?

In the end, Hardy didn’t choose any of the songs from the concert. In fact, we are still looking. In the meantime I have been undergoing a regimen of vocal exercises while Hardy strums away on his ukelele. My panic seems to be lessing a bit, slowly nibbled away by the pride I feel for my son’s blase approach to his moment in the public eye. Just another type of play, it seems, like blocks or coloring. Oh, to be so free again. When fear was fed mostly by those imaginary creatures that go bump in the night but real life wasn’t scary at all.

As we walked upstairs, the week of concert videos now at an end, Hardy turned to me. “You know what I liked about all the videos, together,” he said.

“What?” I asked, leaning forward to hear what I was sure would be an insightful nugget from the mouth of babes. Hardy thought for awhile. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I don’t know.”

Levon Helm "Tennessee Jed"

It's one of those unfortunate realities of the music business that sometimes it doesn't matter how good your record is, if you are not able to go out and promote it, people may not hear it.

Fats Domino was one of the most successful recording artists of his era, but doesn't enjoy the fame, renown or status as folks like Little Richard or Chuck Berry, in large part, because he really didn't like to leave New Orleans to tour. He even turned down offers to play at the Clinton White House, because, you know, he'd been there once in the 70s.

Levon Helm had to stop touring several years ago, to fight a battle with cancer. And miracle of miracles, not only did he recover, he was able to retain his voice AND he went on to record a new solo record, and then win a Grammy. And even though he was carrying an AARP card, he was a Road Dog again, out there playing shows on a regular basis.

The follow-up record, "Electric Dirt," seemed poised to push the Legend further, when he got sick again. Thankfully, it's not cancer. But the lesion on his vocal cord will prevent him from singing for the rest of 2009. He's still touring, playing the drums and letting others sing, but without his voice he's not able to promote the record the way I'm sure he, and his record label would like him to.

Which is too bad, because it's a great sounding disc, which includes a rousing cover of the Grateful Dead song "Tennessee Jed."

So don't forget about Levon, and look for him in 2010!



See Levon on Letterman, here

Buy the album, here