Music

The Band Carries the Weight

In 1970 a Time magazine cover featured the five members of a rock band simply called The Band, only the second time a Time cover had a rock band on it, the first being The Beatles. I was a big Dylan fan, and the article talked about them backing Dylan on a 1965-66 tour. That may have been the first I heard of them. I think I went out and bought their first album, 1968’s Music from Big Pink, soon after reading that. What I got was something unlike The Beatles or the Rolling Stones or the Beach Boys or anything else I’d ever heard, including Dylan. In spite of the unusual mix of sounds on many numbers, it’s been my favorite album by The Band ever since I got it. Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters said it was the “second-most influential record in the history of rock and roll" and journalist Al Aronowitz called it "country soul . . . a sound never heard before." They seemed to be conjuring up some version of music ladled with flavors from 19th century rural America, with a sound that was a slightly cacophonous rock-folk-country stew that was fresh and fun to listen to. There was no one who sounded like they did.

I just now listened to that first album again all the way through, and I still don’t know how to describe what it sounds like. It’s an unusual mix of guitar, organ, and piano with a heavy, slow drumbeat that, sounding like a bunch of hometown musicians getting together to play whatever instruments they had and sing, but it somehow comes together in songs of beauty with mysterious lyrics evoking the 19th century. It begins with Richard Manuel singing Dylan’s “Tears of Rage” in a strained falsetto, a slow and lugubrious lament about how a daughter treats her father to “wait upon him hand and foot yet always tell him ‘No’.”

We pointed you the way to go

And scratched your name in sand

Though you just thought it was nothing more

Than a place for you to stand

I want you to know that while we watched

You discover no one would be true

That I myself was one who thought

It was just a childish thing to do

Tears of rage, tears of grief

Why must I always be the thief?

Come to me now, you know we're so alone

And life is brief

“The Weight” is The Band’s quintessential song, covered by many others including the Staples Singers and Aretha Franklin, Jackie DeShannon, a band called The Smiths, and the Grateful Dead. It’s probably my favorite song by The Band. Garth Hudson and Richard Manuel switch instruments, with Manuel playing organ and Hudson playing a wonderful wandering piano accompaniment that weaves in and out of the rhythm but always syncs back in perfectly at the end of each verse. The song describes a visitor to a town called Nazareth who pulls in “half past dead.” Robertson related it to Nazareth, PA where his Martin acoustic guitar was made, but the name and being told there’s no place he can lay his head has Biblical connotations.

I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead

I just need some place where I can lay my head

"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"

He just grinned and shook my hand, "no" was all he said

Take a load off Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off Fanny

And (and) (and) you put the load

(You put the load) right on (right on me)

I picked up my bag, I went lookin' for a place to hide

When I saw old Carmen and the Devil walkin side by side

I said, "Hey, Carmen, come on let's go downtown"

She said, "I gotta go but my friend can stick around"

He's not getting much of a welcome, and everyone he meets asks him for a favor or leaves him with the Devil, so in the last verse

Get your Cannonball now to take me down the line

My bag is sinkin low and I do believe it's time

To get back to Miss Fanny, you know she's the only one

Who sent me here with her regards for everyone

Take a load off Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off Fanny

And (and) (and) you put the load

(You put the load) right on (right on me)

Another song I love is “We Can Talk,” written by Manuel about the reticence between a man and a woman to talk about their relationship, but it may also relate to things the “silent majority” kept under the table that the counterculture of the 60s wanted to bring out in the open. I laugh internally every time I hear the last two lines.

We can talk about it now

It's that same old riddle

Only starting from the middle

I'd fix it but I don't know how

Well, we could try to reason

But you might think it's treason . . .

Everybody, everywhere

Do you really care

Pick up your heads and walk

We can talk about it now . . .

It seems to me we've been holding something

Underneath our tongues

I swear if you ever got a pat on the back

It would likely burst your lungs

“Chest Fever” has a demonic virtuoso organ intro with another organ break before the last verse. It’s a testament to Hudson’s classical music chops. The story is that Hudson had a classical music career in sight, and his parents only agreed to let him join the band if the other members agreed to pay him $10/week for music lessons and buy him a state-of-the-art Lowery organ. I love the line “I feel the freeze down in my knees.” The song has an ominous mood.

They say she's a chooser, but I just can't refuse her.

She was just there, but then she can't be here no more.

And as my mind unweaves, I feel the freeze down on my knees.

But just before she leaves, she receives.

“Lonesome Suzie” is another song written by Manuel describing a young woman in a lot of pain, with the singer wondering if he should reach out to her but seeming reluctant to get involved, sung by Manuel in falsetto as if he’s feeling her hurt. It’s a very touching song.

Lonesome Suzie never got the breaks

She's always losing and so she sits and cries and shakes

It's hard just to watch her and if I touch her

Oh, poor Suzie, I'm wonderin what to do . . .

Anyone who's felt that bad

Could tell me what to say

Even if she'd just get mad

She might be better off that way

And where is all the understanding

Her problems can't be that demanding

Why is it she looks my way

Every time she starts to cry?

Lonesome Suzie, I can't watch you cry no longer

If you can use me until you feel a little stronger

I guess just watching you has made me lonesome too

Why don't we get together, what else can we do?

The mood changes dramatically with Dylan and Danko’s “This Wheel’s on Fire,” a rocker that warns the singer is coming after someone. It’s not clear what the wheel refers to except that it’s explosive and perhaps self-destructive as well. The song has been covered by people from Ian and Sylvia to Elvis Costello to the Byrds, who tacked on the recording of a muiffled explosion at the end as sound effects.

If your memory serves you well

You'll remember you're the one

That called on them to call on me

To get you your favors done

And after every plan had failed

And there was nothing more to tell

You know that we shall meet again

If your memory serves you well

This wheel's on fire

Rolling down the road

Just notify my next of kin

This wheel shall explode!

The album ends with Manuel singing a slow, soulful falsetto version of “I Shall Be Released” with his own piano accompaniment. It’s an expression of hope and faith by a man in some kind of prison, contrasted with another man who “swears he’s not to blame” and cries out all day long that he was framed.

They say every man needs protection

They say that every man must fall

Yet I swear I see my reflection

Somewhere so high above this wall

I see my light come shinin

From the west down to the east

Any day now, any day now

I shall be released

I bought their second album shortly after the first. Titled simply The Band, its brown cover showed a black-and-white photo of the five musicians, with a staged photo of them with their instruments on the back cover as they might have looked around 1900. This was quite a contrast from Big Pink, whose cover was a painting by Dylan and back cover showed a view of the pink house, and which opened to a large photograph of them standing outdoors with a large group of their “next of kin.”

The album opens with the bouncy “Across the Great Divide,” conjuring up a vision of pioneers making the western wagon trek across the continent in the 19th century. It’s accompanied by horns and an understated organ in a cheery mood, in spite of Molly holding a gun.

Standin' by your window in pain

Pistol in your hand

And I beg you, dear Molly, girl,

Try and understand your man the best you can

Across the Great Divide

Just grab your hat, and take that ride

Get yourself a bride

And bring your children down to the river side

I had a goal in my younger days

I nearly wrote my will

But I changed my mind for the better

And I still had my fill and I'm fit to kill . . .

Now Molly dear, don't ya shed a tear

Your time will surely come

You'll feed your man chicken every Sunday

Now tell me, hon, whatchya done with the gun?

The third song is “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” the other song most frequently associated with The Band besides “The Weight.” I once read that Canadian Robbie Robertsoin said he wrote the song for Arkansas native Levon Helm to “get it all out of his system.” It doesn’t glorify the Confederacy but expresses the deprivation and loss that southern poor whites experienced in the last year of the Civil War. Helm sings it with passion and sorrow.

Now, I don't mind chopping wood

And I don't care if the money's no good

You take what you need

And you leave the rest

But they should never

Have taken the very best

The night they drove old Dixie down

And the bells were ringing

The night they drove old Dixie down

And all the people were singing

They went, "Na, na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na, na na-na-na-na"

“When You Awake” expresses a lighthearted attitude with an optimistic outlook, sung in Rick Danko’s tenor voice. It’s also a favorite of mine.

Ollie told me, I'm a fool

So I walked on down the road a mile

Went to the house that brings a smile

Sat upon my grandpa's knee

And what do you think he said to me?

When you awake, you will remember everything

You will be hangin on a string

When you believe you will relieve on the soul

That you were born up to grow old and never know . . .

I ain't gonna worry all day long

Snow's gonna come and the frost gonna bite

My old car froze up last night

Ain't no reason to hang my head

I could wake up in the mornin dead

“Rockin Chair” is about an old 19th century seaman who’s had his fill of the sailing and is trying to convince his best friend to quit going to sea with him. It’s sung by Manuel in his baritone with I think Danko joining on the chorus. It’s accompanied by acoustic guitar and Hudson’s accordion with no drums that I can hear, in a leisurely ballad that’s a pleasure to listen to.

Hang around, Willie boy,

Don't you raise the sails anymore

It's for sure, I've spent my whole life at sea

And I'm pushin age seventy-three

Now there's only one place that was meant for me . . .

Oh, to be home again,

Down in old Virginny,

With my very best friend,

They call him Ragtime Willie

Would'a been nice just to see the folks,

Listen once again to the stale jokes,

That big rockin' chair won't go nowhere

“Jawbone” is a humorous song with a jumpy rhythm about a thief who loves what he does and can’t resist going back for more in spite of the consequences.

Oh, Jawbone, when did you first go wrong?

Oh, Jawbone, where is it you belong?

Three time loser, you'll never learn

Lay down your tools before you burn

You keep on runnin and hidin your face

Spreadin your heat all over the place

I'm a thief and I dig it

Up on a reef, I'm gonna rig it

I'm a thief and I dig it

Oh, Jawbone, why don't you sit and moan?

Oh, Jawbone, you know that it's stone for stone

Sneak through the night upon your toes

To look in your eye, it never shows

Your name upon the post office wall

Put you on edge cause they wrote it too small . . .

Temptation stands just behind that door

So what you wanna go and open it for?

“Unfaithful Servant” is my favorite song on the album, a slow ballad about the end of a relationship sung beautifully in Danko's pure tenor. It’s accompanied by Robertson’s acoustic guitar with a trilling solo characteristic of his playing, Manuel on piano, and Hudson playing a beautiful soprano saxophone to finish the song. The lyrics are ambiguous, wondering what the man did that made the woman “send you away,” but saying “it’s no one’s fault” and “bear in mind who’s to blame in all the shame.”

Unfaithful servant

I hear you leavin soon in the mornin

What did you do to the lady

That she's gonna have to send you away?

Unfaithful servant

You don't have to say you're sorry

If you done it just for the spite

Or did you do it just for the glory?

Like a stranger you turned your back

Left your keys and gone to pack

Bear in mind who's to blame in all the shame

She really cared, the time she spared and the home you shared . . .

Life has been good to us all even when that sky is rainin

To take it like a grain of salt is all I can do, it's no one's fault

Makes no difference if we fade away

It's just as it was, it's much too cold for me to stay . . .

Oh, lonesome servant can't you see

We're still one and the same, just you and me

Their next release, Stage Fright, is a lesser album, I think, but it has some real gems on it. The standout cut is the title song ”Stage Fright,” which became a staple of their live performances, as recorded on Rock of Ages, Before the Flood, and The Last Waltz. Robertson says in the liner notes to the CD that it had to do with feeling more vulnerable as he wrote more personal-confessional lyrics, something he had avoided on the first two albums. Danko sings it with a slightly frantic nervousness that sounds like someone with stage fright, accompanied by piano, organ and drums, with some electric guitar and fiddle by Danko.

Now deep in the heart of a lonely kid

Sufferin so much for what he did

They gave this ploughboy his fortune and fame

Since that day he ain't been the same

See the man with the stage fright

Just standin up there to give it all his might

He got caught with the spotlight

But when we get to the end

He wants to start all over again . . .

The doctor said . . . "You can make it in your disguise

Just never show the fear that's in your eyes"

Now when he says that he's afraid

Take him at his word

And for the price that the poor boy has paid

He gets to sing just like a bird, ooh ooh ooh

I love “Daniel and the Sacred Harp,” a classic story of someone selling his soul to the devil, but he doesn't realize it because he grabs the harp and runs off without staying to listen to what else he has to pay for it besides the money. It’s backed by a churchy organ and has the feel of an Old Testament story drawn from the Jewish side of Robertson’s heritage.

Tell me Daniel how the harp came into your possession

Are you one of the chosen few who will march in the big procession?

And Daniel said

The sacred harp was handed down, from father unto son

And me not being related, I could never be the one

So I saved up all my silver, and took it to a man

Who said he could deliver the harp straight into my hand

Three years I waited patiently

Till he returned with the harp from the sea of Galilee

He said there is one more thing I must ask

But not of personal greed

But I wouldn't listen I just grabbed the harp

And said take what you may need

Now Daniel looked quite satisfied, and the harp it seemed to glow

But the price that Daniel had really paid, he did not even know . . .

So to his father Daniel did run

And he said oh father what have I done

His father said son you've given in, you won your harp

But you’re lost in sin.

Then Daniel took the harp and went high on the hill

And he blew across the meadow like a whippoorwill

He played out his heart just the time to pass

But as he looked to the ground, he noticed no shadow did he cast

There are some other good songs on the album, but my co-favorite with “Daniel and the Sacred Harp” is “All La Glory,” inspired by the recent birth of Robertson’s first child, a daughter, and sung with great tenderness by Helm. It’s a lullaby with acoustic guitar, a beautiful and gentle organ by Hudson, and a nice subdued bass by Danko.

I wanna hear the pitter patter

Climb up your ladder now

It's time for you to dream away

For what a big day you've been through

You've done all the things that you wanted to do

All la glory, I'm second story

Feel so tall like a prison wall

I'm lookin for a star bright

To shine down your light now

And keep the little one safe and warm

Cause to her it's just a fantasy

And to me it's all a mystery.

All la glory, I'm second story

Feel so tall like a prison wall

Listen to the serenade

Little girl, promenade

You've got the sunshine in your hand

And maybe come some sweet day

You'll walk that Milky Way

All la glory, I'm second story

Feel so tall like a prison wall

The Band did a final farewell concert on Thanksgiving Day,1976 at the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco after a catered Thanksgiving dinner for 5000 people where they invited their favorite musical influences to play with them, including Bob Dylan, mentor Ronnie Hawkins, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Dr John, Paul Butterfield, Neil Diamond, the Staples Singers, Emmylou Harrris, Bobby Charles, even Muddy Waters and Ringo Starr. Michael McClure and Lawrence Ferlinghetti read poems before the concert. The best numbers on The Last Waltz to my mind were four songs with Dylan, Neil Young’s “Helpless,” Joni Mitchell’s “Coyote,” Van Moison’s “Caravan,” and Bobby Charles’ “Down South in New Orleans.” The Band rehearsed with all of them beforehand and played backup for every guest musician. Martin Scorcese filmed the concert with interview footage to make the best rock concert film ever made.

Besides the recording of “Like a Rolling Stone” on the Before the Flood album, which I think is the best live piece of rock and roll I’ve ever heard, The Band’s live 1971 New Year’s Eve concert album Rock of Ages is the best live rock album I know of. It starts off with a great version of the Motown hit “Don’t Do It,” accompanied wonderfully by “five of the best horn men in New York,” (as is the rest of the album, with a particularly soulful intro to “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.”) Horn arrangements were done by the great Allen Toussaint. The album includes a great version of “Life Is a Carnival” from their Cahoots album. At midnight Garth Hudson launches into a few bars of “Auld Lang Syne,” like you’ve never heard it played before, in the middle of his virtuoso organ performance 0n “Chest Fever”. They finish with a great old rock and roll song, “(I Don’t Want To) Hang Up My Rock and Roll Shoes” by Chuck Willis,” which might have been part of their repertoire when they toured with Ronnie Hawkins before becoming The Band. It may be the best thing on the album.

The Band toured with Bob Dylan in 1974 and were featured in five songs on the concert album from the tour. The next year they came out with a strong studio album titled Northern Lights – Southern Cross (referring to the four Canadians and one Arkansas native who made up the band) that stands up well with their first two albums. It starts with “Forbidden Fruit,” a rocker that’s a warning against the drug addiction that Helm, Manuel, and Danko were caught up in when The Band made Stage Fright. It’s sung with conviction by Helm over a driving drumbeat. Robertson plays two really tasty electric guitar solos in his recognizable characteristic style.

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

Little brother got caught in the web

He ran off to join the living dead

Been through the mill, seen the cross on the hill

He sold his soul just for a thrill

Forbidden fruit

In hot pursuit out on a limb

Forbidden fruit

Your whole world is closing in

It’s followed by Manuel singing a moving and tender “Hobo Jungle,” about an old hobo who freezes to death in a railyard. It’s accompanied by Manuel’s slow piano and Hudson’s wistful and solemn organ. It’s my second favorite song on the album.

There was a chill that night in the hobo jungle

Over the train yard lay a smooth coat of frost

And although nobody here really knows where they're goin

At the very same time nobody's lost

Then the fire went out and the night grew still

This old man lay frozen on the cold, cold ground

He was a stray bird and the road was his callin

Ridin the rods

Sleepin under the stars

Playin the odds from a rollin box car

She attended the funeral 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

Next comes Helm singing “Ophelia,” an upbeat rocker about a woman everyone knows in the neighborhood who disappears without explanation, with a plea that she’ll return. It’s an infectious tune sung energetically by Helm with a tasty drum accompaniment and Hudson playing horns and wind instruments prominently.

Boards on the window

Mail by the door

What would anybody leave so quickly for?

Ophelia

Where have you gone?

The old neighborhood just ain't the same

Nobody knows just what became of

Ophelia

Tell me, what went wrong

Was it somethin' that somebody said?

Mama, I know we broke the rules

Was somebody up against the law?

Honey, you know I'd die for you

Ashes of laughter

The coast is clear

Why do the best things always disappear

Like Ophelia

Please darken my door

"Ophelia" is followed by “Acadian Driftwood,” which I think is second only to “The Weight” as Robertson’s best song, but not as relatable to most people because few Americans know about this slice of history. It tells the story of 11,500 catholic, French-speaking Acadians deported from their traditional homelands by the British during the Seven Years War (French and Indian War in the US) between 1755 and 1764, primarily from what became New Brunswick under the British. They frequently became indentured servants working off seven-year terms in exchange for food and lodging. Many eventually settled in what became Louisiana due to the French-speaking catholic culture there. “Acadian” was anglicized over time to “Cajun.”

The war was over and the spirit was broken

The hills were smokin as the men withdrew

We stood on the cliffs

Ooh, 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 the enemy

Over what went down on the Plains of Abraham

Acadian driftwood

Gypsy tail wind

They call my home the land of snow

Canadian cold front movin in

What a way to ride

Oh, what a way to go

Then some returned to the motherland

The high command had them cast away

And some stayed on to finish what they started

They never parted

They're just built that way

We had kin livin south of the border

They're a little older and they've been around

They wrote in a letter life is a whole lot better

So pull up your stakes, children and come on down . . .

All we had was gone

Broke down along the coast

Ooh, but what hurt the most

When the people there said

"You better keep movin on" . . .

Everlasting summer filled with ill-content

This government had us walkin in chains

This isn't my turf

This ain't my season

Can't think of one good reason to remain

We worked the sugar fields up from New Orleans

It was ever green up until the floods

You could call it an omen

Points ya where you're goin

Set my compass north

I got winter in the blood

It's the historical saga of a people. I know of no other song quite like it. The closest thing would be fellow Canadian Gordon Lightfoot’s “Canadian Railroad Trilogy.” Manuel, Helm, and Danko trade off on vocals like they did on their first album, and the musical accompaniment is rich and melodic with acoustic guitar, accordion and a beautiful flute by Hudson plus Danko on violin, with his bass and Helm’s rhythmic drumming setting the steady pace. It’s a tale of persecution, hardship, and survival with a beautiful melody and great vocals that stands with “The Weight” as my two favorite songs by The Band.

“It Makes No Difference” is a song of lost love sung soulfully and gorgeously by Danko, my third favorite but not by much.

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

And the sun don't shine anymore

And the rains fall down on my door . . .

It makes no difference how far I go

Like a scar, the hurt will always show

And it makes no difference who I meet

They're just a face in the crowd on a dead-end street

And the sun don't shine anymore

And the rains fall down on my door . . .

Well, I love you so much

And it's all I can do

Just to keep myself from telling you

That I never felt so alone before

Robertson played live only twice more, playing three songs with the original five members after a Rick Danko solo show in 1978, and at The Band’s 1994 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Danko and Hudson but not Helm, who disputed the song credit on some songs attributed solely to Robertson. They released one more studio album, Islands, to fulfill their Capitol contract so Warner Brothers could release The Last Waltz film and album. The Last Waltz would require another article just by itself. Robertson had had enough of life on the road and never toured again. Other albums were released with the remaining members and others filling in on guitar, but none captured their original spark or were successful. Eric Clapton at one point wanted to join The Band, but that would have fundamentally changed their sound and identity. Robertson, Danko, and Manuel played on Clapton’s No Reason to Cry album, which has Clapton and Robertson playing a beautiful guitar duet on “Black Summer Rain,” where you can tell who’s playing what notes because they play such different styles.

From 1968-1978 The Band made a huge impact on the music world, influencing Eric Clapton, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, George Harrison, the Grateful Dead, folk musicians Happy and Artie Traum, Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters, Joan Baez, Elton John, and certainly Bob Dylan. They were a refreshing reaction to the psychedelia of the late 60s that even the Grateful Dead distanced from on Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty. In 1965 they had talked with Sonny Boy Williamson about recording with him and being his backup band, but he died shortly afterward. They left us a kind of music that was original and uniquely theirs that fueled the Americana music movement. I’ve been listening to them with pleasure for 55 years.

Brett Nelson

Linda Ronstadt – Rock Me on the Water

In writing this article I realized that Linda Ronstadt arguably recorded the most wide-ranging and accomplished body of popular (in the broadest sense – as opposed to classical) music of any singer I know of in the last 100 years. I’ve listened to her about as much as Dylan, The Band, Van Morrison, Joan Baez, Paul Simon, Steve Goodman, and Leonard Cohen. In my book that’s the company she belongs with. I tried to start writing about her many months ago but seemed to have some kind of writer’s block and couldn’t get started. This article, long enough as it is, will focus mainly on four early albums, since listening to and covering her all her recordings would require a small book.

My first exposure to Ronstadt was I think at 22 watching the Johnny Carson Show, in 1969. I don’t think I’d even heard her name at that point. but I’m sure I’d heard the Stone Poneys’ hit “Different Drum” on the radio. As I recall she was this dark-haired, down-to-earth woman with an engaging personality who answered questions very frankly and had a sense of humor. I think she was promoting her first solo album titled Silk Purse that portrayed her on the cover looking like Daisy Mae sitting in a pigpen keeping company with two large white pigs, which is funny because she wasn’t exactly a farm girl. I’m sure she sang her hit song of the time, “Long, Long, Time,” and I remember being impressed with her vocal power emotional depth.

‘Cause I've done everything I know to try and make you mine

And I think it's gonna hurt me for a long long time

I didn’t buy the album at the time, but a couple years later I spotted her self-titled album Linda Ronstadt in a record bin and saw her dark wide-open eyes staring out with a piercing look. The sepia-toned cover shows a closeup face shot with piercingly direct eyes, as if she’s seeing into your soul, not aggressive or judging, but as if you have her complete attention. I took it home and opened it to find songs by Jackson Browne, Johnny Cash, Neil Young, Woody Guthrie/ Leadbelly, Eric Kaz, and Eric Anderson. “Rock Me on the Water” was a heartfelt anthem of someone searching for comfort.

Oh, people look around you

The signs are everywhere

You left it for somebody other than you

To be the one to care

You're lost inside your houses

There's no time to find you now

Oh, your walls are burnin’

And your towers are turnin’

I've gotta leave you here

And try to get down to the sea somehow

Rock me on the water

Sister, won't you soothe my fevered brow

Oo-oh-oh, rock me on the water

Gotta get down to the sea somehow

The road is filled with homeless souls

Every woman child and man

Who have no idea where they will go

But they'll help you if they can

Now everyone must have some thought

That's gonna pull them through somehow

Oh, the fires are raging hotter and hotter

But the sisters of the sun

Are gonna rock me on the water now

It's accompanied by a guitarist and a drummer named Glenn Frey and Don Henley who would soon start a band called the Eagles, plus the famed Sneaky Pete Kleinow on a sensitive steel guitar. Ronstadt’s powerful voice and expressive singing captured me from the first song. Christopher Loudon of Jazz Times wrote in 2004 that Ronstadt is "blessed with arguably the most sterling set of pipes of her generation."

“I Won’t Be Hangin’ Round” is a blues, with a nice restrained electric guitar by someone named Tippy Armstrong and backup singers, recorded in Muscle Shoals, AL. You feel her sadness but also her determination to make her own way.

I won't be hangin’ round your door

Beggin’, beggin’

No I won't be hangin’ round

To feel the pain

And if you take my life in hand

Try and make me understand

It won't do no good

You'll just hurt my plan

And I won't be hangin. round your door

Beggin’, beggin’

No I won't be hangin’ rond

To feel the pain

Sometimes I think I can't go on

And every day I live

Well it seems like my life's unreal

Sometimes I think

I won't live too long

But I hope I'm wrong

That's the way I feel

“I Fall to Pieces” is a straight country tearjerker with a fine traditional steel guitar accompaniment plus fiddle. She does a moving version of Woody Guthrie’s “Ramblin Round” with banjo and fiddle. The album also includes a gorgeous live recording of Neil Young’s “Birds,” sung in a tender, restrained voice with Sneaky Pete on an expressive steel guitar, plus other guitars. Her voice is so powerful, but she can also sing soft beautifully, as on this song.

Lover, there will be another one

To hover over you beneath the sun

Tomorrow see the things

That never come today

When you see me fly away without you

Shadow on the things you know

Feathers fall around you

And show you the way to go

It's over, it's over

Next is a recording of Eric Anderson’s “Faithful” that won’t stop running through my head long after I’ve heard it – “Though I have not always been faithful/I always have been true.” She followed that album with Don’t Cry Now, which has my vote for her best, though Linda Ronstadt is still my sentimental favorite. Don’t Cry Now just makes my spirit soar. It was her first big seller, with 300,000 copies. The cover has a closeup with her arms crossed over her knees sitting like she knows who she is with the same intent look as on her eponymous album. It begins with John David Souther’s “I Can Almost See It,” a deeply soulful ballad that still makes my heart feel things I’d never felt before I heard it. The song selection and emotional power of her singing on Don’t Cry Now is superb. Linda Ronstadt’s got soul!

It hurts to say goodbye

And when the words are going by

The wind can blow them right back in your eye

You can almost see it

Time will let you know

And when you turn around to go

The aching in your heart begins to show

You can almost see it

You can almost see it going by

Sneaky Pete’s steel guitar plays lead on this song, with an expressiveness that makes it almost orchestral, as it is on a number of her songs. What he plays rarely sounds like the good-old-boy Nashville steel guitar you hear on most country music. It’s accompanied by electric guitar and a wonderfully soulful harmonica played by Jimmy Fadden of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. The song is followed by “Love Has No Pride,” sung with great feeling but not quite the quiet softness that Bonnie Raitt brings to it, although vulnerability flavors almost everything she sings. Her voice gives it more power, with a great electric guitar, but voice drops so softly through the last verse that the vulnerability of the song comes through.

I've had bad dreams too many times

To think that they don't mean much anymore

And fine times have gone and left my sad home

And the friends who once cared just walk out my door

But love has no pride when I call out your name

And love has no pride when there's no one to blame

I'd give anything to see you again

I've been alone too many nights

To think that you could come back again

I've heard you talk

She's crazy to stay

But this love hurts me so

I don't care what you say

Perhaps the best song on the album is her cover of the Eagles’ “Desperado.”

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?

You been out ridin’ fences for so long now

Oh, you're a hard one but I know that you got your reasons

These things that are pleasin' you have hurt you somehow . . .

Well it seems to me, some fine things

Have been laid upon your table

But you only want the things that you can't get . . .

Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone

Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?

The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine

It's hard to tell the night time from the day

You're losin' all your highs and lows

Ain't it funny how the feelin' goes away?

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?

Come down from your fences, open the gate

It may be rainin' but there's a rainbow above you

You better let somebody love you

Let somebody love you

You better let somebody love you before it's too late

The Eagles’ version is excellent, but the song seems more poignant sung by a woman, especially by Ronstadt. She belts out the stanza starting with “Don’t your feet get cold in the wintertime,” and “Let somebody love you” but sings others with a tender softness – like the first verse and the last line particularly, where “late” approaches a whisper. It has a nice piano accompaniment by Spooner Oldham and is enhanced with background singers Clydie King, Shirley Matthews, and Marti McCall in the last verse. The song stays with you long after it ends.

“Don’t Cry Now” is my favorite song on the album, a slow ballad that’s another J D Souther tune. The title seems to run counter to the spirit of much of what she sings, but the way she sings it is full of sensitivity and compassion with no judgment.

If you've ever been taken for money

If you've ever gone down with your pride

If you've ever stood up for a good friend and lost

You know that the river is wide

Like a painter who waits for the sunrise

With a picture in both of his hands

It's like part of your life is already begun

With something that you don't understand

Don't cry now

Ohh, don't cry now

Don't cry now

No don't cry now

It feels like a hope rather than a prohibition. It’s accompanied by Spooner Oldham again on piano, the superb Larry Calton on guitar, but Buddy Emmons on steel instead of Kleinow and Wendy Waldman singing nice harmony on the chorus.

Ronstadt favors songs full of heartbreak, but in interviews and in films about her she doesn’t come across as a sad-sack at all but rather as a frank straightshooter with a sharp sense of humor, something evident in her songs as well. Her humor and outspoken nature surface in the later “Poor, Poor Pitiful Me” and here in Randy Newman’s “Sail Away,” although it’s dark and satiric humor as Newman’s song has a slave trader trying to talk a young “little wog” African into going to America with transparently facetious promises of how good it will be. Ronstadt had done a Newman song on an earlier album, but it’s surprising to hear her take on such cutting satire. She’s backed by black backup singers King, Matthews, and McCall again.

In America you get food to eat

Don't have to run through the jungle and scuff up your feet

You just sing about Jesus and drink wine all day

It's great to be an American

Ain't no lions or tigers, ain't no mamba snake

Just a sweet watermelon and a buckwheat cake

Everybody is as happy as a man can be

So climb aboard little wog and sail away with me

Sail away (sail away), sail away (sail away)

We will cross the mighty ocean into Charleston Bay

Sail away (sail away), sail away (sail away)

We will cross the mighty ocean into Charleston Bay

In America every man is free

To take care of his home and his family

You'll be as happy as a monkey in a monkey tree

You're all gonna be an American (gonna be an American)

She does a great version of Rick Roberts’ “Colorado” (not to be confused with the Stephen Stills song of the same name) that aches with deeply felt regret and longing of someone who is deciding he made a mistake leaving for life on the road and wanting to go back home. It’s accompanied by nicely restrained electric guitar and equally gentle steel guitar by Kleinow that again sounds like a different instrument than typical steel.

Hey, Colorado

It was not so long ago

I left your mountains

To try life on the road . . .

Colorado

Is it too late to change my mind

I've done some thinkin’

And I'm trying hard to find

A way to come back home

'Cause I've been so very long alone

Won't you take care of your own?

Colorado

I think I'm comin’ home

I also love the Booker T Jones and Bill Williams song “Everybody Loves a Winner,” another slow heartbreak song with nice horn accompaniment as well as electric and steel guitar by Richard Bowden and Ed Black. “Everybody loves a winner/But when you lose, you lose alone.” She finishes with Neil Young’s “I Believe in You,” with lyrics describing a puzzling relationship.

Now that you find yourself losing your mind

Are you here again?

Finding that what you once thought was real

Is gone and changing

Now that you made yourself love me

Do you think I can change it in a day?

How can I place you above me

Am I lying to you when I say

That I believe in you

Oh, oh, oh, oh I believe in you

Don’t Cry Now was followed by Heart Like a Wheel, which Ronstadt said was the first album that was made the way she wanted, working with the first producer, Peter Asher, who she didn’t have a relationship with and the first she felt treated her like an equal. She was a singer with definite ideas about what she wanted and forceful about stating them, but it wasn’t until Heart Like a Wheel that she felt like she fully got what she wanted. It produced her biggest hit ever, “You’re No Good,” which rose to #1 on Billboard’s Top 100 Singles chart. It’s a statement song, giving notice that the singer is not just some chick hanging on to a bad relationship until the man leaves her heartbroken. The strident guitar solo is by Andrew Gold, a multi-instrumentalist who also plays piano, drums, and percussion on the song. He would go on to play extensively on two more of her albums.

Feeling better, now that we're through

Feeling better 'cause I'm over you

I learned my lesson, it left a scar

Now I see how you really are

You're no good

Baby, you're no good

The other hit from the album is Anna McGarrigle’s vulnerable “Heart Like a Wheel,” a perfect song for her expressive and powerful voice. But the volume on the piano and strings doesn’t let her voice really carry the song the way it should. Anna and Kate McGarrigle’s version on their eponymous first album is better, with a simple and slow banjo accompaniment and Anna’s singing is full of vulnerability. But Ronstadt’s singing is pure, backed by Maria Muldaur.

Some say the heart is just like a wheel

When you bend it you can't mend it

But my love for you is like a sinking ship

And my heart is on that ship out in mid-ocean

When harm is done no love can be won

I know it happens frequently

What I can't understand oh please God hold my hand

Why it had to happen to me

“Faithless Love” is another J D Souther song, accompanied by a simple banjo played by Herb Peterson, piano by Gold, and harmony by Souther on the chorus.

Faithless love like a river flows

Raindrops falling on a broken rose

Down in some valley where nobody goes

And the night blows in

Like the cold dark wind

Faithless love like a river flows

Faithless love where did I go wrong

Was it telling stories in a heartbreak song

Where nobody's right and nobody’s wrong

Faithless love will find you

And the misery entwine you

Faithless love where did I go wrong

The title is perplexing – if “nobody’s right and nobody’s wrong,” what does “faithless” mean? Maybe he’s saying that love is faithless rather than the lover. Ronstadt’s singing has the power and emotion of the best songs on Don’t Cry Now. “Dark End of the Street” has powerful singing as well, and an electric guitar sounding like it’s careening out of control, like the guitar itself is drunk – reminiscent of the Flying Burrito Brothers’ Gilded Palace of Sin album.

One of the treats of the album is her cover of the Everly Brothers’ “When Will I Be Loved,” with a driving drumbeat by Russ Kunkel and great guitar by Gold. It’s a fast-paced, infectious rocker that lingers in your head. She also does a very convincing job on Lowell George’s “Willin,” about a trucker hauling whatever back and forth from Mexico even though no one would imagine her in that role. She sings it with gusto and conviction.

I been warped by the rain, driven by the snow

I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know

But I'm still willin'

Out on the road late last night

I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight

Alice, Dallas Alice

And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari

Tehachapi to Tonopah

Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made

Driven the back roads so I wouldn't get weighed

And if you give me weed, whites and wine

And you show me a sign

And I'll be willin' to be movin'

Hank Williams’ “I Can’t Help It If I’m Still In Love with You” is done as pure country with traditional county steel guitar by Sneaky Pete and harmony by Emmylou Harris. She ends with James Taylor’s “You Can Close Your Eyes” and a mournful ballad by Paul Craft, “Keep Me from Blowing Away,” a tender and gentle plea backed by different musicians.

But soon all the good times, the gay times and play times

Like colors run together and fade

Oh Lord if you hear me, touch me and hold me

And keep me from blowing away

Well there's times when I trembled

When my mind remembered

The days that just crumbled away

With nothing to show but these lines that I know

Are beginning to show in my face

Oh Lord if you're listening, you know I'm no Christian

And I ain't got much coming to me

So send down some sunshine, throw out your lifeline

And keep me from blowing away

Oh lord if you hear me, touch me and hold me

And keep me from blowing away

Prisoner in Disguise is a beautiful album that starts off with Neil Young’s “Love Is a Rose,” a catchy tune and engaging piece of philosophy with banjo by Herb Peterson, David Lindley on fiddle, plus harmonica and hand claps. I always like hearing this upbeat song. It’s a country tune, but with a strong beat that makes it rock. Kenny Edwards, her old partner from the Stone Poneys, plays bass on most of the songs on Heart Like a Wheel and this album.

Love is a rose but you better not pick it

It only grows when it's on the vine

Handful of thorns and you'll know you've missed it

Lose your love when you say the word mine

I wanna see what's never been seen

I wanna live that age-old dream

Come on, boy, let's go together

Let's take the best right now

Take the best right now

It's followed by James Taylor’s “Hey Mister That’s Me Up on the Jukebox,” which is also a favorite for me, though any listener would have their own preferences.

Hey mister that's me up on the jukebox

I'm the one singing this sad song

And I cry every time that you slip in one more dime

And play me singing the sad one, one more time

Southern California, that's as blue as a girl can be

Blue as the deep blue sea, won't you listen to me now?

I need your golden gated cities like a hole in my head

Just like a hole in my head, I'm free

The album has a wonderful cover of Smokey Robinson’s “Tracks of My Tears,” sung with power and conviction about the heartbreak of a lover hiding under a smiling face.

People say I'm the life of the party

'Cause I tell a joke or two

Although I might be laughing loud and hearty

Deep inside I'm blue

So take a good look at my face

You know my smile looks out of place

If you look closer it's easy to trace

The tracks of my tears

The standout song on the album is the title song, “Prisoner in Disguise,” a slow ballad which rivals any of her best songs – “Desperado,” “Don’t Cry Now,” “I Can Almost See It,” “I Won’t Be Hangin’ Round,” “Keep Me from Blowing Away,” and “Birds.”

You think the love you never had might save you

But true love takes a little time

You can touch it with your fingers

And try to believe your eyes

Is it love or lies?

And so you're keeping your distance

A little bit of room around you

But if he doesn't return your call on time

Oh my my, you just act like a fool on a holiday

There's nothing that you wouldn't try

You must be a prisoner in disguise

Well this night life is my life

But there's no one else in it

And sometimes those lonesome breezes blow

But it's no show so you might as well go

If you think you could win it

Without losing and letting it show . . .

You must be a prisoner

You look just like a prisoner

Well you must be a prisoner in disguise

She sings it with a voice that absolutely soars but stays tender at the same time, especially on the last two lines, sung beautifully and quietly with J D Souther. The simple accompaniment includes piano, woodwinds, and strings. It’s as good as anything she’s done. It’s followed by the all-out Motown rocker “Heat Wave,” which she belts out at high speed that dispels any doubt about her ability to sing great rock and roll. Andrew Gold plays every instrument except bass.

“Many Rivers to Cross,” a slow reggae ballad by Jimmy Cliff, covered by many other musicians, is a big change of pace and genre shift, with Gold playing multiple instruments.

Many rivers to cross

But I can't seem to find my way over

Wandering I am lost

As I travel along white cliffs of Dover

And this loneliness won't leave me alone

It's such a drag to be on your own

My baby left me and he didn't say why

Well, I guess I'll have to try

She would go on to record three more good albums in much the same vein with a remarkable versatility and breadth of song selection: a big hit with Roy Orbison’s “Blue Bayou,” Willie Nelson’s “Crazy,” an excellent cover of my favorite Ry Cooder song “Tattler,” the Rolling Stones’ “Tumbling Dice,” Buddy Holly’s “That’ll Be the Day,” Warren Zevon’s comic “Poor Poor Pitiful Me,” the traditional cowboy song “Old Paint,” Oscar Hammerstein’s “When I Grow Too Olds to Dream,” Chuck Berry’s “Back in the USA,” and even a 7 ½ minute version of Bob Dylan’s “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues.”

She took a huge risk with her career that she was advised against by her record company in enticing Frank Sinatra’s most successful bandleader Nelson Riddle out of retirement to record an “unorthodox and original” Great American Songbook album of songs from the 20s to 40s to much critical acclaim. What’s New was so successful she recorded two more, Lush Life, and For Sentimental Reasons. Time magazine called it "one of the gutsiest, most . . . unexpected albums of the year." As a result, she‘s been credited for reviving the Great American Songbook jazz tradition in American pop music, prompting similar albums by many, including Bob Dylan and Boz Scaggs. What’s New spent 81 weeks on the Billboard Album Chart and held the #3 spot for a month-and-a-half behind Michael Jackson’s Thriller and Lionel Ritchie’s Can’t Slow Down.

That was perhaps the most risky career move she’s made, but she also proceeded to record an album of Mexican corrido numbers, Canciones de Mi Padre (songs of my father), that became a huge bestseller in Spanish-speaking countries and the bestselling non-English language album in American history at two million copies, plus a jazz bum titled Hummin’ to Myself that reached #2 on the Billboard’s Top Jazz Albums Chart and sold 75,000 copies, and forays into classical music, including La Boheme for Joseph Papp. And she played a lead role in Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance opposite Kevin Kline on both Broadway and in the movie version, winning Tony and Golden Globe nominations for both. She was nominated for 28 Grammy Awards and won 12. Ronstadt's last known live Grammy Award appearance was in 1990 when she and Aaron Neville performed "Don't Know Much" together on the telecast. "Whenever I sing with a different artist, I can get things out of my voice that I can't do by myself.”

These unusual forays into types of music other than country rock were not out of the blue. She has said that she grew up listening to all these kinds of music in her home as a child, including her mother’s Gilbert and Sullivan records and her father’s singing Mexican corridos. She has been critically and commercially successful with everything she’s done except for opera. But opera has influenced her – “I learn more . . . about singing rock n roll from listening to Maria Callas records than I ever would from listening to pop music for a month of Sundays . . . She's the greatest [female] singer ever." She has also said all female singers “have to curtsy to Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday." She’s not a songwriter, having written only three songs, but the breadth of her repertoire and genre mastery surpasses even Dylan’s and anyone I know of in the last century – no one else comes close.

Brett Nelson