The Band.

I seem to remember tension between Robertson and Helm on the sentiment of that song, but I don’t remember the specifics.

Robertson had been reading books and thought the Civil War was just about slavery, so Helm had to sit him down and explain through a southern lens the political picture of the time.

That song, I always listened to it as the root of what Patterson Hood would term "The Duality of the Southern Thing."

Yeah, and the narrator of that song may not have even particularly given a shit about the Confederacy per se (the further from the cotton, the more likely that was). But when the Union finally showed up, they sometimes decimated the farm, town, etc. (likewise the Confeds on occasion). Scorched earth, yeeha.

Wanna read this, got me interested in Canada of 50s-60s, though prob most about him x Dylan, as indicated below:

http://www.wsj.com/articles/on-the-road-with-dylan-1478900285
By
WESLEY STACE
Updated Nov. 11, 2016 6:08 p.m. ET
Robbie Robertson, the lead guitarist and main songwriter of the Band, is in the unenviable position of never having been much of a singer. (He posits asthma as a factor.) Luckily, the Band was blessed with three of the greatest vocalists of the rock era (Rick Danko,Richard Manuel and Levon Helm), who were able to give his beautiful melodies and lyrics their fullest possible emotional expression. In “Testimony,” however, the “voice” is not in question. Robust, wry, gritty and wise to the vicissitudes of a career in rock ’n’ roll, it is just what the reader wants, marred only occasionally by stiff dialogue.
TESTIMONY
By Robbie Robertson
Opening with a train ride, Mr. Robertson captures the rhythm of rock’s mystery train, even its final lurch into the terminal. In this memoir named for a song from his solo debut, Mr. Robertson bears witness to his life in music, from his precocious success in Ronnie Hawkins’s “raging rockabilly” Hawks to that band’s historic involvement in Bob Dylan’s mid-1960s “explosive electric sacrilege”; the subsequent retreat to Woodstock, N.Y., for the “loose as a goose” sessions with Mr. Dylan that became known as “The Basement Tapes” to the group’s rebranding as the Band, whose career climaxed, as this book wisely does, with “The Last Waltz,” a 1976 concert in San Francisco that was filmed by Martin Waltz,” a 1976 concert in San Francisco that was filmed by Martin Scorsese.
“Testimony” comes 23 years after drummer Levon Helm’s memoir “This Wheel’s on Fire,” notable partly for its extremely negative portrayal of Mr. Robertson. Of that book, Mr. Dylan enthused: “You’ve got to read this!” The blurbs here are by Mr. Scorsese and David Geffen, neatly delineating the great divide in the Band. But after the deaths of Manuel (suicide, 1986), Danko (heart failure, 1999) and Helm (throat cancer, 2012)—which triumvirate he often pits himself against in his memoir—Robertson is one of the two men left standing (along with keyboardist Garth Hudson). His may be the last word.
The haphazardly collaborative nature of the Band’s work, and the natural disinclination of most of the members to deal with business, led to arguments over songwriting credits, a feud that
Helm took to the grave. Resentments had long simmered: The film “The Last Waltz” seemed contrived to put Mr. Robertson center-stage, as the genius Mr. Scorsese clearly believed him to be, yet he was the only member of the Band who actually wanted that Waltz to be the Last. His Band-mates were happy to play on, and this was by no means the final Band concert, though it was the last to feature Mr. Robertson. If you saw a later incarnation of the group, you heard precisely what you would have wanted to hear: the singers singing their beloved songbook accompanied by a great rhythm section. If anything, one later felt the lack of Manuel more than of Mr. Robertson.
Half-Jewish, half-Mohawk, Jaime Royal Robertson was brought up on the streets of Toronto and on the Six Nations Indian Reserve, where he was “introduced to serious storytelling. . . . The oral history, the legends, the fables, and the great holy mystery of life.” The reader might suppress a groan, but add to the mix a steel-trap memory and a muddled childhood—featuring two fathers, numerous gangsters, alcoholism and some diamond smuggling—and you have the makings of a Dickensian bildungsroman.
“Testimony” next becomes a bible of road lore, a lurid coming-of-age story that veers wildly between the sweet and the brutal and a how-not-to guide to running a band. The Hawks, formed at the whim of Arkansawyer Ronnie Hawkins, who enjoyed regular residencies in Toronto, take off on the road, and the craziness of these early days is presented in brilliant Technicolor, with Helm cast as blood brother and Hawkins as amoral Virgil. A 16-year-old Mr. Robertson, too young to frequent any of the joints he’s playing, descends into an underworld of torched nightclubs (the arsonists thoughtfully remove Leon Russell’s band’s equipment before they light the match), bitten-off nipples (word to the wise: Don’t “taste her milkshake” while traversing bumpy terrain in the back seat of a car) and a vast choice of artificial stimulation.
As for Mr. Dylan, a key attraction, the book offers a refreshing account all the better for starting no earlier than the recording of “Like a Rolling Stone,” to which Mr. Robertson was escorted by producer John Hammond Jr. in 1965. Here is by far the fullest first-person account of the early electric tours of Mr. Dylan, not to mention an astonishing tale of a “passed out sitting up” Mr. Dylan, “deliriously exhausted” after the final date of the emotionally and physically exhausting 1966 tour, whom Robbie and Mr. Dylan’s manager, Albert Grossman, try to revive him in a bathtub (returning once to find him submerged) while four Beatles await an audience in the adjacent hotel room. The account of Mr. Dylan’s 1966 motorcycle accident is refreshingly lucid, as is that of the subsequent making of “The Basement Tapes,” as the Band improvises around Bob’s “vibing vocables.”
The Nobel Prize winner himself will probably not opine on Mr. Robertson’s livelier claims, among which is that he clothed Mr. Dylan (the classic ’66 houndstooth tweed: “Bob didn’t seem like much of a suit guy, but Lou [the designer] was on top of his game”); suggested the iconoclastic cover design of “Blonde on Blonde”; gave Mr. Dylan’s song “Obviously Five Believers” its title, adding that witty adverb—both positively (4th Street) and absolutely (Sweet Marie) something Mr. Dylan might have come up with himself; finished the editing of Mr. Dylan’s film “Eat the Document”; taught the neophyte rocker how to stretch guitar strings to keep them in tune; and saved Mr. Dylan from his musical self (by refusing to clutter the sparse perfection of “John Wesley Harding” with the requested overdubs). And of course he is responsible for creating the circumstances, and ambience, that brought the “The Basement Tapes” into existence. I am not suggesting that these claims aren’t true, merely that the abundance of them becomes slightly comical.
Occasionally one has the impression that Mr. Robertson is tiptoeing around awkward issues, always to the detriment of the book: Helm’s 1993 account of the various delegations sent in to get Mr. Dylan onstage at “The Last Waltz” is agonizing (the singer didn’t like it assumed that he had given his consent to being filmed, fearing a conflict with a forthcoming movie of his own, “Renaldo and Clara,” shot the previous year). But Mr. Robertson barely scratches the surface, preferring to deal with the technical problems involved in creating the movie.
Mr. Robertson’s writing about music, either from inside looking out or simply from the point of view of an audience member at a Bo Diddley or Velvet Underground concert, can be beautiful, as when, in the closing pages, he pays full tribute to each Band member and their role within the overall sound, repeating, as if in litany, “God only made one of those.” Here “Testimony” becomes a testimonial, and the effect is redemptive. Generosity suits him, and whatever the truth, “Testimony” is a graceful epitaph.​
—Mr. Stace is an author and musician who has also recorded under the name John Wesley Harding.

the narrator of that song may not have even particularly given a shit about the Confederacy per se (the further from the cotton, the more likely that was). But when the Union finally showed up, they sometimes decimated the farm, town, etc. (likewise the Confeds on occasion). Scorched earth, yeeha

Which is also why the song strikes me as a veiled Vietnam commentary, even if that was totally not Robertson/Helm etc's intent.

If so, it’s a very bad analogy

No that can fit: scorched earth, shock 'n' awe, vengeance, random outbursts, calculated trauma, in a lotta countries, lotta wars. Ditto rape and pillage as perks, at least the first night.

But back to the Band--what are the best solo albums/side projects? Best Band albums without Robertson?

Dude -- the overall treatment of civilians in (a) Sherman's March to the Sea and (b) The Vietnam Fucking War were highly dissimilar.

i feel like Jericho was well-regarded when it came out but i don't really fuck w/ the Band too much after Cahoots

Jericho has the Springsteen cover right? That version of Atlantic City has come close to becoming canon for the Band.

yeah it's really good

or "AC" is, i should say. i'm sure i've heard more from Jericho but I can't say specifically what

Just gave it a listen and "Jericho" goes on a little long, and too many of the songs seem to intentionally echo past Band work. But on the plus side, it sounds pretty good, and the singing and playing are good. The guitarist, Jim Weider, does a pretty solid Robertson impression.

What a weird messy post-band history the Band had. You've got Robertson, who tried to snag all the credit, yet didn't release a solo album until 1986, with an album that sounded absolutely nothing like the Band, for that matter. The other guys scattered or, tragically, worse, and never got much momentum going. Danko managed that one album, Hudson went more or less journeyman session guy, Levon did a few albums here and there and tried acting; his solid late career recording comeback came after a 25 year gap. When the Band did reconvene to record those 17 or so years after breaking up, for "Jericho," the songwriting was almost all from outside sources, which was a strange way to counter Robertson's claims.

Maybe Ophelia should be higher idk

watching the classic albums doc on the self-titled right now. that album truly holds a special place in my heart.

glad you picked jawbone. what a weirdly enchanting little ditty.

the way it switches to the waltz time in the verses and lets loose during the chorus, along with the switch in lyrical perspective...

Manuel had some great cowrites with Robertson

he was something else, "Sleeping" is such a strange beauty

jawbone is so amazing

Jawbone has such a deep country funk. I respect the rest of the Band's canon, but I am and always have been deliriously in love with the s/t album. Fortune was smiling on them when they recorded that.

Robertson had been reading books and thought the Civil War was just about slavery, so Helm had to sit him down and explain through a southern lens the political picture of the time.

Ah the danger of reading books.

When Robbie went down to Arkansas from Canada he couldn't read. Levon made him woodshed with books until he had built up a basic literacy. After touring with Dylan, Robertson could really read, pretty much anything, but by then he was pretty sick of reading. That's why there's not a lot of reading on Band albums.

The Danko album had some good tracks, but I was more impressed pverall by the band he brought to Soundstage, the old Chicago PBS show: 50-odd minute sets, back to back, no bathroom breaks (at least in the version televised, and his crew certainly had no prob being on the same bill w Graham Parker & The Rumour, who were at their peak (this was late 70s, maybe '80). Don't remember who was in the band, but saw him on another thing in that era w Butterfield, who was maybe here for this.

There was an interview where Robertson mentioned sitting crammed into the backseat, with Hawkins at the wheel in the boondocks, and R was reading a paperback of From Here To Eternity: purty cool and wonder if it gave him some ideas for songs.

but I was more impressed pverall by the band he brought to Soundstage, the old Chicago PBS show: 50-odd minute sets, back to back

alfred otm but man

stampeding cattle
they rattle the walls

is dire

i can't get over this video

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaKD1Vdarnw

i usually feel like singing drummers look sort of awkward or even dumb but man is levon one cool motherfucker

That version of "King Harvest" is amazing. The guitar solo is one of my favorites ever, by anyone.

So weird to see RR pre-Telecaster. Also, is he wearing finger-picks?

i also appreciate how much crisper the drums sound in this version

great recording, Robbie looks like such a chilled hipster

I thought Robbie was wearing shorts for a minute, there. Eech.

some days the band is my favorite band, i guess this is gonna be one of those days

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/flashback-ringo-starr-and-his-all-starr-band-play-the-weight-251846/

Or just:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=187&v=bNpcms4UdMA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNpcms4UdMA

^Features Levon, RIck and Garth, along with a cavalcade of RIngo's All-Stars.

Seems like there are not one, not two but THREE drummers up there: Levon, Ringo and Jim Keltner.

I'll let you figure out for yourself who is the surprise guest vocalist/pianist taking one of the verses.

RIngo and Jim seem to do some fills along with Levon - it's almost like Antmusic.

When I saw that opening guitar playing I thought, huh, that person knows what they are doing. And ... of course it's Nils.

yup

Just rewatched video of him playing "Purple Rain" for the first time since it happened but was a little afraid to.

xxxpost, Robertson's misgivings were justified to an extent: no doubt some Johnny Reb headz heard "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" as tons of sobs for the Lost Cause. When I play it on my radio show, I'll follow it with Isbell's "White Man's World" and "Danko and Manuel."

Cool. Are you talking about something you read in Testimony?

No, a discussion upthread, but mis-remembered re Robertson's misgivings, sorry, should have re-read. Still, the proposed song sequence seems good, even though I don't have a radio show.

actually went and looked for that radio show but all I could find was an on-air personality with your same last name.

Timely revive, as I discovered today that the vinyl copy of the s/t I got on eBay was delivered to someone else at the wrong address way the hell across town.

I'm usually put off by ensemble 'all star band' stuff, but damn you can't deny that above clip.