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Music Review
The Night They Drove Old Man Trouble Down
Levon Helm performing with his band at the Beacon.
By JON PARELES
Published: March 10, 2008

Rahav
Segev for The New York Times
Routes from the Appalachians, the
bayou, Texas, Chicago, Memphis, New York and New Orleans converge at
a geographically unlikely but historically proven nexus: Woodstock,
N.Y., where Levon Helm has a home studio in a barn. Mr. Helm, 67,
played drums and sang in the Band, which recorded “The Basement
Tapes” with Bob Dylan and made its indelible debut album in
neighboring West Saugerties, N.Y. He has been putting on monthly
concerts in Woodstock called Midnight Rambles since 2005. At those
shows, Mr. Helm leads a core band while friends drop in, and lately
he has taken the idea on the road.
On Friday night, starting a two-night stand at the Beacon Theater,
the Levon Helm Band’s show was a romping rock-R&B-country-blues
revue. It had guitarists (Larry Campbell and Jimmy Vivino) who
dispensed ragtime, blues-rock and more; a five-man horn section that
played soul riffs and raucous traditional jazz; female singers
representing country, soul and rock; and a repertory spanning a good
stretch of the 20th century.
In a way, Mr. Helm was unraveling the strands of American music that
he and the Band had entwined. Nearly all the songs were old, from
the Band and from the Americana archives. And many were forlorn,
whether they were honky-tonk weepers or jovial shuffles. They were
bound by Mr. Helm’s stalwart yet flexible drumming and, often, his
backwoods yowl of a voice, fully recovered from throat cancer. After
more than two hours onstage — drumming, singing, playing mandolin —
a grinning Mr. Helm stood up and did jumping jacks.
Mr. Helm’s drum kit was placed sideways on the band’s right flank,
making all the subtlety of his playing visible. He had the bedrock
timing and well-chosen patterns of a great roadhouse drummer, but
was never mechanical. He chose whether each cymbal tap would ring or
hiss, and he kicked verses toward choruses with a different
syncopated flourish every time around.
He didn’t sing the whole set. Other band members took turns and so
did guests including Phoebe Snow, belting high notes to please the
crowd; she sang Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic,” a song he recorded
in Woodstock. Little Sammy Davis, in a derby hat, sang the blues and
played harmonicas he pulled from pockets of his tuxedo. Teresa
Williams brought a true country twang to songs like “Long Black
Veil,” and Catherine Russell strutted through a song Marcia Ball has
recorded, “Soulful Dress.”
One Midnight Ramble regular was missing: Mr. Helm’s daughter, Amy
Helm. She’s a member of the opening band, Ollabelle, but she just
gave birth to his grandson, named Levon. (Her husband, Jay Collins,
played saxophone in the horn section.)
Mr. Helm performed only a few songs from “Dirt Farmer” (Dirt Farmer
Music/Vanguard), the Grammy-winning acoustic album he released last
year. One was “Anna Lee,” a stark waltz about a mother’s death,
accompanied only by Mr. Campbell’s fiddle and mountain-harmony
vocals from Ms. Williams and Ms. Russell. But most of the set was
upbeat, with the horns pumping up the party spirit. For the Levon
Helm Band, the way to face trouble is with a clear gaze, a steady
backbeat and an ornery voice.
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