FUV Essentials: Rita Houston on The Band

I've always loved The Band. They opened up musical doors in so many directions for me. I once had a fish named Crazy Chester. They were Bob Dylan's band and they were the first band I was a geek about — the more I knew about them, the more I wanted to know.

I dug into their influences too. Through The Basement Tapes, I found the Anthology of Folk Music. From "Long Black Veil," I dug into vintage country songwriting. But this original Americana band, an unlikely combination of four Canadians and one guy from Arkansas, was local — they sprung from New York's backyard, in the Catskills.

Looking back now, you can really see how different The Band was from everything else that was happening in the late '60s. It wasn't fame or glamour they were seeking. They weren't looking outward, or showing off; they were looking within, gradually and respectfully building a catalog of songs. They looked to each other to do right by the music. Like Bob Dylan, this ragtag group of scrubby guys defined their own terms and authenticity: they even donned Civil War garb for their album art.

It wasn't just the songs, but their sound that drew me in. There was something I loved right away about the soulful vocals and seamless harmonies of the multiple lead singers: Levon Helm, Rick Danko, and Richard Manuel. Whether it was a ballad, a rocker, or a roots song, they did it all with a lack of pretension.

The brightest gem in the rough that The Band left for us is The Last Waltz. One of the greatest rock docs ever and essential viewing for any new fan of music, they organically created one of music's best history lessons. (I played it to school our guitar-playing nephew when he was 15. He got it.) What other band could have assembled a range of artists to bid them farewell like Muddy Waters, Neil Diamond, Neil Young, poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Van Morrison and Joni Mitchell?

The influence of The Band continues to loom large with artists like Gomez, the Counting Crows, Joan Osborne, Phish, and the Felice Brothers. Even The Hold Steady claim that they formed while watching The Last Waltz.

I'm proud to say I've gotten to meet and work with some of these extraordinary artists. I first fell in love with the voice of Mavis Staples listening to The Band, and she's become a treasured friend. Robbie Robertson and Rick Danko have come to WFUV over the years, multiple times. But the one who really breaks my heart whenever I think of him is Levon Helm. Someone once said that Levon is the only drummer that could make you cry, and I agree. I can still picture him behind his drum kit, his head turned to the side toward the mic, singing "Up on Cripple Creek" or "Ophelia." The passing of Levon hit us all hard. I'd been to some Midnight Ramble shows up at his Woodstock Barn, I even sat at the kitchen table with him after a show.

The Band always attracted the best musicians to play with them, and with bandleader Larry Campbell, the last chapter of Levon's life was a rich one, where he did some of his best work. Thanks to the love and care of his friends and family — especially his stellar daughter, Amy Helm, a powerful musician in her own right — Levon kept playing and singing (when he could) while fighting cancer, right to the end.

There is a musical magic that still lives on at that Woodstock Barn, born in the songs of my low-key '60s rock heroes, The Band. They will always remind us why authentic music will always survive.