We got off at an exit marked Saugerties. Then west on Route 212 until we turned right onto Pine Lane. It was late on an autumn afternoon, the maples and oaks were glowing orange and red, and I couldn’t take my eyes of Overlook Mountain and the rolling terrain. We’d driven by the Catskills a few times on the way to the Peppermint Lounge, but this was my first time in the Woodstock area. From that first day, the Catskills reminded me of the Ozarks and the Arkansas hill country. I had a shock of recognition. Going to Woodstock felt like going home.
– Levon Helm, This Wheel’s on Fire
For a musician, the Ramble is “one sweet gig,” says Brian Hollander, Woodstock Times editor and a member of the Saturday Night Bluegrass Band. For him, part of that was the extra heapin’ helping of hospitality given to opening acts, but the other part — the immaculate acoustics and perfect mix — could be appreciated by anyone. I was advised to stand on the tier above and behind the band, where one of the two sound guys was stationed. The sound really was amazing — whisper-quiet verses shone through crystal clear, and the rousing, full-band choruses peaked at a level above conversation but well clear of tinnitus. A Chance show this was not.
Not that you’d mistake it for one. Aside from the clarion-not-cacophonous sound, the face value of a single ticket could have paid the way for a half-dozen skinny-jeans wearing, side-parted-hair-draped-over-one-eye-styling emo teens. The average Ramble attendee might not have been quite the right age for the original Woodstock festival, but their older sibling was. The crowd mostly stayed in their seats, exchanging spontaneous smiles and clapping with the snare drum when the song called for it. A few of the younger Ramblers danced lasciviously in the aisles, but they didn’t seem out of place for bucking the trend; more like the late-night love birds at a damn good wedding reception.
The music Levon’s band plays is the same kind of music American folk, country and rock ‘n’ roll bands have been playing since at least the invention of the phonograph. Led by the dazzlingly talented Larry Campbell on Stratocaster and, apparently, any other instrument he deigns to pick up, this band can swing. There’s a glorious brass section (Clark Gaytor on trombone is so good he actually makes that instrument cool), rollicking piano by Brian Mitchell, vocals by Amy Helm (Levon’s daughter) and Theresa Williams. Plus you never know who’s going to show up for one of these things: Emmylou Harris, Garth Hudson, Elvis Costello — Levon’s got friends.
This band is tighter and softer than the sometimes ramshackle but always harmonious music of The Band, but its timeless sound and ensemble ethos are the same. It’s Levon’s place, but everybody gets a chance to shine.
Plus the sound those horns make with that bass thumping underneath, with the whole group singing over it. That’s the American fusion that came out of the Mississippi Delta by way ofNew Orleans,MemphisandChicago. It’s not an original sound to be making it 2011, but you sometimes get the feeling that everything that came after was a footnote to it — like all philosophy after Plato. And Levon’s band can tap into that sound as well as anybody.
