In the final chapter of my, and Robbie's, account of his apprenticeship years, an encounter with two of Helena's finest threatens to turn nasty, and a summons comes down from on high
I had never seen or for that matter heard of the Carnegie Hall program of ‘Bob Dylan’ and ‘Levon and the Hawks. But I can say that by the time they hit Berkeley in early December of that year, there wasn’t boo or a hiss or even a sigh to be heard. On the West Coast the feeling was, ‘Well, what took you so long?’ People figeted during the acoustic first half and gaped and all but levitated when he came back with this five piece band—Levon gone by then, Bobby Gregg, who’d played on ‘Like Rolling Stone,’ in his place. Allen Ginsberg ushered a bunch of Hells Angels into the front row but even that didn’t take the bloom off. I couldn’t take my eyes off Rick Danko. The long break in ‘It ain’t Me Babe’ was so hallucinatory—I thought I saw the roof of the hall lift off to show the sky, and that was just the music—that after it was over any memory of the song was completely erased, except for the sensation that something once in a lifetime had happened. Decades later I heard bootleg of the show but was afraid to listen to that song I was worried it wouldn’t live up to my shadow memory. But when I heard it I said, ‘Oh, now that makes sense. Sure.’
Interesting. Are you sure it wasn't Mickey Jones on drums? I should just look it up. If they were hip enough on the West Coast to dig Zimmy plugged in , they sure hated him when he and Hawks hit the European leg--unless that's exaggerated. Robbie did say to me that it got almost amusing, that is, the crowds' reflex action. "We plugged in and they booed." Simple as that. The audiences seem to have been waiting for the guys to plug in, just so they could vent thrir spleen. Probably had other problems, bad home lives, etc.
I remember the October '65 Carnegie show vividly, even though I was only 10 (the perks of having a journalist father who could score tickets). Robbie hit his solo on "Tombstone Blues" and the PA system screamed and shut down. Dylan and the Hawks went offstage, smoked a joint, while Carnegie's tech guys tried to fix the freaking sound system.... Levon was a musician/entertainer by nature; he played to move an audience, and when they rejected his hard work and what he knew to be his substantial talent, he said, "This ain't worth it" and went home.
Robbie was no angel, nor was he a villain. I don't know the inside scoop, but in my book, he did nothing unforgiveable. We spoke in '94, three years after that Musician interview, and he said he still loved Levon, and that he could completely understand how someone who wasn't doing all that well could have such unbridled resentment. I also spoke to Levon, at length, in the mid-90s, but that's a whole nuther story.
I had never seen or for that matter heard of the Carnegie Hall program of ‘Bob Dylan’ and ‘Levon and the Hawks. But I can say that by the time they hit Berkeley in early December of that year, there wasn’t boo or a hiss or even a sigh to be heard. On the West Coast the feeling was, ‘Well, what took you so long?’ People figeted during the acoustic first half and gaped and all but levitated when he came back with this five piece band—Levon gone by then, Bobby Gregg, who’d played on ‘Like Rolling Stone,’ in his place. Allen Ginsberg ushered a bunch of Hells Angels into the front row but even that didn’t take the bloom off. I couldn’t take my eyes off Rick Danko. The long break in ‘It ain’t Me Babe’ was so hallucinatory—I thought I saw the roof of the hall lift off to show the sky, and that was just the music—that after it was over any memory of the song was completely erased, except for the sensation that something once in a lifetime had happened. Decades later I heard bootleg of the show but was afraid to listen to that song I was worried it wouldn’t live up to my shadow memory. But when I heard it I said, ‘Oh, now that makes sense. Sure.’
Interesting. Are you sure it wasn't Mickey Jones on drums? I should just look it up. If they were hip enough on the West Coast to dig Zimmy plugged in , they sure hated him when he and Hawks hit the European leg--unless that's exaggerated. Robbie did say to me that it got almost amusing, that is, the crowds' reflex action. "We plugged in and they booed." Simple as that. The audiences seem to have been waiting for the guys to plug in, just so they could vent thrir spleen. Probably had other problems, bad home lives, etc.
I remember the October '65 Carnegie show vividly, even though I was only 10 (the perks of having a journalist father who could score tickets). Robbie hit his solo on "Tombstone Blues" and the PA system screamed and shut down. Dylan and the Hawks went offstage, smoked a joint, while Carnegie's tech guys tried to fix the freaking sound system.... Levon was a musician/entertainer by nature; he played to move an audience, and when they rejected his hard work and what he knew to be his substantial talent, he said, "This ain't worth it" and went home.
Robbie was no angel, nor was he a villain. I don't know the inside scoop, but in my book, he did nothing unforgiveable. We spoke in '94, three years after that Musician interview, and he said he still loved Levon, and that he could completely understand how someone who wasn't doing all that well could have such unbridled resentment. I also spoke to Levon, at length, in the mid-90s, but that's a whole nuther story.