It’s a hot, rainy Friday evening in New York City when I find myself standing outside the Iridium Jazz Club, waiting to interview Garth Hudson and Jim Weider of The Band. Typically, Hudson is late, so I sit down by the bar and watch Weider and his band soundcheck a very sloppy rendition of The Band classic “Rag Mama Rag.”
Nearly an hour late, Hudson strolls in decked in black from head to toe, with his signature beard hanging midway down his chest and a heavy leather jacket—it’s nearly 100 degrees outside—that has the word “Burrito” scrawled across the back in big red letters. He proceeds to set up his gear, then disappears backstage as showtime quickly rolls around.
The musicians, sans Hudson, take the stage shortly after the scheduled time—a miracle considering Hudson was onstage only minutes before completing his soundcheck—and quickly settle into some fantastically groove-oriented instrumental jazz jams. Half way through the set, Weider welcomes Hudson to the stage, and after a deafening applause, the legendary organ master emerges and begins playing a solo medley of various tunes and jingles as he slouches and, at times, nearly topples over from excessive leaning. Following the intro, the band launches into a reggae version of “The Weight,” before running through Bob Dylan’s “Looks Like a Woman” as well The Band classic “Rag Mama Rag.” Surprisingly, they pull off a spot-on take on the latter tune, with Weider mimicking the lead vocal lines on his 50s telecaster.
Once the set comes to a close (the first of two that evening), Hudson’s people usher me into the backstage room of the club where I find Weider scribbling out the next setlist, while Hudson lurks over a steaming cup of coffee with a corncob pipe hanging out of his mouth. When they tell Hudson I’ll be doing the interview, he looks up at me and says in his deep growl, “him?”
But after I’m introduced to Hudson, I tell him that I’m a fellow Canadian and went to school in London, ON where he grew up. Upon hearing this, he immediately comes to life and begins reminiscing about the city’s geography and his childhood growing up just one block from where I spent my junior year.
“I grew up on Boroughdale,” recalls Hudson. “We used to toboggan down the hill where the music college is now.” This side of Hudson is one that is rarely seen, and one that has rarely been discussed as a result of his well-documented interview shyness. But for some reason, Hudson seems perfectly comfortable chatting with a fellow Canadian in the dimly lit backstage room of the Iridium. Within moments, the discussion turns to Toronto’s geography, and, before long, Hudson is telling one of his many legendary tales about meeting Dylan for the first time at the notable Toronto club the Concord Tavern.
“From the Concord we would go south to Arkansas, Texas and play various places and that was something too. A few stories there. Then we’d go back to Toronto, maybe to the Concord, which is at Bloor and Ossington in Toronto. [The Band’s former road manager] Bill Avis was at [Levon’s] funeral, and we were talking about old memories and what was funny was that it’s surely more important than any other time or vignette or story. I said, ‘Bill do you remember driving down on the sidewalk, knocking over garbage cans so that everybody wouldn’t get fined? Ronnie [Hawkins] would fine you eighty bucks or a bottle of whiskey if you were late, or for other infractions.’”
While few know the true Hudson, in the short time I had the pleasure spending with him, he proves himself to be a deeply focused, intelligent man with an unexpected, yet witty sense of humor. His fascination with things like my iPhone, caligraphy and narrative recording methods prove to me that he has hardly lost a step, but, instead, like many of the great artists of our time, is living under a veil of constant mystery.
Once we get to chatting, I ask Hudson and Weider how they first met, and before long the two are completing each other’s sentences as they reminisce about the good ol’ days in Woodstock, NY.
“I was working in a stereo store in Woodstock, NY,” says Weider. “Garth came in one day and brought in the first record [by The Band], Music From Big Pink, and the owner Kermit Schwartz put it all the way up. The first thing I heard was Garth’s organ.”
“That’s right, Jimmy,” Hudson chimes in. “Around ’83 we put together the latter day Band. I don’t how we chose [Jim]” he adds referring to the reformed version of The Band, which featured Weider in place of original guitarist Robbie Robertson. “I wasn’t there when we decided I don’t think. It was through Levon [Helm] and Rick [Danko],” explains Hudson. “Scaling down wasn’t the reason we chose Jimmy, I’m sure. Levon had always been right. He’s always been right about anybody that is participating. He could look at someone and with a minimum gesture and indicate that something should happen. Apparently Duke Ellington was the same, you know. He just had to look at somebody and they knew what he meant.”
“I had been playing with Levon and Rick in Levon’s All Stars,” adds Weider. “We did a gig at The Getaway, this club up in Woodstock, and Garth and the guys were going out on the road with Crosby, Stills and Nash in ’85. Levon called me up and said ‘Jim, come on down we’re playing The Getaway to warm up The Band.’ So I went and sat in and played the whole night. Then Levon called me about a week later and said, ‘come on out, we’re going to bring The Band back out to five people.”
Photo by Sarah Snow
Weider remained with The Band until the group’s dissolution following the untimely passing of founding bassist Rick Danko in December of 1999. But their paths didn’t stray far from one another in the years that followed. In 2009, Weider rejoined Helm as a member of The Levon Helm Band, performing as the guitarist at the famed Midnight Rambles at Levon Helm’s Studio, affectionately known as “The Barn.”
“The Midnight rambles are just an experience if you’ve never been there,” says Weider. “It’s all about the music and all the musicians there are top notch. Everybody plays as a unit. Levon really liked that as a band—he wanted everyone to play as a band, as a unit supporting each other. People will shine and go out, and go in and out.”
It’s clear that this is something that Weider has brought to his own Project Percolator, which features some of the most talented players on the scene including Rodney Holmes (Santana, Brecker Bros) on drums, Jason Crosby (Robert Randolph Band) on keys/violin, Steve Lucas on bass and Avi Bortnickon (Jim Scofield Band) on guitar. “It doesn’t get any better than these guys,” boasts Weider.
As the conversation turns toward Helm’s tragic passing in May of this year, both players become noticeably emotional as they recall memories of their fallen friend, and, in many cases, mentor.
“Levon was the craftiest, foxiest drummer in the Southeast,” recalls Hudson. “All the pictures you see of him, he’s smiling—most of the time. If you go through Levon’s book, the square one, he’s smiling a lot. In fact, he’s smiling most of the way through. Incredible. The moustache had something to do with it. He was a good spirit who had a voice that’s instantly identifiable. Really, nobody sounds like him.“
Right up until the end, Helm hosted regular Midnight Rambles at The Barn. These musical showcases presented an opportunity for the drummer to collaborate with many of his new and old musical peers, and, not surisingly, it’s where both Hudson and Weider last performed with Helm.
“It was a Midnight Ramble with Los Lobos,” says Weider about his last show with Helm. “[Levon] played great. We hung out with Los Lobos and we had a laugh and talked. It was just great.”
“I played with Levon a month before that, or two months before you played with him, Jimmy,” adds Hudson. “Jimmy Vivino was performing songs that they don’t regularly do, ya know, or let’s say not as well known…So Levon sat in and played the last four songs of the night. We went back and we were talking about how you keep the attention of thirty hot shot keyboardists and how you keep them from cheating on exams. I remember Howard [Johnson] came up to Levon and said ‘you sure look swell’ or ‘you sure sound strong tonight,’ and Levon smiled. That wasn’t too long ago. That would be now, four months ago, five months ago. He looked terrific.”
Moving forward, Weider plans to work on a new album with his Project Percolator. Hudson, on the other hand, continues to perform as a special guest at concerts and festivals around the globe, and is also working on a new project of sorts.
“I’m always writing,” says Hudson before going on to explain what that really means. “I’d say, to make it brief, writing a manual—logistics, priorities, things of value, how to, and why. The reasons for that is the benefits of our desire to collect and make a deliberate effort to collect short samples, which can be done easily on cassette. And then we get into the discussion about what is friendly to the composer, collector, apprehender…So we’re saying, ‘go for it, grab it, and add it to your collection, however you do it.’ If you have only a memory and you can’t write, remember where you found it. Write down the radio station if they didn’t announce who it was, and look for fragments, so you’re apprehending beauty.”
While it’s unclear exactly what Hudson is describing, it’s apparent that he is committed to the project. Once again, he tries to further explain the process.
“It’s an underlying methodology. One of the exercises I have exercises four part voice leading, string arranging, anything to do with the music industry. Composition means you’re parsing, you’re, you know, names of words. It’s what we would call a study for songwriting and those who believe that someday they might have to speak in front of an audience. So we’ll call it literature.”
