A list (in no particular order) of my 500 favorite songs (singles, deep cuts, hits, and more) of all time. Includes a wide array of selections from rock, punk, funk, R&B, soul, classical, jazz, folk, and world music.
"Funk" is not necessarily what comes to mind when one thinks of The Band. Yet, it's hard to characterize "Up On Cripple Creek" from 1969's The Band as anything else but funk. Between Levon Helm's syncopated drum licks and Garth Hudson's inventive use of a wah-wah pedal on his clavinet to create a jaw harp sound, the song is rooted in rhythm. The astounding part to me is that Helm was able to put down his soulful, Southern-fried vocal while simultaneously kicking that beat. It's the musical equivalent of patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time. But as the ever-humble Helm (RIP) noted in the Classic Albums: The Band documentary from 1997, he actually preferred to drum when he sang. "People give me good credit, and I appreciate it. They think it's harder to play when you sing, but it's actually easier because you play along and you leave holes, and there's where you sing."
"The Weight" is one of those songs that sounds like it always existed. It's so ubiquitous that it's hard to believe that it was written by a rock band* in the late 1960s instead of hardscrabble coal miners, field hands, or railroad workers in the late 1860s. And the plethora of Biblical references (Nazareth, Moses, Luke, the Devil, and Judgment Day) definitely help lend it an air of timelessness.
The lyrics are built around what's called a "journey motif" in the world of literature. (Thank you, Joan Ideker and your senior AP English class.) The everyman narrator is sent to Nazareth by Ms. Fanny with a seemingly simple task: convey her regards to the people there. But along the way, things get complicated: he can't find lodging, discovers Ms. Fanny's friend Carmen engaged in some sort of immoral activity, and gets saddled with taking care of Crazy Chester's dog, among other things. In the end, his enthusiasm for carrying out Ms. Fanny's task has faded, and he decides it's time to leave Nazareth and head home.
The lyrics taken as a whole paint a surreal tableau of the American experience, where people still hop trains and carry their earthly belongings in a bindle on a stick, and where the physical and metaphysical worlds blur into one.
The music itself also captures a sound that is steeped in Americana without fitting into any particular genre or period. The late Levon Helm's vocal (and the late Rick Danko's, too, for that matter) is as indebted to Ray Charles as it is Woody Guthrie. Helm's drumming also resides in a charmed space somewhere between "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" and Fats Domino's "Blueberry Hill." And then there's Garth Hudson's quarter-note pulse on the acoustic piano, which is as pure Southern Gospel as you can get.
It's easily one of the best songs of the 1960s.
(*Despite guitarist/songwriter Robbie Robertson still claiming sole credit for the song, I'm inclined to believe Helm's assertion in a year 2000 interview with journalist Larry Getlen: although Robertson came up with the core of the song, the entire band contributed to the composition—particularly Hudson.)
The previous entry, Etta James's "I'd Rather Go Blind," was co-written by Etta James and her musician friend Ellington Jordan, who was serving time in prison and pining for freedom. In a similar vein, "I Shall Be Released" is a Bob Dylan composition, written from the perspective of someone who is in prison, reflecting upon his incarceration and waiting for his release. At least, on the surface "I Shall Be Released" is a song about a prisoner counting the days until he regains his freedom. Another read of the lyrics reveals a deeper examination of the human condition and mortality, where the "prison" is our earthly body and the ultimate release is death. In addition to Dylan's masterful lyrics, The Band's masterful interpretation of the song is the reason it appears on this list. Ultimately, the song is more than the sum of its parts--just like The Band itself. There's Richard Manuel's falsetto lead vocal and heavily reverbed piano that both float, weightlessly, above the song. Then, there's Levon Helm's percussion. I'd always assumed that he had somehow created that slow march rhythm by using brushes against his snare drum. Years later, I discovered he got that sound by strumming the wires on the back of his snare, almost like a banjo! Next, Rick Danko's bassline has a melodicism and sense of movement that is one part Beethoven and one part James Jamerson of Motown's Funk Brothers. But my absolute favorite part of the song is Garth Hudson's wah effect on his Lowrey organ. It is so subtle that it's almost easy to miss or mistake for some kind of envelope filter on a guitar. (The only guitar on the track is Robbie Robertson's straight-ahead strumming in the right channel.) Hudson creates this ethereal backdrop that expands and contracts--it literally breathes as the song goes along. It's a genius touch that only a genius could execute. Although Music from Big Pink is a hard album to cherry pick for favorites, this one is a standout.
