My sister had (and has) extremely good, diverse and often ahead-of-the-curve taste in music. As the younger sibling, I left music to her; I was largely indifferent to pop music until I discovered punk and New Wave. At last, something to call my own. (Only I really couldn’t, as my sister had been listening to the New York Dolls all along. Foiled again!)
Late, as always, I went to see “The Last Waltz” in 1979, a year after its release and, IIRC, three years after the concert it documented, a farewell performance by The Band. I became a fervent fan of a band I could never, would never see. Richard Manuel died, then Garth Hudson. (I think I have the order right.) Rick Danko. Now there are only two, Levon Helm and Robbie Robertson, and I don’t think they have much to do with each other.
I won’t lie. As a schoolgirl, I wasn’t impervious to Robertson’s charm. But I wasn’t so smitten that I didn’t see that he couldn’t sing for shit. Plus, I really resented the intrusion of Neil Diamond in “The Last Waltz,” which Robertson engineered. In the time of records, I used to dream about a technology that would allow me to skip, always and forever, Diamond’s version of “Dry Your Eyes.” Such a thing seemed pretty pie-in-the-sky.
Saturday night, I sat in a barn in Woodstock, NY and watched Levon Helm perform at one of his so-called Midnight Rambles. He sang “The Weight” and “Rag, Mama, Rag,” among many others. We didn’t get there early enough to get the best seats, but we had good-enough-seats, three rows back, which afforded an excellent view of Helm’s face as he played the drums and sang. As someone who came to The Band’s music when they were already broken up, this was not something I ever expected to see. And, true, it was just one man of five, but I wouldn’t dream of complaining. He appeared to be having the time of his life.I know I was.
Looking for memories of experiences that you never thought you would have, pinch-me moments when you couldn’t stop grinning for the miracle of it all.
>Saturday night, I sat in a barn in Woodstock, NY and watched Levon Helm perform<
I have no words. This *must* have been magic. Wow.
“…couldn’t stop grinning for the miracle of it all.”
When I think of it, I always label it one of the ten best nights of my life. I brought a friend and fellow theatre lover, Becky, (in from Texas) to see “Romeo & Juliet” as a surprise one perfect summer night in Central Park at the Delacorte. Becky had never seen a show there before and it can be magical when the beauty of the outdoors and the beauty of Shakespeare’s words join as one. After the show, Becky and I, along with two other friends went to the stage door (well, at the Delacorte, “stage gate” is more accurate) and the security person, after allowing us into the cordoned off special guest area, announced over the loudspeaker to the backstage area “Austin Pendleton, Marjorie and her party are here to see you”. Mr. Pendleton, who was playing Friar Laurence, is a favorite actor/director/writer of mine and I have gotten to know him a bit over the years. He was expecting us after the show, but I had kept it a surprise for Becky as part of her special New York City experience. It gives me pleasure to arrange special experiences for friends. After introductions and nearing midnight, the group walked through the dark foot paths, Austin in the lead, and we went to a small, posh restaurant just outside the park called North West. Oh, the conversation flowed. The laughter flowed. The wine flowed. Austin is a great storyteller (does anyone use the word raconteur anymore?) and I acted as a sort of mistress of ceremonies. I felt like I was Oprah in a way, guiding the conversation, but also trusting in the conversational gifts of everyone at the table. I was with a group that I had gathered together, I was succeeding in wowing Becky with the evening and I was delighted to be sitting at a table with Austin. We talked about theatre and Yale and music and all the sorts of things that I rarely get to discuss in the course of a normal workday in real life. I wish I had the words to truly describe the memories of the experience. It was heaven. And the next day I couldn’t stop grinning when I thought about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And when I called Becky she said that she had felt the same way. A very special evening.
November 3 was one of those pinch-me, can’t-stop-grinning-for-the-miracle-of-it days for me — and quite a few other people too. I honestly can’t think of any personal experience that trumps that shared-with-the-world experience.
Isn’t Levon Helm also an actor? And wasn’t he in that three-burials-of-a Mexican-named-guy-I-wouldn’t-attempt-to-spell-at-gunpoint movie?
I know I could look this up, but I don’t want to.
He’s definitely acted — Coal Miner’s Daughter, that 1980s film based on Joyce Carol Oates’s short story.
He was also in SHOOTER, the Mark Wahlberg film based on Stephen Hunter’s Bob Lee Swagger novel POINT OF IMPACT.
I just watched it tonite.
I believe Levon had throat cancer sometime in the past 15 years and is back. His recent album DIRT FARMER is great. I wish I could sing like him. One of the great voices of Rock n Roll.
I couln’t stop grinning on opening day in DC in 2005 when baseball finally returned to our nations capital.
And at 51, when I stood on stage for the 1st time ever with a guitar and mic and did two songs for 150 people. The grinnin never stopped.
Austin Pendleton is very cool.
That early morning in our apartment in Somerville, that morning in February 1990 when at 5 or 6 or 7 in the morning, i sat inches from my television set and watched as Nelson Mandela walked out of prison as a free man. i actually pressed my hand to the tv screen. i could not believe the miracle that I saw happening.
I can’t say the same for election night because I was crying too much to brin. I just sobbed as i sat there with my friends, watching it happen. i still well up. If i could stop that, I’d be smiling, but for some reason, I just sob. It gets me that way.
It figures I would remember this as I get ready for my year-end choir concert. Last year, said choir performed as part of a 60th anniversary celebration of the State of Israel at Carnegie Hall, and a number of prominent Jewish singer/songwriters, soloists and cantors took part – including Theodore Bikel. He was great and charming in the performance, of course, but what floored me was witnessing him in the dress rehearsal. He came in, wearing Dockers-with-suspenders and a work shirt, did take after take of the songs he had to sing with the choir, and then he rehearsed a quiet ballad in Hebrew called “Layla, Layla” (Night, Night – not to be confused with Clapton’s tune) that was clearly a well-established part of his repertoire. You could tell he’d done this a zillion times but there, in the rehearsal, at what had to be 70% effort at best, he still had the entire room of choristers pretty much in jaw-dropped-suspension of animation.
It was amazing. Until a few people tried to capture it on YouTube and were warned off because, well, that just wasn’t professional.
And now Theo’s doing a one-man show I totally want to see.
ETA: Why this resonated? Because I grew up listening to Bikel’s recordings, um, religiously. He was and is the model of interpretation regardless of what language he chose to sing in. And through and through you could tell he’s a pro.
Huddling backstage waiting with a group of Todd Rundgren worshippers for an interview with Todd for a just-born local music magazine (before the word “zine” was coined). The most amazing five minutes or so talking with such a nice guy. And even more amazing, the following year, backstage again, when Todd saw me and asked how the magazine was doing. Just the coolest thing ever.
Hi! COAL MINER’S DAUGHTER is based on Loretta Lynn’s autobiography, not a Joyce Carol Oates short story. Or maybe I’m missing a joke, which wouldn’t surprise me. Helm plays Lynn’s father, and he’s very good. As for my moment, well, Laura, you would be too embarrassed and modest and all if I told.
Cary Grant. During the last few years of his life he made one appearance a year at a different university, this time at Johns Hopkins’ Shriver Hall.There was no script; the entire presentation was Q&A. He was erudite, clever, funny, suave, all of the things the wannabees such as George Clooney hope to be. There was never a moment of disappointment because he seemed to have all of those characteristics one would have thought had been witten for him in his movies. Miraculous might overstate the evening, but it was one I never expected to experience.
Jack: That’s bad punctuation/writing on my part. I’m trying to refer to two films, Coal Miner’s Daughter AND the movie with Laura Dern/Treat Williams. I think it was called “Smooth Talk” and it was based on “Where Are You Going? Where Have You Been?”
The theater critic at the Sun once interviewed Grant, perhaps during this very event, June. J. Wynn Rousuck was (and is) a consummate professional. However, she was thrilled to get a note from Grant after the interview, which used her first name.
It began: “Judy, Judy, Judy.” Last I heard, it was in a safe deposit box.
Another famous Baltimore letter, which may or may not have been signed by Robert Zimmerman, was sent to the Baltimore Police Department, inquiring after the actual events surrounding the death of Hattie Carroll. That letter is referenced in another letter, explaining that the “New York-based folk singer” is seeking information about the case, and asking Baltimore police to help. But the original letter has been stolen. Or liberated, depending on one’s point of view.
P.S. Congratulations to Jack Pendarvis for making the San Francisco Chronicle’s list of the best fiction and poetry of 2008, for his novel AWESOME. Which is — aw, don’t make me say it.
“memories of experiences that you never thought you would have”
Getting free (FREE!) tickets to see Pearl Jam at a small venue (a recital hall at Purdue; can’t remember the name of it). A fellow at work won them off of a radio station, and the show was a weeknight (a Thursday, I think) and when he offered them to me, I snapped ‘em up! It was beyond wonderful, including when Eddie Vedder solemnly informed us there was a bomb threat, and anyone who wanted to leave certainly could. Amidst uproarious laughter, no one headed for the doors – and the show leapt forward.
Other than that, shaking Michelle Obama’s hand was the climax of an altogether marvelous “experience I thought I’d never have”, in Fort Wayne, Indiana, amidst a presidential camapign wherein our state actually mattered! (also got to shake the hand and joke with the woman who is now the head of Homeland Security(?) – Janet Napolitano – while waiting in line for the Obama event to begin)
“…and then he rehearsed a quiet ballad in Hebrew called “Layla, Layla” (Night, Night – not to be confused with Clapton’s tune) that was clearly a well-established part of his repertoire. You could tell he’d done this a zillion times but there, in the rehearsal, at what had to be 70% effort at best, he still had the entire room of choristers pretty much in jaw-dropped-suspension of animation.”
Oh how lovely. i can imagine the rehearsal and how it felt. I actually know that song and now it will be playing in my head today – that is a very good thing, given what usually plays! (I know it as “Laila, Laila” which helps with the confusion, i think. And it IS fascinating that someone who’s done “the song” so many times can infuse it with life and meaning. And to make it weird, I just “googled” the song to try and figure out whose version I know and came across “Laila Laila” the perfuse. Go figure.
Experiences I never thought I would have, reminded of by some of these posts: Standing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the site of King’s I had a dream speach, talking to two of the people who were providing security for him. That in front of over 800,000 people standing on the Mall, for a demonstration in Suport of Women’s Lives. I was one of the organizers and co-chairs of the event. Followed closely by Peter, Paul and Mary singing to the crowd, about fifteen feet away from where I was standing.
I didn’t think I would experience that.
Experiences I can’t forget: Seeing/hearing Mahalia Jackson at Carnegie Hall while I was in high school, being in Washington, D.C. in 1963 with my family at the occasion of Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream Speech,” seeing Alvin Ailey dancers with Judith Jamison doing “Cry” years ago. There’s more but it’ll take awhile for the memory cells to kick in.
Seeing Barack Obama and Michelle Obama on stage on election night was pretty amazing, too. And, of course, I agree about Nelson Mandela’s freedom from prison.
Hope the new year is filled with memorable moments.
Kathy D.