Yesterday when I got the news I started to write a death notice. The angle I took was that he was the rare big star rocker who chose to fade away. He was on two great, successful albums in 1968 and ’69 as a member of The Band; he exited from rock and roll in 1976 in a big show filmed by Martin Scorsese; then he spent 40 years going out with a whimper scoring sound tracks. He famously said he didn’t want to travel playing old hits. The result, I thought, was that he saved some dignity but nobody was going to miss him. If one wasn’t 18 in 1969, you wouldn’t care.
Today I saw I Robertson’s obit started on the front page of the New York Times, then filled the last page of the front section. I clearly underestimated the continuing power of the folks who worship Bob Dylan. Dylan liked Robbie, even doing a star turn in The Last Waltz. Robertson got the big rock star treatment despite not having done much since Woodstock because in 1966 when a fan yelled ‘Judas’ at Dylan for performing with amplified instruments, Robbie did indeed play it fucking loud, as Dylan requested. It is an odd legacy. I have oodles more to share about Robertson and The Band.
converselyspeaking 