BandBites, Volume I, No. 2, March 1, 2007.
Copyright © 2007 by Carol Caffin. All Rights Reserved.
You gotta give Jim Weider credit: With the spectre of Robbie Robertson looming large above him, and in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, the Telecaster wiz took -- and successfully held -- the reins as lead guitarist of The Band throughout the better part of the 80s and 90s.
Being saddled with the dubious honor of "replacing" the legendary Robertson, who'd called it quits with The Last Waltz, would have been a daunting task for any musician, but Weider, who'd grown up in the shadow of Big Pink, who'd idolized The Band as a teenager, and who'd witnessed their progression from legends-in-the-making to bona fide, larger-than-life icons, emerged from his nearly decade-and-a-half tenure unscathed and sounding better than ever.
Weider's success with The Band and his acceptance by both peers and fans are due largely to the fact that he never tried to replace Robbie Robertson. He loved and respected the music of The Band and, if anything, particularly in the early years, he paid homage to The Band's original guitarist by staying true to his licks and arrangements. Still, though, he continued to forge his own solid musical identity, hone his inimitable playing style, and become a valued and respected member of The Band -- honoring the group's no-nonsense, no-bullshit, no-fluff, no-bells-and-whistles approach to performing and recording.
The last time I saw Jim was, sadly, at Rick's funeral in 1999. So I was happy to talk to him once again under much more pleasant circumstances. He's excited about his new music, and about his upcoming European tour. "I've been writing different music," he told me. "It's more instrumental groove music, and atmospheric music. We're stretching stuff out a bit."
That doesn't mean that he's forgotten The Band. "I still do 'The Weight' in the show, but we do it with a Reggae groove, and we really jam it out," Jim said. "I'm having fun musically now. I think people will really dig it. Band fans will like it and young, new fans will like it, too."
CC: You were born and raised in Woodstock, right?
JW: Yeah, actually right outside of town, but right in the Woodstock area.
CC: Do you want to tell everyone how old you are?
JW: Do I want to... ?
CC: I wouldn't worry, I'm sure you're young compared to those guys. [laughs]
JW: [Laughs] Yeah, I was always the young guy, and then it was Rick. And then Richard I guess. Actually, Richard might have been younger than Rick. But they were pretty close if he was. But anyway, I was the youngest when I joined. And those guys were just a little bit older than me.
CC: When were you born? You're being a little evasive, now. [laughs]
JW: [Laughs] I was born in 1951.
CC: Oh, that's a baby compared to you-know-who. When did you start playing?
JW: I started playing... well, you know, my father played a little guitar, I had a guitar in the house and then my uncle made me a little amp out of a radio and I stuck a pickup -- you could buy these pickups that were like transducer pickups -- I stuck it on my father's acoustic guitar when Chuck Berry and all that stuff was out. I'd say I was around 11 or 12 years old when I got into playing. As soon as I could pick up a guitar and play a few Ventures licks, I just got some buddies together and got in a band. And we did high school dances and little beatnik parties.
CC: Who were your first musical influences?
JW: Elvis Presley and Scotty Moore were the guys that got me into rock and roll. But I guess the early influences... well, you'd see James Burton on 'The Ricky Nelson Show' -- as soon as you could see it on TV... Chuck Berry on 'The Ed Sullivan Show.' Ed Sullivan brought the music to us and all the early music that you'd hear on the radio back then. So all those guys on the TV shows, and then hearing it on the radio, too. Then it slowly went from 50s acts to the British Invasion, groups like the Yardbirds, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones. Then I think I went from there to blues. I think I heard that before I heard the really old black blues.
CC: You mean the Yardbirds?
JW: Yeah, I'd hear the Yardbirds doing it [the blues]...
CC: And then you went backward, sort of?
JW: Yeah, then I went backward. Then I got into the country-rock, folk-rock thing and then, after Dylan, The Band, of course. And them being in my hometown -- they were living here when they did Big Pink and I would see the guys. I met Levon right when he first started The Band, when he was living here. I showed him my Telecaster and he really liked it. I was working at a stereo shop in town. I went over to his house and I hung out with him.
CC: So how old were you then?
JW: Oh, I had to be like 16 or 17 or something. He was like 12 years older than me. And that's when I first met them. I think it was after the Big Pink record. It was either around the Big Pink record, or they had the Brown Album out.
CC: Everybody's heard the stories about The Band in Woodstock during that time, but you had a really unique and interesting perspective, because you were here before they were. How were they perceived when they first arrived? Were they considered celebrities, or just cool guys?
JW: Oh yeah, there was this whole Bearsville Records/Albert Grossman thing. Albert managed them at that point, and he had this big studio that brought all the top musicians to town, like Janis Joplin. So there was this whole inner-circle scene here and, of course, I was a huge Band fan. I loved the music.
CC: Do you remember the first time you heard their music?
JW: The first time I heard The Band I was in Sled Hill Café, this café that all these great musicians used to come and play in Woodstock. I was upstairs and I heard 'Chest Fever.' I don't know if it was the radio or the record, but I went 'Wow, that's really different.' I really liked it and I got into it.
CC: Did you get into their music before you knew who they were?
JW: Yeah, that was it. I didn't know them and I thought 'That's really cool. Who is that?' And it was The Band, it was their first record. That was like, what, 1969?
CC: Sixty-eight.
JW: That was really cool and then I realized it was The Band, and they lived here. It was a great scene here -- Paul Butterfield was here, Van Morrison. And everybody was starting out. Rock and roll was changing and The Band was a big part of that Woodstock sound. That Dylan/Van Morrison thing. I guess you'd call it country rock, or country blues. It was a whole sound that I really loved.
CC: Did you think at the time this was happening that it was something monumental or did you just kind of go with the flow? Did you realize then how big, how significant this whole sound was or was going to be?
JW: I could tell that it was really special. I mean, Van Morrison was special, but he was a solo artist. But a band that had so many different singers and songs that were so great... for a band to come out that was different like that... they had rock and roll, blues, folk, and the songs were deep, you know? They were really strong as a band. It was different.
CC: Well, were you thinking then... I mean I'm sure you couldn't imagine that one day you'd be The Band's guitarist...
JW: No! [laughs]
CC: The notion may have been far-fetched at the time, but how did it actually happen?
JW: I had no idea then. I was off and running around. I think the last place I had been living was Atlanta. I'd gone down to Nashville with Ben Keith, who produces Neil Young. I was making a record up here with a songwriter, and I went to Nashville with Ben Keith, who was a great pedal steel player and producer, and ended up working with Johnny Paycheck and different acts down there...
CC: When was that?
JW: In the early '70s. And then I went to Atlanta and worked, and then I finally moved back here, and went on tour with my friend Robbie Dupree. And then Levon asked me to play guitar in the All Stars. I guess Artie Traum couldn't make it, so Artie called me up and I called Levon and I started playing with him. And then Rick moved back to town, and sometimes we'd go out just me, Rick, and Levon. And then Richard came back and it was me, Levon, Rick, and Richard. Then Garth moved back, and eventually, they asked me to go out with them on the first tour in '85. They went out with the Cates for a week. I had sat in with them the night before the tour, and without rehearsing, I played all the tunes. It was easy to follow for me. The music, of course, I knew it and I liked it. It felt good, and I had been playing with Levon. We did a show at the Getaway. Those guys went out, and a week later, they called me to play with them, and I was with them ever since.
CC: The show at the Getaway was just with Levon?
JW: No, it was with the whole Band. But it was Levon who really pushed for me to get in the group, which was great. He really opened up the door, he believed in my playing. So through him everything happened.
CC: I'm sure that it was difficult for you in the beginning because people assumed that you were trying to fill Robbie's shoes. But I think you really added a lot to The Band, as I'm sure a lot of others do.
JW: Well, thanks. At first, some would ask 'Where's Robbie?' but eventually, that stopped. The Band would just let me do my thing. I would play the trademark intro licks that Robbie wrote, which were great. But then I would just do what I always felt.
CC: I remember first being impressed by your guitar playing on "Deep Feeling."
JW: I actually recorded that on my first record. Levon turned me onto that.
CC: I thought you really had -- and have -- your own style. I really like what you did with The Band. And I think fans accepted you and appreciated you for yourself.
JW: Yeah, they did. And a million, million miles later, everything just kind of fell into place. You know, The Band had a lot of hard luck, but we did make a lot of great music and a lot of people happy, and I'm proud to have been a part of it. We had many, many memorable nights, like Carnegie Hall. We did it twice, and I really liked the first time we did it with J.J. Cale. Soldier Stadium two nights with The Grateful Dead in '95 [July 8 and 9] were two great shows for us. Those were Jerry Garcia's last shows with the Dead. The Band was at its height then, I thought, with Richard [Bell] and Randy [Ciarlante] in the lineup.. We did a lot of stuff. We played all over the place. But mostly we played a lot of clubs -- all over.
CC: Any favorite club shows?
JW: Oh, there were so many.
CC: The Lone Star shows were some of my favorites. I just thought they were so rowdy...
JW: Yeah, rowdy and it was like get down and dirty. And there were people wrapped around the building waiting to get in.
CC: Yes! I remember. It was the only place that The Band had this certain kind of sound...
JW: It was a circus!
CC: It was. It was very crazy. It seemed like you guys just let loose there. I don't know how it compares musically to the others, but I loved those shows.
JW: Oh, the Lone Star shows were great. Everybody from Dylan to Stevie Winwood to Jaco Pastorius sat in with us on any given night.
CC: Then there were your songs. Tell me about 'Remedy,' which you co-wrote. Was it written specifically for The Band?
JW: Yeah. I had this groove and this chorus -- 'you got the cure, you got the remedy', you know? And I got together with Colin Linden. He's such a great lyricist; he came up with some really cool verses. We wrote the rest of the music and I had no idea it was gonna be a single, or even if The Band would like it, but it was definitely written for the Jericho record. It was very exciting because it was the first time that I'd had anything published or recorded... and to be recorded by those guys, it was great. I was very honored that the guys did it. I was excited by it.
CC: Can you talk a bit about the guys? What made them special and what was their relationship with each other like? Anything you can share with fans about what they were like?
JW: They were very, very close. They really looked out for each other. It was a nice vibe to be on the bus and on tour with them. When people needed their space, they took it, but they really looked out for each other. When I wasn't feeling right, Levon would check in with me, he was right there for me. And the same with Rick. For some reason, I never slept and neither did Rick and we always bumped into each other. For the life of me, I don't know why, but whenever we were on the bus, we'd be on our way down some highway, I'd go to the bathroom and we'd bump into each other at the door. Every time! It was really funny. But he was a good guy. All those guys were good guys, and they really did look out for each other. Funny bunch, too. [laughs] There was a tremendous amount of laughing. It was a cool thing.
CC: Were you closest to Levon?
JW: Yes, I was closest to Levon, but Rick and I would hang out a lot also. He liked to go out more. [laughs] So, a lot of times in the early days, I'd hang out with Rick. We'd go out after the gigs or whatever. It used to be me, Rick, and Richard, 'cause we were the three youngest. When I first joined, the three of us would hang out, and Levon would keep more to himself. Garth took it a lot easier. He's got his own pace.
CC: So it sounds like they were all supportive of you individually and as a group.
JW: Yeah. They were together a long time. But they readily just let me do my thing musically, which was great, and they were very loose about it -- and very informative. I learned a lot about coming together and working as a band, as a unit, as a rhythm section. Rick would teach Randy about harmonies -- he was really into the harmony part. He would say 'try this harmony' or 'try that harmony.' Rick was really into the variations of where to place your harmony notes. Levon really concentrated on how to keep the rhythm section working good, and focused on how to groove as a band. It was a good learning experience.
CC: Do you think that there was a pecking order or a hierarchy in The Band?
JW: Oh, yeah. Levon ran the show. He would discuss stuff [with the others], but he was pretty much the leader. You gotta have a leader. Every band does. If somebody doesn't lead the pack, nothing ever gets solved. Somebody has to make the decisions, like 'okay, this is the way we're gonna do it.' I would say that he was definitely the leader.
CC: And you think the other guys were okay with it?
JW: Yeah. I mean somebody's gotta be the leader to run a band. Somebody's gotta call the final shots. Otherwise it doesn't get done.
CC: So what do you think about 'The Feud'?
JW: The feud?
CC: Yeah, you know, The Feud -- capital 't,' capital 'f'?
JW: Oh, 'The Feud?' You mean the Robertson/Helm feud?
CC: Yeah, that one.
JW: Oh, I thought that was old.
CC: Well, I thought it was 30 years old myself. But it's something that just won't die.
JW: I have no idea.
CC: Is it something that these guys talked about, or is it just something that fans talk about?
JW: I don't know. I mean, I forgot about that. I thought it was old news. I know how hard it is to write songs. Being a songwriter takes a lot of work. So whoever did write the tunes needs to get the credit. But I never heard them talk about it.
CC: Do you know Levon's side and/or Robbie's side? Or is it something you just never got into?
JW: I just never got into it. I really have no idea. I stay out of that one.
CC: Good for you.
JW: Being in the same room doesn't mean you wrote the song. But if you contributed a part that's undeniably a songwriting part, well then, you should have the credit. I know that sounds like a generic answer, but I have no idea about the past. All I know about is what happened since I was with them.
CC: Well, I appreciate that -- it's an honest answer. It's just something I wanted to ask, because it's something that fans continue to talk about and ask about. That said, in all the years with Rick I never heard him or any of them mention it, ever.
JW: Rick was such a humble, gracious guy. He always wanted to make everybody happy.
CC: Yes, he did.
JW: Unfortunately, I don't think he ended up making himself happy. He drained himself. It was devastating to me.
CC: I know. It's taken years.
JW: Yeah, it takes a long time. He had a lot of baggage. Losing his son really devastated him. I was there through all these things. And I think that, for any parent, is one of the hardest things... you never get over it. I don't think it helped. Unfortunately, he's not with us, but he's probably up there looking down from a fluffy cloud... hopefully, he's having a cappuccino or something. [laughs]
CC: I hope so... but maybe a decaf... 'cause he really doesn't need to be more hyper, right? [laughs]
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Eric Andersen Talks About Rick Danko, Festival Express, and DFA
BandBites, Volume I, No. 1, February 15, 2007.
Copyright © 2007 by Carol Caffin. All Rights Reserved.
I remember the first time I heard the name "Eric Andersen." It was the summer of 1982. I was just a couple months shy of my 20th birthday and accompanying Robert Hazard, then Philadelphia's hottest rising rock star, on a press junket to promote his new record. We hit every major rock radio station in Philly, a couple of newspapers, and a local TV news show. With my trusty tape recorder and notebook in hand, I interviewed him in the limo--en route to the "real" interviews--for my college newspaper. Unfortunately, my recorder ate the tape, but I retained my scribbled notes. Only two had any significance. One said "New female singer will record Robert's song 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.'" The other said: "Robert's biggest influence: singer/songwriter Eric Anderson [sic]." Hmm, I thought. I'll have to check him out.
I never did. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" became a huge hit for the "new singer," Cyndi Lauper, but Robert Hazard faded into oblivion and, with him, my mental note to check out Eric Andersen. Little did I know that, in just a few short years, I'd be working with Eric, helping to promote some of the most loved and critically acclaimed music of his career, his collaborations with Rick Danko and Norwegian singer/songwriter, Jonas Fjeld. It was Rick who, both directly and indirectly, got me into Eric's music. The now-famous Woodstock gig at Tinker Street Café that brought he trio together in the fall of 1990 started as just another show, but, as Rick said later, "there was magic in the air" that night.
I wasn't there for the Woodstock gig, but I got a taste of the magic when, in early 1991 upon returning from Norway, where the trio had recorded what would become Danko Fjeld Andersen, Rick called me and played a few of the songs on his guitar. One of the songs that struck me was "Driftin' Away." Rick also sang a bit of "Blue River" that night and, though written by Eric many years earlier, it seemed to be custom-made for Rick's voice. (As I recall, it was around that time that Rick slowly began introducing those songs into his onstage repertoire, not just in his solo shows, but in gigs with The Band. In fact, one of the first times I heard Rick perform "Driftin' Away" onstage was at one of The Band's Roadhouse shows in New York City.) Rick was excited about the songs, and I realized that this was more than just a collaboration -- it was a connection. "I want you to meet Eric," he said, kinetic and hyper as always. "You'll love him! He's great! He's a poet!"
Soon after, Rick introduced me to Eric and I began publicizing Eric's shows as well as Rick's, and working on promoting DFA -- without the benefit of an American release. That didn't stop us. The music was infectious; there was passion in those songs. So I wasn't surprised when the Norwegian recording began garnering airplay in major markets across the country, mostly from the few CDs I had and from second-generation cassette tapes that I dubbed myself. The momentum was incredible; it was a heady time.
It would be more than two years before Danko Fjeld Andersen would be released in the States. By then, two relatively new sub-genres -- and their requisite accompanying radio formats -- had been spawned: Americana and Triple A (originally called PAR, for Progressive Adult Radio). I had to laugh when these formats were touted as "new." After all, The Band virtually invented these formats with a little record called Music From Big Pink a quarter-century earlier.
Though I've talked to him intermittently over the years since Rick's death, I have not seen Eric since January, 2000, when we ran into each other at a music conference in Cleveland. It was just a month after Rick died, and I guess we were both still in shock -- and denial. All he could manage to say to me was "Blue Christmas, huh?" "Yeah," I said. "Blue Christmas."
These days, Eric, who turned 64 on Valentine's Day, is still busy touring and making new music. His latest CD, Blue Rain, recorded live in Oslo with members of the blues band Spoonful of Blues, is about to be released. Recently married to Inge Bakkenes and dividing his time between the Netherlands and New York, Eric is as productive -- and prolific -- as he's always been, and, ever the wandering troubadour, just as difficult to pin down. He called me from a train in Norway, where he was traveling with his 20-year-old son, Henrik. The chugging train turned out to be an oddly apt -- almost metaphorical -- backdrop for our conversation. "We had a strange experience here in Norway," Eric told me, and I sensed a sadness in his voice. "I came up to see my family here and [I heard] that a 20-year-old boy had jumped in front of a fast train. His girlfriend had left him the day before. And today, Henrik and I were at the station -- it happened at the same station -- and you could see his footprints in the snow going out but not coming back." Knowing Eric, someday that heartbreaking image will find its way into a song.
During our conversation, Eric's mood veered from existential to jovial, with Rick, even in spirit, providing some welcome comic relief every time things got a little heavy.
CC: What was your first awareness of Rick and The Band?
EA: I think I first met Rick outside the Continental Hotel in L.A., a hotel that a lot of musicians stayed at, probably in 1967 or 68. We hung out for a couple of days; I don't even remember what they [The Band] were doing. Maybe they were recording or doing a gig somewhere. I'm not sure; it's all in a haze. [laughs] But next to the hotel, there was a high-end used-car sales lot that had a chain-link fence. Rick found a car there that he liked. It was a green Karmann Ghia. And the next time I saw it, it was in his yard. He invited me to Woodstock to meet everybody in The Band and I went over there one day in the springtime, hung out for a few days, went up to everybody's houses and said hello. He introduced me; it was quite nice. I'd never been to Woodstock before, it was my first time.
Then I remember I played a festival, me and Townes Van Zandt; we were doing a lot of hangin' out at the time. I mean, I had seen Rick around, I'd run into him from time to time. There were actually many times I ran into him, but I remember one time, I was playing at a workshop at a festival in Canada, the Winnipeg Folk Festival, and I heard somebody playing music. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from; I thought I was hearing things. And it was Rick playing bass lines underneath the songs [laughs]. He was sitting down--I didn't even see him. He was substituting for somebody, but I don't remember who. Somebody couldn't make the gig, so they called Rick and he filled in and did a show. I didn't know that he was even there. Then of course we hung out at Festival Express [the famous 1970 trans-continental train tour of Canada featuring The Band, the Grateful Dead, and Janis Joplin].
CC: I'm sure that's a haze, too, but what do you remember about Festival Express? The shows, the train, the musicians?
EA: It was a whole train. The guy who produced it was a friend of mine, a family friend, Kenny Walker. I had done the Toronto Pop Festival and he just became my friend and he wanted to do something innovative. He was not afraid to take chances. So he rented a train for the musicians. And that's how Festival Express started.
CC: Do you remember everyone getting together, actually boarding the train?
What I remember is Rick ducking under a fence, coming from a car that had been chasing the train. He had a car follow the train, just waiting for it to slow down! It slowed down in a yard, and he jumped out of the car and just ran up the tracks to the train, and jumped in an open door [laughs]. He was a little late [laughs]. But better late then never! [laughs]
CC: Oh-my-God, Eric. So you're telling me he was late for Festival Express?
EA: Well, he was not late for the gigs. Just the boarding! [laughs] But it was just a wonderful time. Everybody was playing music and having a good time, just living on this train. Everybody had their rooms. There was a dining room. There were doctors on board if anybody had any energy problems. It was just one big, wild, fun thing. And the shows were great.
CC: How long did it last? Wasn't it cut short?
EA: Well, it was supposed to start in Montreal, but they had trouble with the separatists -- the Jean Baptiste thing. Then, the Vancouver date, they yanked that because the authorities were scared of cigarette burns on the Astroturf. It ended up being like three or four shows -- it was supposed to have been six shows. However, that said, it was great. It was so great that nobody really wanted it to end. I mean, people got stupid and silly and sentimental and really nostalgic, really crazy, you know? I spent a lot of time with Janis Joplin. That's where I became friends with her.
CC: What was she like?
EA: She was wonderful. She was very smart, very caring, very big heart. We had a good time. I took Sari [his daughter], who was a baby, up to see her the night she was recording "Mercedes Benz." [Janis recorded the song October 1, 1970. She died three days later]. It was just her in a dark room and a microphone and the producer Paul Rothchild. And I could see she was a little... she was a little, uh... she probably wanted a kid herself. It was a pretty shocking day [Janis's death]. But, if you know people in this business, every day is a shock, every day something happens.
CC: Unfortunately, I know what you mean. Someone's here and then, just like that, they're gone...
EA: Oh man, she was just the beginning. I don't know...then you wonder why you're around...
CC: And then you just gotta keep going...
EA: Well, you know, you can't go back.
CC: So you guys kept in touch after Festival Express?
EA: Oh yeah, I'd see him. We did some shows in Woodstock, though he was still in California when I got there. Rick was a night owl, man. I couldn't keep up with him. I'm sure you know what he was like.
CC: Yes, he was definitely nocturnal.
EA: So, I still saw him from time to time. And then he played in New York and I called him and he came to my house. He liked my daughter, Sari, a lot, and he came to see [us]. Then I participated in a show that he did with those guys -- you know, those musicians from Connecticut or Massachusetts, a blues band? They were good...
CC: The Chili Brothers?
EA: Yeah, those guys. I think it was at the Wetlands. Then I went up to Woodstock, we started to mess around, then Rick came to New York to do some recording [for Eric's record, Stages: The Lost Album]. Jonas Fjeld was there, and then we did this gig at Tinker Street Café. We started singing and we did "Blue River," and Jonas jumped up and started singing, too. And that was the beginning of the trio.
CC: And we all know what happened after that. It was a great time. Did you see Rick much after that?
EA: Yeah. We'd planned to do another record in Canada. We were gonna do it with Colin Linden. We had done some shows together and started talking about this, that, and the other. And Colin was gonna produce it. Everybody was happy about that and Rick trusted him. We talked about it about a year before Rick died. We were gonna do it in Kingston, Ontario of all places.
CC: Why there?
EA: Well, there was a cool studio there. Zal Yanovsky lived there and he had a restaurant in the area. Maybe Rick thought the food was good [laughs].
CC: Do you remember how you heard that Rick had died?
EA: Yeah. Somebody called me in Norway. But afterward, at the Ark in Ann Arbor, where he did his last gig, I saw that, on the dressing room wall, he wrote "Oh, I don't feel very well." It was one of the saddest things I've ever seen...
[*In addition to his work with Rick, Eric has also collaborated with Garth, including a series of shows in 2001 billed as Hudson/Fjeld/Andersen/Andersen, which also featured Sari Andersen.]
Copyright © 2007 by Carol Caffin. All Rights Reserved.
I remember the first time I heard the name "Eric Andersen." It was the summer of 1982. I was just a couple months shy of my 20th birthday and accompanying Robert Hazard, then Philadelphia's hottest rising rock star, on a press junket to promote his new record. We hit every major rock radio station in Philly, a couple of newspapers, and a local TV news show. With my trusty tape recorder and notebook in hand, I interviewed him in the limo--en route to the "real" interviews--for my college newspaper. Unfortunately, my recorder ate the tape, but I retained my scribbled notes. Only two had any significance. One said "New female singer will record Robert's song 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.'" The other said: "Robert's biggest influence: singer/songwriter Eric Anderson [sic]." Hmm, I thought. I'll have to check him out.
I never did. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" became a huge hit for the "new singer," Cyndi Lauper, but Robert Hazard faded into oblivion and, with him, my mental note to check out Eric Andersen. Little did I know that, in just a few short years, I'd be working with Eric, helping to promote some of the most loved and critically acclaimed music of his career, his collaborations with Rick Danko and Norwegian singer/songwriter, Jonas Fjeld. It was Rick who, both directly and indirectly, got me into Eric's music. The now-famous Woodstock gig at Tinker Street Café that brought he trio together in the fall of 1990 started as just another show, but, as Rick said later, "there was magic in the air" that night.
I wasn't there for the Woodstock gig, but I got a taste of the magic when, in early 1991 upon returning from Norway, where the trio had recorded what would become Danko Fjeld Andersen, Rick called me and played a few of the songs on his guitar. One of the songs that struck me was "Driftin' Away." Rick also sang a bit of "Blue River" that night and, though written by Eric many years earlier, it seemed to be custom-made for Rick's voice. (As I recall, it was around that time that Rick slowly began introducing those songs into his onstage repertoire, not just in his solo shows, but in gigs with The Band. In fact, one of the first times I heard Rick perform "Driftin' Away" onstage was at one of The Band's Roadhouse shows in New York City.) Rick was excited about the songs, and I realized that this was more than just a collaboration -- it was a connection. "I want you to meet Eric," he said, kinetic and hyper as always. "You'll love him! He's great! He's a poet!"
Soon after, Rick introduced me to Eric and I began publicizing Eric's shows as well as Rick's, and working on promoting DFA -- without the benefit of an American release. That didn't stop us. The music was infectious; there was passion in those songs. So I wasn't surprised when the Norwegian recording began garnering airplay in major markets across the country, mostly from the few CDs I had and from second-generation cassette tapes that I dubbed myself. The momentum was incredible; it was a heady time.
It would be more than two years before Danko Fjeld Andersen would be released in the States. By then, two relatively new sub-genres -- and their requisite accompanying radio formats -- had been spawned: Americana and Triple A (originally called PAR, for Progressive Adult Radio). I had to laugh when these formats were touted as "new." After all, The Band virtually invented these formats with a little record called Music From Big Pink a quarter-century earlier.
Though I've talked to him intermittently over the years since Rick's death, I have not seen Eric since January, 2000, when we ran into each other at a music conference in Cleveland. It was just a month after Rick died, and I guess we were both still in shock -- and denial. All he could manage to say to me was "Blue Christmas, huh?" "Yeah," I said. "Blue Christmas."
These days, Eric, who turned 64 on Valentine's Day, is still busy touring and making new music. His latest CD, Blue Rain, recorded live in Oslo with members of the blues band Spoonful of Blues, is about to be released. Recently married to Inge Bakkenes and dividing his time between the Netherlands and New York, Eric is as productive -- and prolific -- as he's always been, and, ever the wandering troubadour, just as difficult to pin down. He called me from a train in Norway, where he was traveling with his 20-year-old son, Henrik. The chugging train turned out to be an oddly apt -- almost metaphorical -- backdrop for our conversation. "We had a strange experience here in Norway," Eric told me, and I sensed a sadness in his voice. "I came up to see my family here and [I heard] that a 20-year-old boy had jumped in front of a fast train. His girlfriend had left him the day before. And today, Henrik and I were at the station -- it happened at the same station -- and you could see his footprints in the snow going out but not coming back." Knowing Eric, someday that heartbreaking image will find its way into a song.
During our conversation, Eric's mood veered from existential to jovial, with Rick, even in spirit, providing some welcome comic relief every time things got a little heavy.
CC: What was your first awareness of Rick and The Band?
EA: I think I first met Rick outside the Continental Hotel in L.A., a hotel that a lot of musicians stayed at, probably in 1967 or 68. We hung out for a couple of days; I don't even remember what they [The Band] were doing. Maybe they were recording or doing a gig somewhere. I'm not sure; it's all in a haze. [laughs] But next to the hotel, there was a high-end used-car sales lot that had a chain-link fence. Rick found a car there that he liked. It was a green Karmann Ghia. And the next time I saw it, it was in his yard. He invited me to Woodstock to meet everybody in The Band and I went over there one day in the springtime, hung out for a few days, went up to everybody's houses and said hello. He introduced me; it was quite nice. I'd never been to Woodstock before, it was my first time.
Then I remember I played a festival, me and Townes Van Zandt; we were doing a lot of hangin' out at the time. I mean, I had seen Rick around, I'd run into him from time to time. There were actually many times I ran into him, but I remember one time, I was playing at a workshop at a festival in Canada, the Winnipeg Folk Festival, and I heard somebody playing music. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from; I thought I was hearing things. And it was Rick playing bass lines underneath the songs [laughs]. He was sitting down--I didn't even see him. He was substituting for somebody, but I don't remember who. Somebody couldn't make the gig, so they called Rick and he filled in and did a show. I didn't know that he was even there. Then of course we hung out at Festival Express [the famous 1970 trans-continental train tour of Canada featuring The Band, the Grateful Dead, and Janis Joplin].
CC: I'm sure that's a haze, too, but what do you remember about Festival Express? The shows, the train, the musicians?
EA: It was a whole train. The guy who produced it was a friend of mine, a family friend, Kenny Walker. I had done the Toronto Pop Festival and he just became my friend and he wanted to do something innovative. He was not afraid to take chances. So he rented a train for the musicians. And that's how Festival Express started.
CC: Do you remember everyone getting together, actually boarding the train?
What I remember is Rick ducking under a fence, coming from a car that had been chasing the train. He had a car follow the train, just waiting for it to slow down! It slowed down in a yard, and he jumped out of the car and just ran up the tracks to the train, and jumped in an open door [laughs]. He was a little late [laughs]. But better late then never! [laughs]
CC: Oh-my-God, Eric. So you're telling me he was late for Festival Express?
EA: Well, he was not late for the gigs. Just the boarding! [laughs] But it was just a wonderful time. Everybody was playing music and having a good time, just living on this train. Everybody had their rooms. There was a dining room. There were doctors on board if anybody had any energy problems. It was just one big, wild, fun thing. And the shows were great.
CC: How long did it last? Wasn't it cut short?
EA: Well, it was supposed to start in Montreal, but they had trouble with the separatists -- the Jean Baptiste thing. Then, the Vancouver date, they yanked that because the authorities were scared of cigarette burns on the Astroturf. It ended up being like three or four shows -- it was supposed to have been six shows. However, that said, it was great. It was so great that nobody really wanted it to end. I mean, people got stupid and silly and sentimental and really nostalgic, really crazy, you know? I spent a lot of time with Janis Joplin. That's where I became friends with her.
CC: What was she like?
EA: She was wonderful. She was very smart, very caring, very big heart. We had a good time. I took Sari [his daughter], who was a baby, up to see her the night she was recording "Mercedes Benz." [Janis recorded the song October 1, 1970. She died three days later]. It was just her in a dark room and a microphone and the producer Paul Rothchild. And I could see she was a little... she was a little, uh... she probably wanted a kid herself. It was a pretty shocking day [Janis's death]. But, if you know people in this business, every day is a shock, every day something happens.
CC: Unfortunately, I know what you mean. Someone's here and then, just like that, they're gone...
EA: Oh man, she was just the beginning. I don't know...then you wonder why you're around...
CC: And then you just gotta keep going...
EA: Well, you know, you can't go back.
CC: So you guys kept in touch after Festival Express?
EA: Oh yeah, I'd see him. We did some shows in Woodstock, though he was still in California when I got there. Rick was a night owl, man. I couldn't keep up with him. I'm sure you know what he was like.
CC: Yes, he was definitely nocturnal.
EA: So, I still saw him from time to time. And then he played in New York and I called him and he came to my house. He liked my daughter, Sari, a lot, and he came to see [us]. Then I participated in a show that he did with those guys -- you know, those musicians from Connecticut or Massachusetts, a blues band? They were good...
CC: The Chili Brothers?
EA: Yeah, those guys. I think it was at the Wetlands. Then I went up to Woodstock, we started to mess around, then Rick came to New York to do some recording [for Eric's record, Stages: The Lost Album]. Jonas Fjeld was there, and then we did this gig at Tinker Street Café. We started singing and we did "Blue River," and Jonas jumped up and started singing, too. And that was the beginning of the trio.
CC: And we all know what happened after that. It was a great time. Did you see Rick much after that?
EA: Yeah. We'd planned to do another record in Canada. We were gonna do it with Colin Linden. We had done some shows together and started talking about this, that, and the other. And Colin was gonna produce it. Everybody was happy about that and Rick trusted him. We talked about it about a year before Rick died. We were gonna do it in Kingston, Ontario of all places.
CC: Why there?
EA: Well, there was a cool studio there. Zal Yanovsky lived there and he had a restaurant in the area. Maybe Rick thought the food was good [laughs].
CC: Do you remember how you heard that Rick had died?
EA: Yeah. Somebody called me in Norway. But afterward, at the Ark in Ann Arbor, where he did his last gig, I saw that, on the dressing room wall, he wrote "Oh, I don't feel very well." It was one of the saddest things I've ever seen...
[*In addition to his work with Rick, Eric has also collaborated with Garth, including a series of shows in 2001 billed as Hudson/Fjeld/Andersen/Andersen, which also featured Sari Andersen.]
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)