Rolling Stone interview series Unknown Legends features long-form conversations between senior writer Andy Greene and veteran musicians who have toured and recorded alongside icons for years, if not decades. All are renowned in the business, but some are less well known to the general public. Here, these artists tell their complete stories, giving an up-close look at life on music’s A list. This edition features guitarist Jim Weider.
According to conventional rock wisdom, the Band ended on Thanksgiving 1976 with The Last Waltz, the most famous farewell concert in music history. And while it’s true that landmark show marked the end of Robbie Robertson‘s tenure in the group, the four other members reformed the Band just a few years later in 1983, and kept a busy schedule of touring and recording until Rick Danko’s death in 1999.
For the vast majority of that time, the hole that Robertson left in the band was filled by guitarist Jim Weider. He came on board for a tour the Band played with Crosby, Stills, and Nash in 1985, and he stuck around for the next 14 years. There were many difficult moments, most notably Richard Manuel’s death by suicide in 1986, and the addiction issues that Danko battled in the final years of his life. But there were also triumphs like the Band’s 1993 LP Jericho, their performance at Woodstock 1994, their gigs opening for the Grateful Dead’s final shows in 1995, and several occasions where the Band’s old buddy Bob Dylan dropped in for a little jam.
In the final years of Levon Helm‘s life, he called Weider back into the fold to play with him on the road and in his Woodstock barn at Midnight Rambles. The last time Helm played in public, Weider was right by his side. And just a few years later, Weider formed the Weight Band to keep the Band’s music alive on the road. (They’ve also released two original albums, 2018’s World Gone Mad and 2022’s Shines Like Gold.)
“I want to keep the Woodstock Sound alive,” he tells Rolling Stone on Zoom from his house in Woodstock, New York. “That’s a combination of folk, rock, and blues that Bob Dylan and the Band created in the Sixties. It’s a tradition that needs to continue.”
Weider was born a stone’s throw from Woodstock in Glenford, New York. As a kid, he loved Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, and surf guitar acts like the Ventures and the Shadows. At age 11, he started playing the accordion. “When I realized I got no girls with an accordion,” he says, “I switched to the guitar. I would play records like ‘Twilight Zone’ and ‘Secret Agent Man’ and slow them down by putting a nickel on the vinyl so I could learn all the chords. And as soon as I heard James Burton play with Ricky Nelson [on Ozzy and Harriet] I knew I wanted to be in a band.”
Weider was a teenager when Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Tim Hardin, and a group of mostly Canadian musicians destined to be known as the Band all moved to the tiny town. “Dylan lived in a house up on the hill,” Weider says. “My friend brought me over once. There was a big box like a treasure chest in one of the rooms. We opened it and saw hundreds of songs written out. I quickly closed it and went, ‘Man, we shouldn’t even look at this.’”
He was at Sled Hill Cafe one morning when a new song called “Chest Fever” came on the radio. “I’d never heard anything like that in my life,” he says. “I loved the sound of the distorted organ. I said to the owner’s daughter, ‘Who is that?’ She went, ‘That’s the Band. They live here in Woodstock.’”
Not long afterwards, Weider heard “Chest Fever” again when the Band used it to open up their set at the Woodstock festival (held 40 miles away in Bethel, New York). “That was the first time I saw them play live,” he says. “They were so great, so creative, so different. Sly and the Family Stone blew me away that weekend too. The Who played Tommy. That whole weekend was a blast. Everybody was there for the music. If anyone needed anything, people would help each other out. I never saw one fight. No arguments. Such a great time.”
Weider took a job at an instrument/amp store in the town of Woodstock after high school, which gave him the chance to finally meet many members of the Band. “I’d also see them at the local bars,” he says. “Danko often came into Deanie’s. I’d see him sit around the piano with Richard Manuel and play songs at like 1 a.m.”
The Seventies was a rough decade for Weider, who spent time in Nashville, Atlanta, and Los Angeles, touring and recording with under-the-radar-artists like Robert Lee, Lee Clayton, Robbie Dupree, and Johnny Paycheck. “Johnny Paycheck was batshit crazy,” he says. “He drove a Cadillac and us guys in the band followed it in a van. We played some really rough places. I got out of that job as soon as I could.”
After a long stint playing five nights a week in an Atlanta bar, Weider decided to move back to Woodstock and start over. It turned out to be a very wise choice, since it put him back in contact with Levon Helm just as he was thinking about reforming the Band.
You first played with Levon Helm in Levon and the Woodstock All Stars in the early Eighties. How did that start?
I was playing around locally. And one day Artie Traum said, “Man, I can’t make this gig. Can you do it?” And I wound up playing with Levon. It was great.
We did the Lone Star in Manhattan and places like that. The band included [keyboardist] Stan Szelest, who played with Ronnie Hawkins in the old days, Cindy Cashdollar, who is a great slide player, and [bassist] Frank Campbell. We had two drummers for a while. It was fantastic. We played all kinds of bars, like the Joyous Lake up in Woodstock. And then I eventually went out with Levon and Rick when they toured as a duo.
What were those shows like?
We did Band songs, blues tunes. Danko would do a Jerry Garcia song. We did J.J. Cale. We did “Crazy Mama.” They were just fun gigs. Those guys would play acoustic and mandolin, and I’d play electric, mostly electric Telecaster.
At that time, I had a country band. Levon would sit in sometimes. Then Richard Manuel came to town, and Garth moved back from California. Everything started coming together.
Were you playing with Helm and Danko at the Lone Star Cafe in 1983 when Bob Dylan sat in with them?
Yeah. Somewhere I have a picture of him playing my green Silvertone guitar. Harry Dean Stanton would sit in too. It was quite a bash down there. We had Ted Nugent, Steve Winwood. Everyone came down and sat in with us there in the early Eighties. It was wild.
How did that morph into playing shows as the Band?
Those guys got offers to do shows with Crosby, Stills, and Nash in 1985. They went out with the Cate Brothers, who were a four-piece band. They did about a week. And then Levon, having played with me, had me down to jam with them. But those guys went on the road with them.
A week later, Levon called me up and asked me to join the Band. He knew that I was pretty hardened from playing down in Atlanta and Nashville all those years. He trusted what I did. I’m really glad he had my back.
When they asked you to join as the guitarist in 1985, did you feel intimidated? You’re joining a very distinguished group, and stepping into the shoes of a very iconic guitar player.
Yeah. It was a big deal for me. The first gig, they flew me out to Dallas. I get there and there’s like 20,000 people. The roadies are lifting Richard Manuel into the air, like three or four guys, getting ready to land him onstage at his piano. I was like, “Uh-oh.” [Laughs.]
Was he drunk?
He was bombed. But he got on the piano and Levon said, “Just play it thick and leave that backbeat open.” I had to do all the opening riffs, like the beginning of “It Makes No Difference” and “The W.S. Walcott Medicine Show.” All those classic riffs that Robbie wrote, those great guitar riffs, I had to kick off a lot of the tunes. It was pretty exciting for me. I was overwhelmed, but those guys all made me feel comfortable. It was always about the music.
Are you trying to replicate Robbie’s parts exactly, put your own spin on them, or somewhere in between?
The intro parts, like the beginning of “It Makes No Difference” or the start of “Up on Cripple Creek,” I’d do those exactly. As far as soloing, they just let me do my thing and play the way I play. But classic orchestrated licks like the beginning of “Walcott Medicine Show,” I’d do those licks because that’s part of the song.
What was the audience reaction like at these first shows with CSN?
It went over fine. It was really exciting. And those guys just backed me up all the way. “Do your thing, solo how you solo, play your rhythm parts the way you play them. Just play it strong.” That’s the way they were. We’d get back in the bus back then and we’d listen to a cassette of the show and drive to the next show. Those guys would critique the vocals. They’d want to listen to me play with them. They were all about the music at all times.
Levon was as county as you could get. So was Danko. They were just good, solid people. There were no airs about them. I just approached it like that myself. I think they appreciated that I wasn’t trying to be anyone else but me.
What’s amazing is that this was four-fifths of the classic Band lineup. All three singers were there. But because Robbie wasn’t there, some people felt it was inauthentic.
It was the core. Unfortunately, it was a fight for them. Levon fought a tough fight because the powers that be really wanted to keep it down because they were releasing reissues [of older Band albums]. As we went to do our first album, we went in the studio during that period in 1985-’86 and we cut four or five songs. “Country Boy” wound up on Jericho. It was a Harry Belafonte song that Richard Manuel sang like an angel. Beautiful.
We cut four or five tunes with John Simon: “My Love is All Imagination,” a Steve Winwood tune, an instrumental that Richard Manuel brought in. I said, “Oh shit, this is really cool. We’re going to do a record.” After we lost Richard, it just kind of floundered.
It must have been so hard to see Richard struggle in the last few months of his life.
It was. When I first joined, he was working on a solo record. He was full of life. He was so happy the Band got back together. He was in such a positive mode. It was fun. Rick and Richard were really, really close. I’d hang out with those guys a lot. We’d go to a bar after shows. We had a good time. It was great to see Richard in that place. And of course, he’s a fantastic singer. But when he did drink on the road, it became a Jekyll and Hyde thing. Alcoholism is a rough thing to watch. That was sad.
By that Florida tour in early 1986, you were playing pretty small places like the Cheek to Cheek Lounge. The Last Waltz was just 10 years earlier. It’s hard to fathom that the Band was in tiny clubs.
Yeah. I don’t think those guys wanted the Band to stop. They’re musicians first. Levon did some great solo records. Everyone did their thing. Danko did a record. Unfortunately, Richard never did a solo album. He was working on it. But yeah…they were just kind of starting from scratch again.
I think at one point, Dylan offered us a chance to go on the road with him. I was excited about it. But Tom Petty wound up doing it because this manager we had at the time nixed it. I was like, “Oh man!” Even back then, I knew it was a bad move. Dylan wanted to get back with the Band. And then Tom Petty did the tour, and it became a film.
I’m sure it’s a hard memory, but tell me about the night Richard died.
It was rough. I was with Rick that night. Richard was drinking a lot. We were down in Florida. I went down with Rick to get some pot from Richard’s room. He just went [gruff and angry voice], “It’s over there! Just get it! Get out!” We just got it and left. Of course, we found out in the morning what what happened.
It shouldn’t have happened. He was kind of fragile at that point. We probably shouldn’t have been … it was bad management. We shouldn’t have been out doing that many shows. Someone should have been looking over him a lot better than it had been. It was painful, painful for Levon, Rick, and Garth, as it was for me. It was terrible. You don’t forget it. Alcoholism is a rough thing. I’ve seen it a lot.
Did the group thinking about breaking up at that point?
No. Garth really stepped up. We went out and played some shows as a four-piece. Rick got Blondie Chaplin to tour with us. Finally, Levon got Stan Szelest to come down and we started working on the beginning of a record. Los Lobos came down to Woodstock to work with us. Stan joined for a bit. But then he died [in 1991]. These were dark days.
We went to Japan with Fred Carter, another one of Levon’s buddies. And then eventually I said, “Let’s get Richard Bell.” He was in Janis Joplin’s band, Full Tilt Boogie. He was a good buddy of mine. They knew him from Ronnie Hawkins’ band. It took a while to all come together, really until the Nineties. And then Randy Ciarlante joined on double drums, so Levon could play mandolin and harp. Then the Band got really strong. We were able to make Jericho.
The Band ended in such a definitive way with The Last Waltz that it sort of froze them forever in 1976 to the public. That movie just played on a constant loop. I think that’s one reason why people couldn’t quite conceive of it as an ongoing thing.
Yeah. It was a shame because I was really proud of Jericho. Levon fought the powers that be trying to get a record deal, if you can believe it. To get a record deal, they had to go to this Pyramid Records, owned by this lawyer named Allen Jacobi. [Laughs.]
None of the major labels would touch them. My own theory is that Levon fought a hard battle because they wanted to keep them down and sell those reissues. I could be completely wrong, but I swear I’m right on this. If there’s no Band, it’s easier to keep reissuing those old albums even though we made a great record.
Let’s talk about Jericho. I really think that version on “Atlantic City” is the best Bruce Springsteen cover ever recorded.
Levon sang the heck out of it. We went down to a studio down south of here with Rick Chertoff. He was going to produce an album with us. That’s a whole other story. It didn’t last. But we cut “Atlantic City,” and it sounded great. We cut a few other tunes too. That one stuck.
That “Blind Wilie McTell” cover is also amazing.
I think we started working on it down there. But I think we went back up to Bearsville with Steve Jordan on double drum, if I can remember right. That was pretty much it. That became part of the Jericho album. Those were the only songs we cut with Chertoff that made it onto the record.
You wrote “Remedy” with Colin Linden.
That was a big thrill for me. It became the second single in the U.S. It went to Number One in Canada. To have that happen was a huge achievement for me. I was ecstatic. I came up with that chorus on the bus one day. Colin was friends with us. We started writing together. That’s one I’m very proud of. It still holds up.
You guys made a truly great record with Jericho. Did it frustrate you that it didn’t do better?
I think it got some appreciation. You guys reviewed, it which was great. But I wish it got more attention. I wish we’d made a video for “Remedy.” We didn’t do as much as we could have because of the record company and the backing of it all. I think it should have done a lot better.
Tell me about playing at the Bill Clinton inauguration concert with Bob Dylan.
That was a blast. You have Dickey Betts, Dr. John, and the whole crew down there. It was quite a party. Dylan was great, man. He was funny. He’s a character. He would get on the guitar and he’d go like he was going up to the mic. I don’t think anyone ever released this video. Then he’d pull back. He was playing games with the audience. Then he’d finally go up and sing.
He was cool. He kind of kept to himself. I don’t think I’ve said more than three or four words to him even though I’ve met and played with him several times. [Laughs.]
What was it like to play Madison Square Garden at the Bob Dylan 30 concert?
That was great. I’m a huge Dylan fan, of course. To hear all those songs get performed by the different artists…. G.E. Smith, who I worked with a lot, was the M.D. He did a wonderful job. Previous to that, I was hanging backstage with Duck Dunn. Sinead O’Connor had just ripped up a photo of the Pope. When she came out, that was a heavy moment for a minute. That’s where I met Clapton. He gave me a triangular pick that Richie Havens used. I was messing with it. Then he came back later and said, “Can I get that pick back?” It was a funny moment.
What’s funny is that Clapton famously said he wanted to join the Band back in the Sixties. He didn’t pull that off, but you did.
Yeah. Well, I was lucky because Levon changed my life. He had my back on everything.
When Levon wrote his book in 1993, it started a public war with Robbie. It got very heated. How did you feel when that was going on?
I know how hard it is to write songs. You gotta really work hard at it. I don’t doubt Robertson worked really hard to write these great songs. I stayed out of all that. I didn’t want to open my mouth on any of that stuff because it really wasn’t my place. But I do know how hard it is to write songs … and where he got his ideas from.
I met all these people when I went down to Arkansas with Levon and playing those blues festivals. I met all his high school buddies. All those characters, like Anna Lee, and all the characters that come in on these songs that Robbie wrote. When I went up with Richard Manuel when he got an award at his hometown of Stratford, we flew there in this tiny plane. He said, “Look, that’s where we drove my old car Dixie down, in the field over there.”
All these ideas, Robbie just soaked up. I know he got a lot of his ideas from meeting these characters and working with Ronnie Hawkins and all the people Levon knew down in the South.
All those crazy chords that came in, some of them came from working with Garth Hudson, you can bet on that. Some of those chords were like Beatles changes, like how “Whispering Pines” goes from a major to a minor. That’s some really complicated stuff. I think a lot of it rubbed off. That’s as far as I’ll go on that.
The Band played Woodstock ’94. What was that day like for you?
Great. It was kind of great. We had to rehearse at Levon’s. Levon wasn’t that happy we had to back up Bob Weir and Roger McGuinn. Then they put Hot Tuna and Bruce Hornsby with us too. We also loved Jorma [Kaukonen] and those guys. We did a lot of shows with them. But Levon wasn’t that hot on us having to back up all those guys. I remember that.
But we did. It was part of the deal. And it went well. It rained. They shook it off. Who the hell played after us? The guy that played that crazy bass?
Les Claypool?
Yeah. After we did this thing with Bob Weir and Roger McGuinn, we did all these Band songs, and then out comes Les Claypool. I think it was one of the greatest festivals ever. It should be released. You had Dylan. You had Santana, Traffic back together…. It was an amazing festival. I always wondered why Michael Lang never released that film. I guess there was so much licensing to sort through with all of the acts.
I was looking at setlists from your time in the group. You never once played “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” Why was that?
Levon said that Joan Baez ruined it for him. He never wanted to do it again. I shouldn’t say “ruined” it. He felt she did it and it didn’t need to be done again. You know what? After he sang it at The Last Waltz, nobody could ever sing it better than him again. That performance is iconic to me.
Watching him drum and sing at the same time is so impressive. Nobody has ever done it as seamlessly as him.
You’re exactly right. Those early shows we did in the Eighties and into the early Nineties, he was in his late forties and still a powerhouse drummer. His backbeat was huge. His feel was so deep. He was really powerful. That’s why guys like Jim Keltner and Ringo and all these guys looked up to Levon. He was a force of nature.
In 1995, you opened up for the Grateful Dead at Soldier Field. Those were Jerry Garcia’s final concerts. What do you recall about those gigs?
That was great. I really got the Grateful Dead at those shows. I remember during soundcheck [Band keyboardist] Richard Bell yelled out to Jerry, “Don’t quit your day job.” He laughed it off. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt.
We opened up. It was two nights. As I was watching the Grateful Dead that night, I really got them again. I was a fan when their first album came out. I saw how the Band influenced them on Workingman’s Dead. It became an acoustic blend of blues and rock. And that night, I saw how the music went in waves. They kept it going. It flowed. They got into this flow and I went, “I really get this now. I get it again.”
It had been a long time since I’d seen them. It was amazing to see that many people and this flow happening, the way the worked the crowd and their music.
Insane that Jerry was just 53.
Yeah. It really is. Danko was 55.
Tell me about making High on the Hog, the second album you made with the Band.
That was Levon’s idea. Kind of a bad album cover as far as I was concerned. But it was about the greed of the record company. That’s what the whole thing was about, a greedy record company. I knew what he was thinking about.
We had a few tunes. We worked on some great ones like “High Price of Love,” which I co-wrote. There were a couple of tunes I really dug on that record. There were some crazy times recording it. We would record the way we normally did, which we’d try and get everything live. Levon would come in in his bathrobe. He sang “I Must Love You Too Much,” which is a pretty cool tune. It was wild cutting that track.
Champion Jack Dupree is on “Ramble Jungle.” We had done the whole album with him. I think we used a track with him. What a funky dude. I can’t remember too many other songs on that record.
How was the experience of making Jubilation?
There was a couple of good songs, but it really shouldn’t have happened. Levon’s voice was in really bad shape. It was just before he got throat cancer. The Band was separated. We would cut some tracks with a different bass player. It was one of those records that… I thought shouldn’t have happened. Levon was never happy with the mix or the record. It was another one of those small record companies that we were on. To me, it was another money grab.
Tell me more about Rick Danko. I feel like people don’t know much about his personality. What was he like?
Rick was Rick. He was like the Yogi Berra of rock. He was just a character. I think he held a lot of pain back. But he was just a great guy.
We did a lot of shows. I played a lot of solo shows with him. We had a lot of laughs. It was always me and him. I don’t think I slept in 15 years on the road with him. I’d bump into him in the bathroom of the bus in the middle of the night. We drove every night from city to city. That way we kept the characters away from us. He was a great guy, full of enthusiasm all the time. I couldn’t say more good things about him. Just a great guy.
It’s so sad. He was so young. That didn’t have to happen.
Yeah. It really was. When he got back from Japan, where he was busted, I had it lined up for him to see my doctor. I don’t think he wanted to do it. It was too bad. It was really bad.
You can’t force someone to want help.
Basically, yeah. He knew he would have to stop a lot of stuff. People don’t want to stop sometimes when it comes to addictions. It takes a lot of inner strength.
The best the Band ever was was in that period between Jericho and High on the Hog, in the mid-Nineties. The Band was rocking. It sounded the best it ever did. We did some live records, went to Japan. The Band was really strong with Richard Bell on keyboards, and Garth. That was a period Levon was feeling good, cleaned up, in good health. Danko too.
What happened after Danko died in 1999?
I had made some solo records previous to that, Bigfoot and Remedy. Then I decided to make an all-instrumental record, Percolator. I wanted to go completely left-brain. It was good for me to get away from everything we went through and do something completely fresh and new. I had a top-notch band with Rodney Holmes on drums and Mitch Stein on guitar. Ron Jenkins was on bass. We toured Europe and the States. It was great to do something completely different.
There was no talk of the Band continuing with you, Garth, and Levon?
No. Once we lost Danko…. Levon and Danko sang so well together. Rick in the studio could sing the high parts or even the low parts, perfectly in pitch. Those guys sang like birds. Once we lost Rick, that was the end of it. Levon had to recuperate and do his thing. I went out and did my instrumental project.
When Levon started to do the Rambles and the solo touring, Jimmy Vivino was on guitar. How did you wind up getting called in?
Basically, what happened was it was Vivino and Larry Campbell. They did a great job doing those records with Levon and getting him back on track. Vivino got the [Tonight Show] gig with Conan and had to move to California. Levon called me up and was like, “Hey man, do you want to join back up with us?” I had run my course. I was doing Percolator shows. But as soon as Levon called, I was like, “Yeah, man. Absolutely.” It was great. The band was killing. We toured all over the country.
I was just so happy. I was making a solo album called Pulse. At the same time, Levon was doing the Electric Dirt record. It went so well. He got another Grammy. I went, “This is fantastic!” I was so happy for him. The band was killing. He ended on a high note, a resurgence, like I’ve never seen. What a comeback!
Those shows were really special and so powerful. The respect you should have gotten in the Eighties and Nineties was finally happening.
Right. Exactly. That should have happened on that kind of level for the Band back then, especially in the Nineties when we got it back together. But to see it happen for Levon at the end of his life … to see that, to get the Grammys… He loved having the horns and his daughter [Amy] with him. I was glad he asked me to join back up. I played with him until the end of his life.
His voice came back too. I saw some early Rambles where he barely sang a note. Then I saw some a bit later where he sang all night and sounded like his old self.
Yeah. It came back where he could sing in a higher register. It was amazing. When we went out to Colorado to play Red Rocks, he lost his voice. And then finally, which was really strange, his voice came back again. We were playing in Tarrytown and he suddenly started singing again. I got chills. That was pretty close to the end.
Where was the last show?
We played the Barn. We did a Ramble. Los Lobos was with us. Levon was feeling really bad. He had me open the show with Chuck Berry’s “Deep Feeling.” He loved that song. We all went to the back room after the show and hung out with Los Lobos. Levon was really glad they were there. Levon was like, “I could have played so much better. I didn’t do my best.” He felt bad about it. We all said, “Oh man, it was great.” That was the last show.
Some of the greatest musical moments of my life were in that barn. There was so much warmth and love for Levon. The band was amazing. It was just so pure.
That’s great. It really was. It was so intimate to have all that happening here.
I never thought I’d get to hear Levon sing again, let alone those songs. But then I’m in Woodstock and he’s belting out “Ophelia” and “The Weight.”
That’s how we got to the Weight Band. After Levon passed, I went out with Garth and Jimmy Vivino and did a show called Songs of the Band. People were so happy to hear the songs. We did several shows. Then Vivino went and did his thing. Garth was playing with his wife, Maude. I went to my old friend/singer Randy Ciarlante, who was in the Band with us, and I said, “Why don’t we do a couple of shows?” It went well. It was fun. It’s kind of how the Weight Band grew into what it is now.
You’re keeping these songs alive. There’s really nobody else with this much history in the Band in a position to do it.
Yeah. I didn’t want to just do a tribute band at all, to myself. [Laughs.] I started writing new songs for the group. That’s why I did the World Gone Mad album. We added [keyboardist] Marty Grebb to the band. The latest record is Shines Like Gold, which I’m really proud of. We added Matt Zeiner on keyboards. He’s also a great vocalist. Michael Bram is a great drummer and vocalist. Albert Rogers is on vocals on bass. We also have [keyboardist/singer] Brian Mitchell from the Levon Helm Band. It’s vocally a really strong group. I wrote these tunes for that record with Colin Linden. I’m really proud of the record. We’re carrying on the same feel as the Band, and the same tradition.
The setlist now is a mixture of Band songs and Weight Band originals?
Yes. We put in a couple Grateful Dead songs and maybe an Allman Brothers tune since Matt played for years with Dickey Betts, and survived it. [Laughs.] It’s a fun bunch of guys. It’s nice to keep playing music.
How is Garth doing these days?
He’s hanging in there. I gotta go see him. I meant to see him this week. I’ll probably seem him next week. He’s hanging in there. He’s still doing OK. The last time I saw him, he went and played some piano in his room. It was great.
I don’t think anyone expected him to be the last man standing.
Yeah. That was a sad loss. He’s the oldest. He’s still going. He’s not in good shape. I really want to go see him. I try and see him every week.
Is he still in Woodstock?
He’s in an elder care place that’s taking good care of him.
How did you feel when you learned that Robbie died? Did you even know he was sick?
I didn’t know he was sick. I think it’s a shame. It’s terrible we lost not only a guitar player that influenced me, but his songs were iconic. A real American songwriter from Canada. It was a big loss.
Did you ever meet him?
Never. We’d been in the same room, like at a horrible funeral like Danko’s. I was just too upset to even go over and say, “Hey.” Maybe he didn’t want to say hello. I don’t know. I never met him. We shared a lot of the same stories. Levon introduced us to the same people. We just never met. I would have liked it. I think we could have had a good laugh.
The two of you were the only people that really knew what it was like to be in a band with those four guys.
Yeah. Basically. Levon had such a bad rift going. It just didn’t work out like that.
It’s a shame there’s this division in the fan base, and some people are pro-Robbie and some are pro-Levon. All five of those guys were so important to the sound of that group.
I think so. It’s kind of like the division we have in our country. It’s a shame because life is short. We’re all grateful for every day we have on Earth. Life is short. Holding grudges isn’t going to do any good. It’s poisonous. There’s so much good to be done, and music is a great way of helping people.
Robbie said he visited Levon on his death bed. Do you believe that?
I don’t think they ever talked. But I think he did visit him. They went back a long ways. I believe that, sure.
It really is a shame more people don’t know about your era of the group.
I know. One of these days, I’ll write the book with somebody. It’s a whole long saga. I’ve got some good stories. I’ve got hundreds of tapes, since Garth would always give me the shows afterwards. I have video tapes. There’s a whole story to be written.
What are your future plans for the Weight Band?
I want to make another record. This one was really strong. We’re playing it out live. I would have liked more people to have heard it. It needed more reviews. More people should know about it. When they hear it they go, “Oh, I like that song.” Live, it goes over good. I’d like to write some more for another record. I think it’s a good thing to keep this tradition of music going that I’ve learned from.
How do you feel every night when you stand onstage and start playing “The Weight” and you see people’s reaction to it?
The song is about helping our your brother. It’s a positive song. To see people enjoy it still after all these years, to see that positivity come out, and people still enjoy it…. Young people and old, it’s a nice thing. That’s what music should do.