By: David Schultz


Even though neither the 1969 festival nor its infamous children took place in the upstate New York township, Woodstock is still intimately associated with the best that classic rock has to offer. With the Rambles, Woodstock finally makes good on the implicit promise of the birthright that’s been thrust upon it. Everyone who has been to a Ramble describes the experience as special, magical, a beauteous wonder that exceeds all possible expectations. After going to my first Ramble this past Saturday night, I can honestly say that all of those people are right.

The logistics of attending a Ramble have been pretty well documented: the travel through the woods, the innocuous entrance to Helm’s property, the welcoming and gracious nature of the volunteer staff, the intimacy of the room and even the popcorn machine (which I regret not taking sampling). The show itself plays out like an old time rock and roll revue. Helm may be the main attraction but everyone gets their moment. Larry Campbell transforms Garth Hudson’s organ intro to “Chest Fever” into an amazing virtuosic guitar solo, Amy Helm wrings every bit of emotion out of Linda Ronstadt’s “Everybody Loves A Winner,” Teresa Williams empathically channels the hopelessness of the narrator of “Long Black Veil” and brings an inspired gospel fervor to “Keep Your Lamp Trimmed And Burning,” Brian Mitchell does his best Dr. John on “Such A Night,” Byron Isaacs offers up a poignant reading of his own “Calvary,” a song sung by Helm on The Dirt Farmer, Jim Weider steps back into his old shoes with the post-Robertson version of The Band and the horn section of Clark Gayton, Steve Bernstein and Erik Lawrence took a Mardi Gras stroll around the room while Howard Johnson rocked the tuba.


Due to the hefty ticket prices and the effort involved in making the trip to Levon’s Woodstock home, everyone inside the barn is there because they have the same love for the music as those on stage playing it. In the absence of a bar dispensing drinks, college kids getting loaded, chatty folks ignoring the show and hipsters trying to act cooler than the band, all that’s left is crowd full of fans who have a unified reverence for the music and respect for the performers. When Potter sang the a capella intro to “Nothing But The Water,” the room turned deathly quiet, totally engaged by the performance. The same deference was paid for Campbell, Williams and Helm’s take on the Grateful Dead’s “Attics Of My Life.”

In recent months, the Rambles have been without Helm’s distinctive voice. This Saturday, Helm chimed in on the background vocals of “Deep Elem Blues” and received a helping hand from Campbell on a romp through “Tennessee Jed,” saving enough strength to take a verse on the show-closing version of “The Weight.” The heart and soul of the band, even after all these years Helm still has some surprises to offer. While the horn section blasted away during one of the acoustic selections, Helm left his stool, set his mandolin down and dance a marvelously goofy jig.

I was fortunate enough to get to linger around the studio after it had been returned to its normal condition. Wandering around the room, it seemed astounding that GPN and Levon Helm’s 11 piece band had just played a show within its cozy confines that could have easily attracted a couple thousand people before only 300. For a music studio, the space is quite roomy; as a concert venue, it’s extraordinarily intimate. If you consider yourself a proper fan of The Band or American folk music, you are doing yourself a disservice by depriving yourself of this experience.

Labels: Grace Potter and The Nocturnals, Larry Campbell, Levon Helm