Consider two examples of Robbie Robertson's genius, as a guitarist and as a songwriter, both from the mid-'70s, when he was nearing the end of his association with The Band.
Bob Dylan, "Going, Going, Gone," from "Planet Waves" (1974).
Dylan hadn't toured since 1966, so in November 1973 he decided to hunker down with The Band, members of which had played on his "Blonde on Blonde" in '66, before they would record the informal sessions that became Dylan & The Band's "The Basement Tapes."
On the second track of "Planet Waves," Robbie plays the finest guitar of his career. "Going, Going, Gone" seems custom-made to showcase Robertson, and he takes full advantage of the many spaces between words -- quoting Dylan's melodies, chattering witty commentaries on the bitter poetry, strumming silky atmospheres, and even inventing a zoom effect to correspond with the disappearing "gone" syllable. His concluding solo is a model of narrative concision, graced with the articulation of a jeweler carving a pope's insignia on a ruby ring. This is no mere sideman work; it's partnership. (Latter-day axmen take note: Robbie pioneered a couple of techniques adopted/adapted by '80s/'90s metal -- pinged harmonics and especially the buzzy single-note picking brought over to guitar from mandolin.)
Listen to "Going, Going, Gone" here.
The Band, "It Makes No Difference," from "Northern Lights, Southern Cross" (1975).
Robertson wrote some classic songs all by himself -- "The Weight," "Chest Fever," "Rag Mama Rag," "Up on Cripple Creek" -- and lots more with the help of his Band mates. He didn't often give vent to his own feelings, but when he did, he turned to bassist Rick Danko to vocalize them, as in "Stage Fright," maybe "Unfaithful Servant," and especially on "It Makes No Difference."
"There's no love as true as the love that dies untold." This testifying ballad rings so true on every level, each line yanked from the heart and delivered with such youthful simplicity by Danko, that it's hard not to believe it derives from experience. The harmonies by Levon Helm and Richard Manuel lock in with desperate soul, and the rhythm drives like a mule team.
The one thing oddly at odds is Robbie's guitar. He sounds too close to the emotion to express it, falling back on his professional musicality rather than grappling with the pain -- just as in real life, we might understand. But his broader instrument is The Band, and that instrument does not fail. At the end, Robertson makes the wise decision to trade solos with the Band's eldest member and mentor, keyboardist-saxist Garth Hudson, who pours out the healing love on soprano sax while Robbie chokes on his brilliant technique and never tells her.
Now, at age 87, Hudson is the sole survivor. Thanks for the music, Robbie. It was there when we needed it.
Watch "It Makes No Difference" ("The Last Waltz" version filmed in 1976) here.