In the fall of 1991, Robbie Robertson released his second solo album, Storyville, to glowing reviews, including a four-star feature write up in Rolling Stone (“a mature and masterful work that lends additional luster to the formidable legacy Robertson shaped with the Band”). A month later, Nirvana’s Nevermind was released, and we all know which one went on to be considered one of the most important albums of all time. Robertson’s Storyville is all but forgotten, which is a shame, because the record’s atmospheric tribute to New Orleans contains one of his most beautiful songs, “What About Now.”

I’m not sure what prompted me to have Steve buy me Storyville for my birthday that year, most likely Anthony Curtis’ review in Rolling Stone, but “What About Now” was also receiving minor airplay on, of all places, the AOR radio station in Toledo that I listened to while finishing up my senior year at Bowling Green. Initially, I was drawn to the haunting melody, but I was soon taken by Robertson’s lyrics.

There’s gonna be a change of season
Indian summer look around and it’s gone
Why you wanna save the best for last
We grow up so slowly and grow old so fast

We don’t talk about forever
We just catch it while we can
And if I grab on to the moment
Don’t let it slip away out of my hand

Hearing those words sung so plaintively by Robertson gave me some perspective on life as I was completing my final semester of college in the spring of ‘92. During that time, I rushed to complete my senior film, stressed about the remaining courses I needed, and worried about my deteriorating relationship with my then-girlfriend. If only for five minutes “What About Now” allowed me to escape these burdens to try and live in the moment. While the nation was beginning to raise its fists to the screams of Nirvana and Pearl Jam, I would seclude myself in the dank basement bedroom of my college apartment house to absorb the harmonies of Robertson, Ivan Neville and the ethereal voice of Aaron Neville. (more…)

Robbie Robertson’s recorded output with his legendary band — that is, The Band — and his solo career would seem like different beasts on the surface. While The Band was known for its exploration of the various forms of American roots music — folk, country, and rhythm and blues — his solo recordings have aimed for a more expansive sound, incorporating electronic instrumentation, prog-rock arrangements, and even dance remixes. But beyond that, Robertson’s solo career actually follows a similar level of output as The Band: two good albums (or in the case of The Band’s first two, great albums), followed by a few more middling works, and then absolutely nothing for at least a decade. Eleven years passed between The Last Waltz and Robbie Robertson, and it was ten years this March that Robertson’s most recent record (Contact From the Underworld of Red Boy) came out. Don’t expect that drought to be broken any time soon: The only times in the last few years that Robertson has been attached to music was to help oversee The Band’s 2005 retrospective box set, and to make an abbreviated appearance at Eric Clapton’s Crossroads guitar festival last year.

Robertson’s solo career also follows a similar pattern as to his time both within The Band, and after their breakup: the pattern of being a flaming jag-off. How much a jerk you believe Robertson to be is usually inversely proportional to how much you like his former Band-mate, Levon Helm, since most of the more juicy tales about Robertson are tied to the decades-long feud between the two men.

-Both blame the other for the suicide of The Band’s Richard Manuel. Robertson blames Helm because Helm supposedly dragged Manuel along on the sans-Robertson incarnation of The Band, putting more pressure on the depressed and alcoholic Manuel until he got to the breaking point and hung himself in his Florida hotel room during a 1986 tour. Helm blames Robertson for breaking up The Band via his unilateral decision, and leading Manuel to be in no financial position to to afford proper treatment (since Robertson controlled almost all the songwriting and publishing royalties), and contends that re-forming The Band actually allowed Manuel to survive longer, regardless of his tragic end coming on tour. Robertson would eulogize Manuel on the opening track of his first solo album, “Fallen Angel” (download). (more…)

Rod Stewart’s 1991 cover of Robbie Robertson’s “Broken Arrow” (download) is perhaps the biggest hit that I’ll cover in my series. The third single off of Rod’s Vagabond Heart album, “Broken Arrow” peaked at #20 on Billboard’s Hot 100 Chart and #3 on the AC chart, and the video (featuring Rod’s latest blonde at the time, Rachel Hunter), was a staple for months on both MTV and VH1, (yes, yes, back when they actually played videos). It could be assumed that the reason Rod gives such a heartfelt performance here is because of his love for Ms. Hunter at the time of its recording. For, while it is true that Stewart has moved from woman to woman throughout his life at almost regular intervals, it does seem that for the period of time that he is with his latest paramour, he is genuinely in love. And judging by his performance on this track, Stewart must have been quite smitten with Hunter.

In “Broken Arrow,” like many of his performances discussed in this series, Rod once again gingerly walks the tightrope of his most obvious vocal impulses of this period — screaming and whispering — without tipping over the edge. In the original Rolling Stone review for Vagabond Heart, Don McCleese states that Rod “doesn’t quite connect” with the song, but I don’t agree. I think McCleese probably got sidetracked by two things about the recording — things that in my opinion actually show the strengths of Rod’s performance. (more…)