The Story of the Midnight Rambler

            Levon Helm, singer and drummer of The Band, died on April 19 after losing a battle with throat cancer. He was 71.

A now mostly-forgotten voice of the South, Helm leaves behind a hole in both Americana and rock and roll that will never be filled again. Sharp in his growl, electrifying in performance and enigmatic in his persona, Helm was honestly an American icon.

            You’ve probably forgotten the names of the songs or how the words go exactly, but as soon as you hear his distinctive, and at times haunting, bark you remember exactly why it was that you loved The Band.

            He was one of a kind, but the world forgot about Levon Helm. Sure, he was still known in music circles and for his local concerts in Woodstock, N.Y. known as Midnight Rambles, but to the wider public he was just another old-timer. Helm was in fact an inspiration for generations of musicians. He was master of his art. He was a riverboat gambler. He was an unforgiving critic. At the end of the day, he can only be described one way: he was Levon.

            I remember the first time I heard “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” Music was never the same after that. I judged everything else through a scope measured by that song. It’s an unfair comparison in retrospect, but it seemed right for a long time. That song didn’t just sum up the tensions still simmering from the Civil War. It didn’t just sum up the South. It was an introspective look at the heart and backbone of America itself. It created a triumphant sense of defeat, a colossal collapse of body but not spirit; it was the phoenix rising from the ashes of old hopes and dreams. It changed the way many people looked at America and American music.

            People like Helm come around once in a lifetime. He wasn’t just a drummer in a band. He was the pounding backbeat for the narration of American history. Looking back, it’s impossible to tell where the musician ends and the fable begins. That’s what makes him legendary.

            Figures like Levon Helm don’t really die. They become a part of history, eventually fictionalized to heroic proportions. They become part of folklore. Some people will say if you listen hard enough you can still hear his Appalachian cry in the wind. So goodnight, Levon Helm. Yours will be the story of the Midnight Rambler, claimed by history to be remembered as more of a myth than a man.