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.

Santorum Suspends His Run

            The improbable roller coaster ride that was the Santorum Campaign has finally called it quits. The often despicable but occasionally eloquent Santorum was the last real obstacle between Mitt Romney and the GOP nomination. And while we are undoubtedly getting rid of what would have been the worst presidential nominee in American history, we are losing something even greater than that: the last really honest person running for President of the United States.

            The former senator from Pennsylvania is a religious nutcase and financial hypocrite. He was so despised for his comments about homosexuality that his name became synonymous with the frothy byproduct of anal sex. He had no idea how to run a country or even a presidential campaign. He said whatever came into his mind, but never once doubted he was right. That’s what made Santorum so likeable. He honestly believed everything he was saying and that he was working for a greater good.

            Unlike other religious fanatics, Santorum never claimed that God intended him to be president. He was just an overly religious guy who happened to be running for president; one was not the product of the other, it was merely coincidence. And unlike fellow GOP hopefuls Romney and Gingrich, he was not the kind of “Washington insider” they despised, simply because he didn’t understand how Washington really worked. Sure he was a senator, but that’s a far cry from president.

            The unlikely dark horse candidate in this race, Santorum effectively seals the deal for Romney now. As goes Santorum, so goes the GOP. Romney will likely promise him some position in his cabinet if he endorses him (and suggests all his delegates follow Romney too).

It was a bitter end for the sweater-vested whirlwind that came out of nowhere. Unlike any other candidate running now, he always spoke from the heart and meant every word he said. He didn’t pander and he didn’t flip-flop. Sure, he was an asshole, but he was a painfully honest one. Who knows why he quit. Maybe hoping Romney will give him a cabinet spot. Maybe so he won’t be remembered as the guy who forced a brokered convention. Or maybe he just got tired of the monotony of the rat race.

But something tells me we haven’t seen the last of Rick Santorum.