Following up Music from Big Pink is no small feat. So soon after their debut album, The Band reintroduce themselves with a self-titled powerhouse. Americana concepts are obvious, but it’s what the group manages to pull off with such observations that matters most of all. That desire to leave the one-horse town, whatever that may be and wherever it is, flows so well. It’s a call to arms which The Band embeds in every one of the songs featured on this self-titled studio album. Some of The Band’s best-ever songs, their biggest hits, can be found on here. They’re found on Music from Big Pink too, of course, but crucially the overlap between the two albums is of musical merit, not of similar tones. The Band is a massive step, arguably their best work, and so early into their recording careers too. They’d had success backing Bob Dylan, but they step out of his shadow with an album that rivals the meaningful spirit and tone Blonde on Blonde had set a few years ago.
Thematic continuation is crucial for The Band. Opening track Across the Great Divide is sensational. Its hints of death and making the transition to whatever lay beyond, but matching that with a jovial sentiment found in the brass additions, it’s a rather beautiful start. As much is continued on Rag Mama Rag, a sensational song to lose yourself in as The Band display an instrumental confidence like few other could around this time. Americana tones drift in and out of view with some moments feeling like caricature characters coming together under the common goal The Band has in mind, but there’s plenty of spirit to be had in hearing what their worldview is. The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down is another early masterclass. Strengths like that are a constant for The Band, those touching, slowed tones as the fade out of When You Awake comes through are clear thrills. But what all these instrumental flourishes mean is the lyrical choices are even clearer.
Up on Cripple Creek is nothing short of delightful, the story unfolding into that dependence on those who fix our leaks. It’s complimentary, calming, but, crucially, a sensational vocal performance from Levon Helm. They’re juxtaposed well by Whispering Pines, a gut punch of a song that dares to ask what would happen if you stick around a wilting love, waiting for it to collapse in on itself. Doing so just isn’t right, but The Band makes a compelling argument for clinging to comfort even when it’s no longer there. Rockin’ Chair brings us to that far off future, not far enough to ignore but too far off to worry about, where the belief of what to do is too late to act upon. The Band are stunning when it comes to those songs of reflective, flourishing stylings, even when they’re young enough to not have had that worldly experience cited by their living peers in modern times.
An incredible B-side album run, with Jawbone and The Unfaithful Servant particular highlights, gives The Band that little push extra. What strikes as so strange, yet so comforting, is the clarity with which The Band works. They’re not pulling any punches for the sake of their setting, nor are they trying to cram an emotionally powerful message into a song that just doesn’t have room. Everything is balanced with a real skill that comes through on Music from Big Pink. Having a vague theme, the Americana living and that dream of peace being punctured by the real world which listeners have no choice but to live in, is a remarkable experience. The Band has all of that and more, sharp instrumental work can be found across the album and that sentiment, that honesty which keeps The Band in conversation with the best of them, is a constant here.
