Whenever a rock group loses a key member, it’s natural for skepticism to run high when they try and do something new. The Band faced that issue perhaps more than most when they released their 1993 album Jericho, their first full-length record of new material in 16 years and their first without founding members Robbie Robertson (who had left the group) and Richard Manuel (who had passed away).
Videos by American Songwriter
The three remaining core members (Levon Helm, Rick Danko, and Garth Hudson) teamed up with some musicians with whom they’d been playing live and, after some record company-hopping, released the album on Pyramid Records to mixed critical notices and little commercial fanfare. That was a shame, because those who took the time to give it a chance without overburdening it with comparisons to the past likely found a whole lot to like.
Overcoming the ‘80s
Considering how tough a decade the ‘80s was for The Band, it was a testament to the dedication of Danko, Helm, and Hudson that they managed to pull back together for some new music. While Robertson went on to become a sought-after producer, soundtrack composer, and, in the latter part of the decade, solo artist, the four remaining Band members struggled both as solo artists and in attempting to drum up much attention for their tours together.
Around 1985, The Band began prepping for a potential comeback album. But a year later, Manuel committed suicide in a hotel room following a Band show at a tiny venue in Florida. Although the remaining three would continue playing shows occasionally as a unit, there didn’t seem to be much momentum for any kind of reunion album.
The remaining trio did give it another go at the beginning of the ‘90s, though, recording the bare bones of an album with writer Jules Shear that included Shear chipping in on some lead vocals. But that record was turned down by Sony Records at the time.
New Collaborators and Familiar Faces
The Band made an appearance at the 1992 concert in Madison Square Garden honoring Bob Dylan’s 30th anniversary in music, giving a rousing performance of Bob Dylan’s “When I Paint My Masterpiece,” which they had first recorded all the way back in 1971, on the Cahoots album. By the summer of the following year, they were back in the studio, and this time they came out of the sessions with a completed album.
On Jericho, Helm, Hudson, and Danko were joined by Jim Weider, Richard Bell, and Randy Ciarlante, all of whom had been touring with The Band for a few years by then. (Stan Szelest, who had also been a touring member, died in 1991, but is featured on a few recordings on the album that were made prior to the ’93 sessions.)
The decision was also made to feature Richard Manuel in some way, since he was such an integral part of what made the band special. As such, a cover of the classic “Country Boy,” recorded in the mid-‘80s, was included, featuring Manuel’s soulful growl at its most touching. (Robertson was not asked to participate, and it’s hard to imagine that he would have accepted anyway, as relations between Helm and him were not great at that time.)
One other song that was recorded a bit earlier turned out to be one of Jericho’s undeniable high points. On paper, the Arkansan drawl of Helm rolling through a version of Bruce Springsteen’s “Atlantic City” might have sounded odd. But ever the game interpreter, Helm absolutely slays on the track, while the rest of the ensemble charges alongside him and Danko comes beaming in with his high harmonies.
On the whole, cover songs were a big part of Jericho, as might be expected considering Robertson had been the principal songwriter in the group’s original incarnation. But considering some of the major songwriters they tackled on the album, it’s not like they were struggling for material. Their version of Bob Dylan’s stunning “Blind Willie McTell” was one of the first times that anyone had heard the song, as Bob had famously left it on the cutting-room floor when it was first recorded. Danko and Helm trade off on the verses and make this weighty composition approachable.
Other excellent tracks included the album-opener, “Remedy,” which continued the group’s tradition of opening albums with something rollicking and fun; “Too Soon Gone,” written by Jules Shear and Stan Szelest as a tribute to Manuel and given a supremely tender reading by Danko; and “The Caves of Jericho,” which Helm co-wrote with John Simon (the producer of The Band’s earliest albums and on board here as co-producer as well) and Aaron Hurwitz. That latter song serves as a thematic link of sorts to other Band historical epics like “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” and “Acadian Driftwood,” and it stands up very well in that company.
Perhaps the best way to view Jericho is as a kind of cousin to The Band’s 1973 album Moondog Matinee, which was an all-covers record. The songs are well-chosen, the performances are first-rate, and you get more than a whiff of that old indefinable magic that these men always possessed when they sat and played together, with the wonderful vocals of Helm and Danko playing off Hudson’s instrumental dexterity just as in the old days. Freed from unrealistic expectations and unfair comparisons to Music from Big Pink and the Brown Album, this unheralded record proves itself as a worthy addition to the legacy of one of the most special groups in rock history.
Photo by Rob Loud/Getty Images
