Worth the weight

Press, 3 December 1987, Page 26

Worth the weight

ROBBIE ROBERTSON “Robbie Robertson” (Geffen, GHS, GHS 24160). “Bear witness,” Robertson sings in his first solo album, “I’m wailin’ like the wind ... the half breed rides again.” It wouldn’t be quite correct to call this fascinating return to form a long-awaited album. Probably no-one outside the record company expected Robbie Robertson, one-time leader of The Band, to ever produce an album of his own again.

He had produced film soundtracks and written a few songs since “The Last Waltz” concert 10 years ago, and had talked vaguely about working on some sort of magnum opus, but he made no effort to reassemble The Band — arguably, along with Talking Heads, the most original rock group America has seen — or start a new one.

Robbie Robertson has told “The Los Angeles Times” that he didn’t know whether he had anything left to say. It might be cynical to observe that any songwriter worth his salt shold be able to stock up on an album’s worth of things to say in 10 years, but some touted rock comebacks after a long time have been critical failures. t Robertson’s next album may be the real test, but for now, “Robbie Robertson” is evidence that the man still has the spirit and inspiration that kept The Band going. He has reached back to his Indian background (his mother was an American Indian) for some of the themes, such as “Hell’s Half Acre,” and told one interviewer that he tried for an Indian feel in all the songs. His singing style is still reminiscent of The

Band, but the sound is far from it. The Band had experimented with horns and a variety of insruments, but this album is new technology used to the limit — a layered, atmospheric sound partly due to the efforts of U2 and a new American band, BoDeans.

Robertson’s reedy singing voice was always somewhat weak compared with his mates, and he usually kept it in the background. His forte was the guitar solo, and still is. But he manages to use his voice here more effectively as an instrument, as Van Morrison does so well, sometimes singing only snatches of phrases at a time. The result is effective.

U2, providing some of the modern sound, also co-wrote one of the songs with Robertson, “Sweet Fire of Love.” Robertson is still working on the same themes, but in a slightly different way. The sound remains crystal clear, even with its detail. And Robertson remains a myth-maker, an interpreter of North American symbols. “Can you see what I see, can you cut behind the mystery?” he asks on “Broken Arrow,” and when on “Fallen Angel” — dedicated to former Band member Richard Manuel, who killed himself while on a Band (without Robertson) tour last year — he asks: “Are you listening, can you hear me?”, he is not just talking to a dead friend.

Some years ago, Robertson wrote “Ring Your Bell,” and Its words are echoes on “Showdown at Big Sky,” with Its crescendo sounds and warnings against war. There will be a “darkness at high noon,” he sings, similar to that closing In on “Look Out Cleveland” so many

years ago. “Give us the strength, give us the wisdom, and give us tomorrow,” he says. Robertson’s voice is sometimes a growl. On one song — “Down the Crazy River” it is close to the style of Tom Waits. Even though Robertson has that kind of speaking voice, he hasn’t used it this way before in a song. “I’m a man with a clear destination,” •he sings, “with a broad imagination ...” In “Hell’s Half Acre,” a Vietnam song, the damage to the Indian soldier “was already done” back home, long before the war. “Testimony,” the last track of nine — none of which sounds like a filler — Robertson sings: “In these hands, I have held the broken dream.” His last song, “Between Trains,” had been in 1983, part of the “King of Comedy” soundtrack. It has been a long time between songs, but as a publicity blurb for the “Northern Lights, Southern Cross” album said way back when, The Weight was worth it. — STAN DARLING