It is the nightmare, the pain, the echo of which is probably somewhere in the kidneys of all artists: There is this deadline, a really hot one, by which you have to have the great, important work ready. But there is also a train on platform 1, the train to somewhere, which is already steaming and which you definitely shouldn’t miss. Time cannot be stopped, although it would be appropriate here for once. Actually, everything can only go wrong.
Robbie Robertson, guitarist, songwriter, early rock visionary wearing hat and glasses, experienced this in June 1970. The Band was the unmistakable name of his country-folk-rock’n’roll supergroup, founded at home in Canada, which had long gone down in history as Bob Dylan’s wildest backing and partner band. The squat troupe that could write huge soul songs, which were covered by Aretha Franklin to Frank Sinatra to Juliane Werding (“Conny Kramer”), and for whom Martin Scorsese shot “The Last Waltz” in 1976, one of the best rock concert films.
In 1970, The Band had just finished recording their third album in a Woodstock theater. The mixing, i.e. the coarse and fine paintwork in terms of sound technology, the important final part of the production, in which you can even ruin a masterpiece without need, was still pending.
But the band had to catch the Festival Express. A Canadian National Railways train with a length of 14 special cars in which she and Janis Joplin, den Grateful Dead and other loose companions should go on an extensive, pre-programmed chaotic tour of Canada. Robertson, feeling responsible for the sound result, had no choice. He had to leave the mixing process in someone else’s hands, without being able to sit behind the neck of the sound engineers and have a say.
Like a rock and roll terminator from the future who does the job he let others do back then
“Since then, I’ve lived with a certain restlessness for 50 years,” says Robertson today, at 77, from his studio in Los Angeles, when talking about the Zoom line. “I always lacked the feeling of fulfillment with this album. Now I finally have it.”
“Stage Fright”, The Band’s album, has just been re-released for the weird 51st anniversary. But it is not one of the routine “Remastered Edition” packages in which only the general sound image is overhauled and new filters are placed over the music so that it better corresponds to the current state of listening habits and home systems – and, if in doubt, beats out the speakers with even more wooden beams to be able to assert oneself against the merciless dynamics of newer songs.
No, Robertson, together with famous producer Bob Clearmountain, made the original tapes from 1970. Has polished and polished all instruments and voices separately, freshly sounded out the volume ratios and effects, and put everything together again. The fact that he has also rearranged the order of the pieces makes the 2021 edition of “Stage Fright” a special case. It’s like Robbie Robertson traveled back to 1970. As if, like a rock and roll terminator from the future, he had retrospectively done the job that he had others do because of the train journey.
In 2003 the Beatles album “Let It Be” was released without the effect Schlonz that Phil Spector had grafted on in 1970
Such complete remixes were frowned upon in the music business for a long time. While the cinema accepted the subsequent “Director’s Cut” as a coherent form, the studios were reluctant to touch the authority of the original mixes that had milled into the subconscious of the audience for years. This has gradually changed over the past 20 years. Probably also because re-releases for the record companies grew into an ever greater factor in sales.
So, for example, came in 2003 Beatles-Album “Let It Be” in a completely remixed version, for which the effect Schlonz had been removed again, which producer Phil Spector had grafted on in 1970. Further Beatles recordings went through partly radical, but all the more apt and useful arrangements, while in the progressive rock genre the musician Steven Wilson established himself as a kind of chief restorer for whole series of historical albums. Ozzy Osbourne gave the remix instead of remaster idea a bizarre twist when he deleted the contributions of disgraced musicians from old records and had his current favorites re-recorded for subsequent editions.
—“It was never about making documentaries. I wanted to make films.” – Robbie Robertson.
(Photo: Don Dixon)
—
“The earlier, familiar versions are still available without any problems,” says Robbie Robertson, slightly annoyed, defending the objection that such general overhauls can also be seen as a form of cultural distortion of history. “If people want the old mix better, let me keep them listening. This is about what I want.”
Whether Robertson has really reconstructed the original work intention here or whether he and Bob Clearmountain will in the end serve the listener’s expectation of 2021, that cannot be clarified even with the greatest possible equestrian mastery. All that remains is the listening test – which initially shows that the difference between the old and the new “Stage Fright” version is barely noticeable at normal room volume or with smartphone headphones. Only when you listen more carefully do you register the progress. In the title track, for example, a salon rock rock sung by bassist Rick Danko, the organ and piano sound much warmer and more differentiated, the drums less musty. The whole ensemble appears more harmoniously balanced. The fact that Robertson’s guitar, which rang dominantly in the original mix, now tends to sink more into the overall sound, is the best argument against any suspicion that he merely wanted to enhance his own contributions.
From now on you will hear the new version of “Stage Fright” better than the old one
And how unbeatably golden the harmony songs of the band sounded can only now really be heard in the Appalachian soul “Daniel and the Sacred Harp”. They are nuances, not completely new interpretations. They don’t change the fact that “Stage Fright” remains the more stubborn, fragmentary record compared to the band’s first two albums.
But even if you shouldn’t have any illusions about the motivations of the remixers, who primarily supply record companies with fresh products that cause low production costs and therefore offer top profit margins: From now on you will prefer to hear the new version of “Stage Fright” than the old one. Because it simply seems to convey better how the musicians meant their music. That doesn’t necessarily apply to every remix project.
“Bob Dylan placed a lot less emphasis on sound in the studio,” says Robertson. “He wanted to capture moments while people like me are more of a designer. I always wanted the musicality to get the right lighting, the right angle. It was never about making documentaries. I wanted to make films.” And the rest of the world can finally hear “Stage Fright” in color.
– .
