Let’s start with some common ground. Almost everyone agrees that art is a subjective endeavor. One man’s coffee is another man’s tea, one man’s whiskey is another man’s…Yet, there are some works so bold in structure and transcendent in spirit that they demand a modicum of awe from any who witness it. You’ve seen it. You’ve heard it. You’ve felt it. And when you did, you knew.
In my mind, as modern music goes, a song that checks these boxes and then some is “The Weight” by The Band. I once told Wendy I think it may be a perfect song. She posited that, to her, a perfect song is one that bridges generational, racial, cultural, and demographic differences to bring a unified sense of joy to the listener. Probably something written by Stevie Wonder or The Beatles. Something played by Louis Armstrong. Hard to argue with that.
Yet, sometimes perfection lies in the mysterious, a cosmic riddle that must be reckoned with. It’s trying to unravel the taut yet ambiguous tale of “Pancho and Lefty”. It’s reconciling that “Graceland” isn’t just Elvis’ home in Memphis, it’s a holy state of grace that Paul Simon wishes for his son and himself. And sometimes, it’s pulling into Nazareth, feeling about half-past dead.
The New York Times called “The Weight”, “a fable…a series of set-ups and punchlines. A stolid march and a potential hymn.” It is that and more. It is a book of spells, its pages yellowed by miles encased in an oracle’s leather bag. It’s scripture, cut up, tossed in the air and reassembled as if William Burroughs wrote one of the Gospels. It’s a user’s manual, offering instruction on how to make your way through this world, especially when idiosyncratic characters cross your path, making their demands and turning their backs. It is a map, wordless yet filled with lines and symbols the traveler must unknot for themself.
It’s got a touch of what poet John Keats called “negative capability”, poetry’s relationship to what is not known. He described this as ‘an ability for being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact or reason.” Stop me if I’m gazing too deeply into the collective navel, but that’s what great art does: it sends us on a quest, often one with no guaranteed destination or end.
The Band’s greatest gift, aside from the cumulative talents of its five members, was their indelible sound, at once ancient and new. At a time music was leaning hard into the future, The Band reached back - into mountain hollers and church pews, traveling medicine shows and blood-strewn battlefields. Their music sounded like all of that and none of that. And not being able to precisely put one’s finger on what it was further forged the mystery, and that mystery was where the beauty resided.
“I wanted to write music that felt like it could’ve been written 50 years ago, tomorrow, yesterday — that had this lost-in-time quality,” said Robbie Robertson. And while the arguments will continue over whether Robbie was the sole writer of all those songs, or if his bandmates contributed without proper credit, the timeless quality of the music is inarguable.
“The Weight” - because the question has been asked of Robertson thousands of times - is reportedly about people that Robbie, Levon, and others met, stitched together in a mythic mosaic. The films of Luis Buñuel and Ingmar Bergman also cast shadows over the enigmatic verses. Certainly, Max Von Sydow’s knight in The Seventh Seal comes to mind, engaged in a chess match with Death for his very soul.
The town of Nazareth (as in Nazareth, Pennsylvania) was chosen because it was the home of Martin Guitars. Robertson sat down to work on the song, peered inside the sound hole of his six-string, saw the words “Nazareth, Pennsylvania” and an opening line was born. Fate can be kind like that. Yet, despite the workaday geography of the song’s setting, the mind can also be drawn to the town Jesus’ family settled in when they left Egypt after fleeing King Herod. A little Biblical subtext never hurts when crafting a story awash in ambiguity and curious archetypes, whether it’s a chess match with Death or bumping into Carmen and the Devil when looking for a place to hide.
Ultimately, Robertson confessed that the song is the tale of a guy who wanders into an unfamiliar town, tries to do right by each stranger he meets, and ultimately finds “I’ve got myself in this incredible predicament.” Perhaps the song is so perfect because we’ve all been there in some regard. The right thing, however noble, should often come with a warning label. The road to Nazareth is paved with good intentions.
Of course, what seals the otherworldly quality of this song is the musicianship of The Band. Robbie’s tight guitar work and the ramshackle harmonies make the round-robin chorus soar with hopefulness (“Take a load off, Fanny, take a load for free”) before it drops into weary acquiescence (…”And you put the load right on me”). Levon Helm’s vocal cords were a gift we can never fully repay and Rick Danko’s take on the fourth verse is a mesmerizing study in the beauty of imperfection. His voice is not a traditional one, not what you expect to hear after three verses of Levon’s finely-sandpapered delivery. It’s odd, jarring, a tad hyper, and a little broken. And it’s just right, a whiskey chaser after a sip of honey.
If you really want to witness something wondrous, watch and listen to The Band’s performance of “The Weight” from The Last Waltz, with The Staple Singers. Levon gladly relinquishes a verse or two so that we may be ushered to the altar call that is Mavis Staples’ performance and then baptized in the warmth of Pops Staples’ sanctuary of a voice. A perfect song deserves a perfect performance.
It may be nonsense, to try to elevate a song to such lofty status. Perfection is, after all, a bit of a trap. By 21st-century musical standards, “The Weight” is far from perfect. It’s rough around the edges. It doesn’t sound like anything on the radio right now. It’s not about unrequited love or careless sex or being in your feelings. And yet, it’s never been more timely. Despite our best intentions, we’re collectively asking “How did we get in this incredible predicament?” We’re also feeling an enormous societal and spiritual weight, a distrust of those we once assumed were good citizens of our own personal Nazareth. For many, the load has never been heavier.
The perfect work of art shows up as whatever we need it to be when we encounter it. On a good day, it brings us joy. On darker days, comfort. And on days when everything feels off-balance and askew, that work invites us into a place we’ve never been to, yet recognize immediately.
After all, in the end, we’re all just looking for a place we can lay our head.
The Weight
WRITTEN BY: J.R. ROBERTSON
I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin' about half past dead;
I just need some place where I can lay my head.
"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand, and "No!", was all he said.
Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free;
Take a load off Fanny, And (and) (and) you can put the load right on me.
I picked up my bag, I went lookin' for a place to hide;
When I saw Carmen and the Devil walkin' side by side.
I said, "Hey, Carmen, come on, let's go downtown."
She said, "I gotta go, but m'friend can stick around."
Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free;
Take a load off Fanny, And (and) (and) you can put the load right on me.
Go down, Miss Moses, there's nothin' you can say
It's just ol' Luke, and Luke's waitin' on the Judgement Day.
"Well, Luke, my friend, what about young Anna Lee?"
He said, "Do me a favor, son, woncha stay an' keep Anna Lee company?"
Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free;
Take a load off Fanny, And (and) (and) you can put the load right on me.
Crazy Chester followed me, and he caught me in the fog.
He said, "I will fix your rack, if you'll take Jack, my dog."
I said, "Wait a minute, Chester, you know I'm a peaceful man."
He said, "That's okay, boy, won't you feed him when you can."
Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free;
Take a load off Fanny, And (and) (and) you can put the load right on me.
Catch a cannon ball now, t'take me down the line
My bag is sinkin' low and I do believe it's time.
To get back to Miss Fanny, you know she's the only one.
Who sent me here with her regards for everyone.
Take a load off Fanny, take a load for free;
Take a load off Fanny, And (and) (and) you can put the load right on me.
This song is truly perfect in my eyes, and your ode to it here is pretty close! Since Robbie died I've been listening to The Band (and lots of his solo songs), and this deep dive into "The Weight" was the accompaniment I didn't know I needed. I learned a lot from you just now about a song I've heard thousands of times.
Wow. Just wow