Tag Archives: music from big pink

#1366: The Band – This Wheel’s on Fire

Back in 2018, The Band’s 1968 debut album Music from Big Pink was reissued for its 50th anniversary with a whole new stereo mix, constructed by engineer and producer Bob Clearmountain. I liked The Band’s 1969 self-titled album by that point. I’d never listened through …Big Pink before. And I sort of knew it was meant to be an important album for the culture at the time of its release, ushering a movement of a return to straight rock-and-roll by bands in 1968 after the psychedelic times of 1967. There was no better time to discover what I was missing. And, you know, I thought ‘The Weight’ was cool, it’s like the centerpiece that also happens to be one of their best-known songs. ‘Chest Fever’ with those organ breaks. Mmm, it was good listening. But the two numbers that stood out to me, I can remember that first run-through so well, were ‘In a Station’ – the album’s third song – and ‘This Wheel’s on Fire’, which comes a little later near its end.

A thing about The Band is, before they became known as their own entity outright, they were known for being Bob Dylan’s backing band during the 1966 tour where people were chastising him for “going electric” and supposedly spitting in the face of the folk movement. Dylan then had a motorcycle accident, retreated back to his home in Woodstock and made a ton of music with The Band in 1967. The results were released in 1975 as The Basement Tapes. Dylan and The Band recorded ‘This Wheel’s on Fire’, which closes out that album with a slow, shuffling rhythm. As Band bass guitarist Rick Danko helped Dylan write the track, they more or less had the right to do their own version of the song. And they did, as you may have witnessed from the embedded YouTube video above. The Band take it much faster, with much more urgency. Danko provides the lead vocal, pianist Richard Manuel joins in on harmony in the second half of the verses, and then drummer Levon Helm joins in to complete the three-part for the culminating choruses.

I think it’s been said that this is the one track Dylan wrote that truly references his accident at any length, with the wheel rolling down the road obviously belonging to his motorcycle. But apart from that, it’s really anyone’s guess. The narrator in this song declares they and another person will meet again, but only if that other person is able to remember. This other person will request favours from the narrator, who doesn’t really want to do them. And “no man will come to [them] with another tale to tell”, maybe because either they’ll forget or share these tales with other people. Seems to me that this song is about someone untrustworthy and generally unreliable. It’s all a guess. When I first heard ‘This Wheel’s on Fire’ and the chorus came in and finished, I thought to myself, “So this is who originally made that song.” I’d heard it years before as the theme song to the BBC show Absolutely Fabulous, which itself was a re-recording of the notable 1968 cover by Julie Driscoll, Brian Auger & the Trinity. My sister liked that show, it’s the only reason I would have known about it.

#619: The Band – In a Station

I’m not a massive follower of The Band. I do have to admit that their self-titled album from 1969 is great though. Has a lot of great songs on there that I haven’t talked about but will in the future. Until last year that was the only album of theirs that I listened to. Music from Big Pink, the album that today’s song is taken from, is all right in my eyes. The follow-up is much better. Though it must be said that Big Pink is probably one of the most important releases of the 60s. A lot of contemporaneous groups were influenced by its organic qualities and noted it as a way forward in music following the heavy psychedelia of 1967.

‘In a Station’ is the third number on here, written and sung by the band’s pianist Richard Manuel. The Band had three main singers: Manuel, drummer Levon Helm, and bassist Rick Danko. Out of the three, Manuel arguably had the best voice. He had a lot of soul in it. Very vulnerable and his delivery could be devastatingly heartbreaking on some songs. That’s not too different here. Manuel sings about walking through a station, noting what he sees and what he hears and wonders if the people he witnesses would ever care to have any sort of personal interaction with him. It’s quite an existential track topped with vivid imagery and quasi-philosophical lyricism.

The main focus musically is all in that centre channel where Manuel’s vocal is along with those rich keyboards by Garth Hudson and the rhythm section. Then Danko and Helm join in for some fantastic harmonies in the choruses. Robbie Robertson’s acoustic guitar is on the right and Manuel’s rhythm keyboard is on the left but they’re really hard to notice when you’re listening to the melodies in the vocal. It’s a very sincere song; it can really take you out of yourself for a few minutes.