The death of musician Garth Hudson in January marked a grim milestone: all five original members of The Band are now deceased. Yet their musical legacy — as Bob Dylan’s backing group and as their own influential cadre of roots players — looms large. For local author Stephen T. Lewis, it was time for pianist Richard Manuel to get his due. Lewis penned Manuel’s authorized biography, “Richard Manuel: His Life and Music, from the Hawks and Bob Dylan to The Band,” which is set for a June 17 release via Schiffer Publishing; CITY talked to the author to learn more.
CITY: You started writing the book, not on spec, but just as a passion project, in 2021?
Lewis: I saw the Robbie Robertson documentary “Once Were Brothers” and I thought Richard’s presence was underrepresented. That started the wheels turning. I’d written about [Richard] a couple times. I’d written about The Band, and I’d gotten some people who had sent messages like, “This guy needs a book.” So that was in the back of my head. I had been stockpiling ideas for quite a long time and had notes, and I’ve always done concert reviews and bootlegs. I had some raw material. Then it was time to start doing interviews.
CITY: Did you ever check with Richard’s family about certain material? You wrote about the nature of his death and his alcohol addiction — was that taken care of ahead of time based on the trust you had built with them?
Lewis: They knew that Richard was defined by a lot of that, unfortunately. I talked with his son. I said it’s the elephant in the room, so I needed to talk about it, but I didn’t need to belabor it. There was no double-checking. Honestly, the family hasn’t read the book yet, though they’re getting their copies when I get my copies. They’re first on the list. [Richard’s wife] Arlie Manuel wanted to read the book [first]. That was one of the best moments I had. She [said], “I love Richard, and you got his essence. I could feel Richard in this book.”
CITY: You interviewed over 40 people for this book, right? Was there a particular conversation that stands out to you that was especially revealing about Richard as a person?
Lewis: All the conversations with his family, obviously, but Eric Clapton, because Eric and Richard were like parallel paths. Eric made it. Richard didn’t. That’s the big difference. Eric talks about being in a room with your instrument and that being the most dangerous part for a creative where, if you’re not feeling confident or creative in what you do, there’s always this bottle here, or there’s always this powder here, and it’s the decision [as] to what you’re going to do. It’s a losing battle. He goes into it much more succinctly and with more detail than I’m saying, but he had this insight, like, “I was lucky enough to have someone, my manager, who wanted to get me into a 12-step [program] and who kept me in it.” When I interviewed Eric, I asked him, “So, did music save you?” And he’s like, “I didn’t want anything to do with music. That was part of the problem.” I could see it in Richard. I could see exactly what he was talking about.
CITY: It seems like there was this duality to Richard. On the one hand, compared to some other members of The Band, he comes across as more soft spoken and in the background in terms of his personality. But on the other hand, he was clearly playful and a jokester. But then he wrote so beautifully and with such deep interest.
Lewis: The whole thing with Levon [Helm] or Robbie or with the songwriting [credit] — I kind of steer clear that, because Richard wrote songs. There’s no debate. The debate is whether they were attributed correctly. But when you really listen to Richard’s music, he’s a different writer. Robbie? Fantastic writer, storyteller, almost like fiction characters. Richard? Very internal, you know? When you listen to “Lonesome Suzie,” Suzie was a real girl. These things were things that he felt deeply and lived in his life. This is me taking making assumptions, but when you look at those Band tracks, you can feel the marriages. That’s why I mention in the book about Robbie and Richard: [it was] just, I hate to say it, a wasted opportunity for both of them. They had the potential to be anything, as far as a songwriting partnership. But to your point about Richard’s writing, it’s hard to get the essence. I say in the book that it’s like shoveling smoke, because you feel like you got it, and then it just goes away.
CITY: Am I right in thinking in that, in terms of creative partnerships, of all the members of The Band, he was the one with whom Dylan had the most synergy in terms of their output?
Lewis: They had a weird relationship. They both had a really good sense of humor. There’s a photo in the book of Richard with a hat and this beaming grin, and Dylan looking at him, and they’re laughing. I found it on a contact sheet at the Barry Feinstein estate. And I was like, this has to be in the book because that’s their relationship. But, to answer your question, that was a weird time. Richard was just becoming a songwriter in the basement. He had been writing songs in The Rebels. But, as Robbie says in his book, that moment when they wrote “Tears of Rage” took everything to another level for the group [for] Richard’s songwriting. That is a critical moment for everything in the book. Everyone talks about “The Basement Tapes” and how Dylan did this for The Band — he brought them in and he gave them the gumption to record their own album. But what I say is they taught Bob how to sing, you know what I mean? You listen to “John Wesley Harding” and “Nashville Skyline” after they came out of the basement. That’s a whole new vocal approach from Bob. And when you listen to those basement reels, you can hear the three of them singing together: Bob, Rick [Danko] and Richard. It’s unlike anything the Hawks did and unlike anything Dylan did. It was this new conglomerate of joyful music. Bob and Richard’s relationship was very unique, special, based in humor but mutual respect and musicality. Bob didn’t write with many people.
CITY: Why do you think Richard, out of all the members of The Band, has fallen through the cracks in terms of people’s knowledge and understanding of him and his importance to the group?
Lewis: No matter who it is, when you have a tragic demise like that, I think that’s what people remember. Over time, The Band reuniting and moving forward without Richard and Robbie, that was another thing, even though they always included a Richard song on those albums — which was a testament to their love for Richard. “The Last Waltz” has a lot to do with it. That was the neat little bow on their career, and there’s not one Richard Manuel-penned song played that night. Not one. I just think that’s insane, you know? One thing I think I did in the book is popped out a number of reasons why he shouldn’t be forgotten.
Lewis will discuss the book at 2 p.m. on Saturday, May 31 at Bop Shop Records, 1460 Monroe Ave. Early copies will be available. More info on the event here, and publishing/purchasing information available here.
Excerpt from “Richard Manuel: His Life and Music, from the Hawks and Bob Dylan to The Band” by Stephen T. Lewis (Schiffer Publishing)
The chemical reaction between Robbie and Richard had been reactivated: Richard was asked to lend vocals to a Tom Petty song, “The Best of Everything,” which also featured Garth. Robbie had been producing the cut for “The Color of Money” soundtrack, but record company red tape kept it from being released until Petty’s 1985 album, “Southern Accents.”
“The Best of Everything” was a beautiful Tom Petty composition that he called a favorite. Robbie produced it — adding sturdy horns, along with Garth and Richard — and executed the most Band-like version of a non-Band song recorded. Richard’s harmony vocals are intensely passionate and embrace Petty’s lead, like a flowering vine wrapping around the sturdy slats of a fence.
Richard joins Petty on the chorus:
Wherever you are tonight
I wish you the best of everything in the world
And honey, I hope you found
Whatever you were looking for
Richard comforts the edges of the notes, and at the end of the second line he sings “in the world” and elevates the song to a new place of exposed honesty, cracking open the melody, revealing its true intent. It’s a poignant musical moment that defies explanation and, in a way, is as significant as Richard’s debut vocals on “Music from Big Pink.” Very few singers in the world could offer a song what Richard gave freely and effortlessly.
Daniel J. Kushner is a contributor to CITY.
This article appears in Dec 1-31, 2024.
