Every group (athletes, artists, executives) requires at least one MVP who is willing (and, often, needs) to cede the spotlight, be content to stay out of the fray, avoid the spotlights, not require accolades, and flip the gears that make the wheels spin and shine. Inevitably, those willing (or needing) to be out front appreciate this, and acknowledge where the real power resides.
In virtually every interview I ever saw or read with members of The Band, they didn’t merely appreciate Garth Hudson, they all but worshipped him: for his excellence, his calm command, his quiet wisdom, his genius. Arguably the most talented group of musicians, man for man, of their era, it’s easy to isolate the individual moments of brilliance, always on display, from each member, but it’s impossible to not eventually, inevitably hone in on Hudson, who is pumping the oxygen into the room, creating the at times busy and sometimes blank (as Miles Davis admonished, sometimes we can say more with silence) backdrops, and almost invisibly orchestrating all this joyful noise. In a band full of legit tortured souls, undone by demons, envy, and an understandable inability, perhaps, to comprehend, much less harness, the sum of their indescribable skill-set, Garth perpetually seemed at peace, comfortable with who he was and what he was about; it’s easy to imagine none of this considerable magic gets pulled off without the bearded guy behind the scenes. Rest well maestro.
Everyone here is now gone, hopefully on to bigger and better adventures, but my lord so much to be grateful for, and how art always makes a sometimes awful world not only more bearable, but exciting to be a small part of.
