Small Town Talk with Carol Caffin, publicist and close friend of the late Rick Danko of the Band


"I'm afraid if I give you an interview, that you'll stop talking to me." Rick Danko of the Band said those words to Carol Caffin, early in their friendship, which spanned ten years - a lifetime in Danko Standard Time. Certainly it felt like a lifetime for Mrs. Caffin as well, who continues to regularly document her time spent working as Danko's publicist on her blog Sip the Wine. As a teen wild about Bob Dylan, Caffin first spotted the Band on Saturday Night Live in 1976, and was utterly swept up from there. From lusting behind her television set to Allen Ginsberg doing shiatsu on her on their way to a Dylan concert, Carol Caffin is full of lively stories. Yet, her writing is limitlessly humble and her honest and passionate prose leave you feeling like Danko was your best friend. We spent over three hours chatting on the telephone back in April, and despite running on minimal sleep and reeling from personal tragedies, she was a truly engaging conversationalist. Her raspy East Coast accent jumped when mentioning first hearing Dylan, meeting Danko for the first time, and her Ginsberg story surely permitted giggles from both ends of the telephone line. Her tone also significantly dropped when she spoke of Danko’s passing, but she does not hesitate to live up to her promise of telling Danko’s story. She is the main protector of his larger than life legacy, and she ruthlessly fulfills this role, warts and all. I did my best to illustrate the musical timeline that runs perpendicular to her life, because rather than an “insider”, Carol is simply a music lover.


What is your first truly memorable moment of being absolutely taken with a piece of music?

Every memory I have in my life is associated with music - every important memory and some not so important memories. The thing is I was born in the sixties. I was just writing about this recently, because I realized that even as a toddler, on some intuitive or otherworldly level, I realized it was a special time. I was born in 1962. I was born as the residual crap fifties music was dying out. Not to say the fifties was a bad time for music, there was a lot of innovative music - but by '62, if you look at the charts, doo-wop is sort of becoming tired. It was a transitional year. The very first song that I remember in my life is "Downtown" by Petula Clark. I was a baby. It was the first song that I recognized that I wanted to hear. Then I think Peter Paul and Mary's "Blowin' in the Wind". The first song I ever bought with my own money was "Age of Aquarius". The first music that moved me, powerfully moved me, was "Positively 4th Street" by Bob Dylan. That was the first song where I said, "Oh. My. God." "Shelter from the Storm" may be my favorite Dylan song, but it’s hard for me to name my favorite Dylan song. The first song I discovered on my own - it wasn't my brother playing it or my mother playing it - I bought a Bob Dylan album. It was the one with "Positively 4th Street". There was this homeless man on the street in Philadelphia, and I saw this Bob Dylan album, and I bought it for a quarter. "Positively 4th Street" was the first song that I just literally had to stop, catch my breath, and play it again. I had never heard anything like that.

1976 was my first year of high school, and I would come home from school and literally look through the phonebook. I remember I called directory assistance in New York to get the phone number for John Lennon's music publishing company, and asking them if they needed anybody. I tried to fake an English accent. At that time, John Lennon was alive, and it was incredible, and I thought, "Some way, I'm gonna do this." It was just music, music, music. There was never a chance I wasn't gonna do it.

What was your first sort of insider moment, where you knew someone and became involved behind the scenes?

Well, there was a guy in 1982. I always did things in an unorthodox way, you have to know that. In 1982, I had been commuting to community college, and I was transfer student. That summer before I transferred, I worked in a record store. The Philadelphia music scene was really sort of happening. It was a local music scene, but Philly is a major city. There was a guy in Philly named Robert Hazard. He was really nobody outside of Philly, but in Philadelphia, he was the top local artist. I saw him one day doing an in-store signing in a record store, and I just passed him a note. I thought, "Oh my god! He's doing this; I would love for him to do this for our store!" I guess he thought I was coming onto him or something, but I wasn't! I was totally not thinking like that! I just wrote him a note and said, "Would you be able to do this at my store?" He gave me his manager's number, and hooked me up with his manager, and I set up this little appearance at a neighborhood store. He and I just clicked, and became friends. He knew that this was all I wanted to do, to be in the music business, and he decided that he was gonna show me the ropes a little bit. He invited me to go with him on a press day, and I met all these big people at radio stations and TV stations, where he was doing all these interviews. It turns out that he was on the cuff of relative stardom because he's the guy who wrote "Girls Just Want to Have Fun". He passed away a couple of years ago, and I was really very sad about it. I really had a place in my heart for him, because he did open some doors. There were like four big radio people I met that day, and I remained friendly with all of them. It doesn't sound like much, but for a kid in college... You know, I wasn't a groupie or anything, I didn't take drugs, I didn't sleep around, I wasn't looking to hook up with a rock star. In fact, I was such a good girl, that one of the first things Rick ever said to me was, "Oh man. You're one of them good girls, ain't ya?" I really wanted to work in music; I had no desire to just hang out. I never had a desire to be onstage, I was too shy to do that. I never felt like a frustrated musician, because I have no musical talent whatsoever. But I remember when I was kid, I can't explain it, but there's a certain smell of a concert hall. It’s almost like you can smell the instruments, and stage, and the amplifiers. When you go into a concert hall, its real cold, because they have the air turned up. There's just this aroma, it was, to me, what somebody else would consider being high. It makes your adrenaline just surge, and it makes your heart pump. Nothing gave me that feeling except music. Recording studios have that same smell, and I don't know if it’s the soundboard or the instruments. Then you'd hear that sound of the amplifiers, before the musicians went on, and nothing ever gave me that feeling, still to this day. And back then, there were no computers, no Google. So you had to figure it out for yourself, make up your own rules, or know someone. I just wondered, "How did the newspapers know when a group was coming to town? Who tells the newspapers?" I wanted to do that, I wanted to be involved in that.

"Me & Robert Hazard, just before his song "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" made Cyndi Lauper a star. September, 1982 - this was the first "promotion" I ever did - an in-store signing at a local Philly record store."

You mentioned that Robert Hazard thought you were hitting on him. Have you faced any hurdles being a woman in a predominately-male field?

You know what, I know this is probably not the standard answer, but I really never did. I knew where my head was. I got hit on many times. Of course you do, you get hit on and asked out. But when they know right from the beginning, what you're about, and that you're serious, and you handle yourself in a professional way... And your knowledge! When they see that you have the knowledge, and that you have the drive, and that you're not there to sleep with them or tag along - I think they learn very quick that this is someone who is real, and she's not trying to hang around or go out with some musician. I never really had that problem, I was really lucky for the most part. I met a lot of big people, mostly men - probably 80 to 90 percent men, when I first started, if not more. Its different now, but back then, there were men and a couple of women, and most of the women were there to hang out with the guys. But I really never encountered sexism that I can think of.

When did you start writing about music professionally?

I've always written about music. I worked for the school newspaper, and wrote about music in grade school, high school, and college. Throughout my life, I never thought of a cutoff point between doing it for myself and doing it professionally. So I can't say there was one moment, because even in college, my senior project was a fake rock band. I put a fake rock band together and did all the media for it, in the eighties. Everything was around music, and I was a music editor at a college paper.

So even before the Band, you were thoroughly immersed in music as your profession.

Oh yeah, oh yeah! Oh my god, I'm embarrassed to tell you the first concert I went to was Three Dog Night. Everything in my life is connected with music - every feeling, every loss. Some people have their career and some people have their hobby, and for me, since I was really young, I didn't even know what a career was. That was how young I was. I just wanted to "do music". I didn't know what form it was gonna take, but at some point, I guess I was in ninth grade. I just said to myself, "Since we do have to work, my work is going to be the same as my pleasure. There's not gonna be a difference. As long it involves music, or writing, or preferably both. And people, like three points on a triangle. Then I don't care what you call it, I don't care if there's a name for it." So that's what I did. I wrote for some local Philly weekly newspapers and local music magazines in the eighties. I also worked for an entertainment lawyer, in the eighties, before I met Rick. He was the top music lawyer in the city. Every single job that I had was with this tunnel vision. I was gonna learn all about each aspect of music. I worked in a record store, and I learned all the record labels and the distributors. I memorized them. I would go up and down the aisles. I wanted to know who distributed each label. I was obsessed. I can remember getting in trouble at school because of music. I went to Catholic grade school, and my parents were strict, but they didn't censor what I read because I was a good kid. I was always home, and it was a different time. Parents weren't censoring what you were reading, because where could you get anything that wasn't appropriate? What they didn't know is that I went to the library with my hippie sister-in-law, when I was ten, and I took out the book Buried Alive, a biography of Janis Joplin. I wrote a book report on it, and one of the nuns sent a note home from school. I was a straight A student, but they said, "Are you aware of what your daughter is reading?" My mom was old-fashioned, but she read my book report, and said, "She said that Janis Joplin was a good person who was misunderstood. I don't see what's so wrong with that." My parents were very old-fashioned, but they were very cool in their way. But I have all of my papers, all through high school, that say, "This is great, but you really need to write about some topic other than music."

What was your first exposure to the Band?

Oh god, now this is embarrassing. I'm going to lose, like, all my credibility. I'm sure I heard "Cripple Creek" and "Dixie" and "The Weight", because you just had to hear those songs. But my very first exposure to the Band, when I realized who they were, when I said, "Wow. Oh my god", when it CHANGED me, was October of 1976 when I was barely fourteen years old. In fact, it was October 28th, and I know that because I'm looking at my diary. I wrote about them in my diary that night. It was the night they were on Saturday Night Live, which was like three weeks before The Last Waltz. I believe Buck Henry was the host, and they sang "Dixie" and "Stage Fright" and "Life is a Carnival". And, you know, you're fourteen years old and you're all about hormones. What I always joke is if I could pinpoint my transition from childhood to puberty, it was during the Band's set on Saturday Night Live in '76. That was my first exposure to them, and at that time, Saturday Night Live was still a relatively new show. It was, like, the second season, I think. Kids my age, you're still excited that you're allowed to stay up that late at night. There could have been a nuclear war and you didn't move from your seat, because that's where you heard and saw all the great music. It wasn't just the groups that were popular, it was the groups and the musicians that were really, really cool, and who were really influential. I mean, the first time I saw Tom Waits was on Saturday Night Live. Rickie Lee Jones... Van Morrison... It was incredible! You would see all of these very influential, seminal musicians, and then there was these guys. I remember Buck Henry introduced them, and I believe he said something like, "There about to give their final concert at San Francisco's Winterland." I don't think it was called The Last Waltz, it was just that they were about to break up. I remember when they came on, I'd love to say it was the music that hit me, but they were just so GORGEOUS. I mean, Rick, my god, was like Romeo. And Robbie and Levon... They were just all so charismatic and beautiful. Just when that's starting to sink in, how great they look, then the music was just like, "Wow! They're such incredible musicians!" That was my first exposure to them, and it stayed with me, really stayed with me. Long before YouTube or anything like that, I remembered all the details of it.

What was your emotional response to the music?

I have to say honestly, at that time, I didn't have a big emotional response to the music. Except to "Dixie", I thought that it was almost majestic. The music was almost, it didn't sound like anything mainstream or anything on the radio. I just knew it was important music. I know that that probably sounds silly, but it just had that sound. It wasn't just music, but it was important music.

Did you have any expectations about the Band, from when you first saw them on SNL, leading up to your involvement with them? And would you ever have imagined that it would turn into what it did - with you still writing about them, particularly Rick, almost every day?

No, I didn't think this then. I didn't think in 1976 that I would be writing about, or involved with, the Band or anybody in the Band when I was forty-seven. When you're fourteen, you think that when you're forty-seven, you're in a rocking chair with little glasses. But I did think from the minute I met him in 1990, I knew that he was gonna be in my life until one of us died. I knew that instantly. I just didn't think that he was gonna die... I thought that would have been a much longer time. I didn't know how that would manifest. I just thought I was gonna work with him for years to come, which I did for a decade, which is a long time especially for someone like Rick or anybody in the Band! The only reason that ended was because he passed away.

Can you tell me about your first meeting with Rick, the first time you guys interacted?

Oh god... I met him at a Band concert. I was just a fan, and after the show, my friend and I walked around to see if we could spot them. Not looking for them, but to maybe see them or spot the tour bus. Levon saw us from inside the tour bus, and waved to us. We both looked at each other, and turned around, because he couldn't be talking to us. But he was, and he waved us over, and asked us how we liked the show. He said, "You girls sure brightened things up out there tonight." I don't know what he meant by that, but I guess because we were kinda young, and it was an older crowd, at that particular show anyway. I don't know how I had the balls, for lack of a better word, but I asked Levon, I said, "Um. Do you think Rick would say hi?" But then Rick came out, and it was just amazing to see him in person. He had this real sweet smile, and he kissed me on the cheek. I said, "Wow. It’s so great to meet you." He asked me my name, and he said, "Its great to meet you, Carol." For some reason, he took his backstage pass off and stuck it on my jacket. I have no idea why, because the show was over. We talked for a really long time, and then he invited us to the next show, and put us on the guest list. We just hit it off, and I'm sure you've read a lot people saying that when they met Rick, they felt like they already knew him. But, for me, this was very intense. I felt like I grew up with him, you know?
 
"Me, Rick & Eric, May 1992"

Yeah, that's what I was gonna ask, actually - Why Rick? Of all of them, why Rick?

Well, Rick was my favorite. He had always been my favorite. I loved Levon's voice and stuff, but Rick... Before I knew him, his voice, he just had this sweetness about him. Other people are sweet and appear to be nice, but his sweetness was really deep. It just came through in the songs. You also have to understand that at the time, there was nothing. There was no YouTube, or anything. There was a couple bootleg videos of the Band. It was really just The Last Waltz, and that movie, Man Outside. I didn't really collect bootlegs, I wasn't that kind of fan, where I listened to every single concert. But there was something in his voice. That song "Sonny Got Caught in the Moonlight" by Robbie Robertson, off his first album [Robbie Robertson]. Well, Rick's voice in that song... I would just listen to that part, and think, "Oh my god. This man must be so sweet! How can you that be sweet, and be as old as he is?" I never expected to meet one of my musical heroes, and you know, you just wanted to take care of him.

How did it foster into a working relationship?

Well, he invited me to the second show, and I'm sure you've read the post about when he fell asleep on me. That was the second time. He invited me to the show, the show got rained out, and the show was rescheduled. Somehow, we split and he said, "Do you want to get something to eat?" And we just ended up talking, and talking, and talking. Michelle, I'm not kidding... Never in my life had I been in a situation where I just ended up talking with someone all night, and I mean ALL night. We fell asleep! Head to head! When I woke up, it was like, "Kill me. Kill me now." We had talked for so long that I had lost track of where I was, and I was never really nervous with Rick, except for the first time, the first minute. Then it wore off, and I just felt like we were connected. But this was just crazy. I was really embarrassed, like, what am I going to do? He's sleeping on me! And I was sleeping on him!

That's so great, from watching him on Saturday Night Live to having him asleep on your shoulder.

That's what I mean. It was very surreal, very surreal. It was almost like this dichotomy, where I would totally not even register that this is Rick Danko. I just didn't, that was gone. That's what was weird. When I first met him, I noticed that scar. That's what I focused on, that scar. That was like, how I knew it was him, because I know that scar. But then that scar took on all this meaning, like vulnerability, and not get all otherworldly, but it was symbolic. It was like the scarlet letter. It was so deep, and blatant, and right in front of me. For the first couple minutes, it was, "Wow. This is Rick Danko." But as soon as he talked to me, it was like, "Oh my god." I really felt like I knew him. I didn't care how I looked. I was wearing a jean jacket, I don't know if I was wearing any make-up, I had been in the sun all day. Usually, if you're meeting, like Bob Dylan - I have met Bob Dylan, and when I met Bob Dylan, I was in an after-five dress. I was worrying, "Do I look good? Is he gonna think I look okay?" As if he's gonna care what you look like, you know? With Rick, I didn't feel like that. It felt instantly familiar.

How did it involve into such an important friendship - from one meeting to a lifelong experience for you?

Okay, after the night we fell asleep on each other, I just assumed I would never see him again. Or, if I did I would just go see the Band in concert, and that would be the end of it. But we kept coming back in touch. I had done some writing about the Band, and I did a profile on him for this silly rock magazine. I was so unbelievably shy, that I would have died before I would give it to him, so a friend sent it to him. Then he invited me to another show, and it evolved from there. Then he called me. He just called me out of the blue. Rick calling me would have been, like, no chance. It would have been like John Lennon calling somebody. I don't even know how he got my phone number! I never even asked. When I picked up the phone, I just heard [imitates deep, audible breath]. A breath like that. I just almost passed out. I knew it was him, because he had asthma. There's this scene in The Last Waltz where he's walking down the hall with Scorsese, and you can hear him breathing. You don't even have to listen closely, because it’s so loud. He had asthma and he had really heavy breathing. As outlandish as it was, I knew that was him on the phone. He was like [hilariously imitates Danko's voice], "Hey Carol, its Rick Danko. Got a minute?" He just asked me if I would be interested in doing some work with him, and from there, it didn't just happen. There were a lot of bumps in the road, but he knew that he could trust me. He just knew it, and it took a lot, I think. Well, it takes a lot for anybody, but any musician, they just get screwed a lot. I think he just intuitively knew, and it just grew from there. Plus, we just really got along. It was like a comedy routine, because I was always doing something to embarrass myself, inherently. Then he would make a joke out of it, or vice versa.

How well acquainted were you or are you with the other members of the Band?

Well, I knew Levon. He was always very sweet to me, but I didn't hang out with the guys. It just never felt right to me. I don't think Rick ever really thought of me as a hanger outer type of person. I was always working when I was with them, and when I was up in Woodstock, I was always with him. So I would see Levon around, and he was always very kind to me. He offered to teach me to roll a joint, kindly offered, and Rick said, "Oh man, come on man, you know she don't smoke." Garth was a sweet man. I've talked to Garth over the years, he knows me, and he has said some really sweet things about my work over the years. He trusts me, which is very important to me. But I don't have that kind of relationship with them, where I go and hang out with them. It just never was, even when I was working day-to-day with Rick. I've met Robbie a couple of times.

Right, didn't you describe him as condescending?

You know, he was condescending to me, I have to say. If it wasn't that it was happening to me, I kind of could've seen where he was coming from. If I could've bottled the look on his face, if I could just step back from it, it’s actually pretty funny. You know, here's this woman, much younger. Rick was twenty years older than me. You see a woman and this older man, and you're being introduced as his publicist. Its kinda like, "Yeah right." When I wrote that piece, I guess I felt that way then. But when I look back on it, it really is kinda funny. If it wasn't me, I would have totally understood, but it was condescending. But people are complicated, everybody is complicated. Everybody comes with history and their own set of notions that are based on their experiences. So who am I to judge? I don't know what Robbie's experiences were. All this feud stuff, I just wish it would go away.

The strange thing is, is that it still remains.

It still remains, and the thing is, nobody knows except those five. Rick did not badmouth people, he kept the doors open. I think that why he got along with everybody. There were people, I'm sure. If somebody screwed him over, it was duly noted, and he'd never trust them again. But he never badmouthed Robbie. He just didn't.

And the other time you met Robbie?

I met Robbie once at Bearsville, and another time when I was already working with Rick, but I didn't tell Robbie I was working with Rick. He was at a radio station in Philly, and I just wanted to see him. I wasn't gonna go say, "Ohhh man, I'm Rick's publicist. I've been hanging out with Rick!" I was always shy about that stuff. I met him and I said hi, and he signed a picture for me. I didn't tell him anything about me, and he wrote, "Dear Carol, lovely to meet you." That night, I called Rick and told him that I met Robbie. He was like, "Euuugh." I was kind of excited about it! I was a fan! I was like, "Guess who I met?" He was like, "Who?!" And I said, "Robbie!" And he was like, "Euuuugh." But that was it. I didn't tell him anything, I was kind of incognito. Not that he would know anyway, because he wasn't in touch with Rick on a daily basis then.

Your blog notes that its part of a promise you made to Rick. Can you elaborate on that, and express what you're trying to accomplish with it?

I just promised Rick that I always be there for him, basically. I would always be there for him and I would always be his friend, just like in the song "Come Runnin'". I would basically do whatever I could to help him, in any way that I could, as long as I was here. I don't know if that makes sense, but that's basically what it is. And also, to tell his story. We talked about me telling his story quite a few times, and he would say, "You're gonna tell my story one day." At first, I was like, "Oh yeah right..." He always said that he loved my writing because it was honest and it felt real. Of course, you think the person is just saying it to flatter you, and maybe he was. I don't think so, because he would tell me if he didn't like something. Rick wasn't vain at all, but there were a couple pictures we thought about using. He'd say, "Nah nah nah..." He wouldn't say, "Don't use it!" Just, "Nah." He knew that as long as I was here, I would look after him, is the only way I can really say it.

And you mentioned that you were doing a book?

I've been working on a biography - the book that Rick and I had talked about. It’s been in progress for a very long time. It’s been very emotional. Sometimes it’s harder when its someone you knew and cared about. If it was on a complete stranger, like Van Morrison, I would have had it done two years ago. But this is not a linear path... Even though I knew him for a relatively long time, it was just one portion of his life. He had had a whole life before that. I've been talking to lots of people. I was talking a lot to his brother Junior, and Junior passed away a couple of months ago. It was very sad, but thankfully, I got talk to him quite a bit. So it’s a work in progress, but it’s a lot of work.

What stands as your proudest achievement in writing about music, and what more would you like to achieve?

I don't know if I have one particular thing that I'm proudest of, because I consider it all part of one. It’s just part of who I am. I just like to be able to relate music to life, and I like being able to connect with other people. I like when someone says, "I know just what you mean." Or, "Thanks, I felt that too." Or whatever! Just when it touches a nerve. I'm just glad that I'm able to do what I love to do, and to write. When it’s part of who you are, you just do it. Sometimes when I write about things that are really personal, I'll take a deep breath and say, "Just do it. It’s the truth, just do it." You can't have a spin on the truth, it just is. I just use that as my mantra, that the truth will make you free. Be honest, but be sensitive - I try to do both. But whatever it is, it’s gotta be real. I just don't want fluff, that's my greatest fear.

Branching off into more general music talk, what is the last album you listened to in its entirety?

Cryin' Heart Blues [a collection of Danko studio sessions and live recordings], which I was listening to today.

What are your top five artists and top five albums of all time?

Dylan, Rick and the Band, the Beatles, Van Morrison, and right now, Phil Ochs. I don't know if he's etched in stone in my top five. Dylan and the Band as one and two are, like, a part of my soul. The Beatles, I really feel like I've come to a stonewall with their music. It doesn't move me anymore, which is very sad. But I still know what the Beatles have always meant to me. Van Morrison, as an artist, is on another plain totally. Dylan, Blood on the Tracks. That was my life-changing album. Music from Big Pink, The Brown Album, Astral Weeks, and The White Album.

You mentioned that you met Dylan, did you meet him through the Band?

I didn't meet him through the Band. That's actually kind of funny... I met him the night that he got the Lifetime Achievement Grammy. This was also very surreal. Columbia Records gave this decadent party at the Rainbow Room in New York, and it was invitation only. It was just for Columbia artists. At that time, I was working with Rick, but I still had a "day job". My day job was working for a music management company in Philly, and one of our clients was Grover Washington Jr, who was a jazz musician on Columbia. He was on tour, so he couldn't go to the party, so he gave me his invitation. My boss, also couldn't go, so he gave me the other invitation. My best friend and I went, and we finagled our way into meeting Dylan. We went and I said, "I don't care who else here, I couldn't care less." We were in the elevator with Mariah Carey, Michael Bolton, Diana Ross was there... It was funny that the Band, they were all on the guest list, but none of them showed up. It was 1992, and they were legimately somewhere else. They didn't just skip out on it, although they probably would have anyway. So that's how I met Dylan, and he actually smiled at me. It was very uncharacteristic, and you know, Dylan likes to play games with people. I had an opportunity to meet him again, and I chose not to, because I did not want to be in that situation. That's when I went to Saratoga with Allen Ginsberg, when I was staying at Rick's place in Woodstock.

Well, that sounds like a story...

It’s a crazy story. Allen Ginsberg did shiatsu on me in the car, on the way to Saratoga. It was crazy, CRAZY. Rick was home, and like, "Okay... Call me if you need me. I'll leave the porch light on." He totally could not believe that I paid for Dylan tickets. He was like, "You should have talked to me!"

Were they all in touch?

They were in touch, from time to time. It was the way Rick was with everyone, "I'll see you on the road." It wasn't like they hung out, but they always had a friendly relationship. It was like, they saw each other when their paths crossed. Their paths crossed over the years. That night when Dylan played Saratoga, I was staying up there, and Rick had some shows. It just a crazy, surreal, crazy, crazy situation.

WAIT, so you went to a Dylan concert with Allen Ginsberg? Is that what I'm grasping?!

Yeah! You're totally not following my story!

Oh my goodness! I thought you DIDN'T meet Dylan because you went to Saratoga with Allen Ginsberg! I can see where the word "surreal" comes in!

I was staying up in Woodstock, and a dear friend of mine happened to be a publisher, who was friends with Allen Ginsberg. He helped Rick out and he helped me out a lot. He was also, like, Rick's unofficial road manager. As a thank you, if Rick was away when I was in Woodstock, this friend would allow me to stay in his house. As a thank you to him, for helping me out, and for helping Rick out... This friend was a major Dylan fan, and I bought tickets for Dylan. So I was in Woodstock, and we were gonna see Dylan. When I was up there, Allen Ginsberg decided to show up at my friend's house. We were gonna go to the concert, my friend and I, but Ginsberg showed up. He said, "Oh, I don't think you're gonna be needing those." He literally got on the phone and got second row seats and backstage passes, so my tickets were not necessary. It was crazy. So we went to the concert with Ginsberg, in my Honda Accord. That's the normal part of it. I'm gonna have to tell you the crazy part of it some other time! [Carol touches upon the story in this two-part piece of hers.]

At the end of the day, why do you think the Band still matters?

The Band were not derivative. The Band was soul music, in that it came from the soul, and spoke to the soul. They culled from music of the country. They culled from American music, but they did not take it and water it down. They took it and made it richer, and they made it their own. It was real and timeless. That's why I think they still matter, and people are really starting to appreciate them now. With a lot of great artists, it takes time. With some great painters, it took centuries. Thank god, Rick got to see some of it, and Richard, a little. But thank god, Levon, Robbie, and Garth are really getting to see the appreciation. Its genre spanning and generation spanning.