In Memoriam: Garth Hudson

Rock and roll maestro and multi-instrumentalist Garth Hudson, late of The Band, passed away peacefully in his sleep on January 21, at 87 years old.

Hudson was the quiet contemplative center of the group and a wealth of musical perspicacity. An endless reference of music history both classical and modern, Hudson passed his knowledge on selflessly to his friends, family and bandmates.

Hudson was serious, private, and looked the part of a musical mountain man. He was the dependable cog to which The Band or any of his musical compatriots revolved.

While he was reserved, those who listen closely to his song will witness the delicate thread of humor can be found stitched through anything he touched. While he didn’t sing (publicly) or compose songs, his diverse contributions to The Band and other musicians were essential and beyond description. He exhibited an arranger’s attentiveness and was the trusted translator to his bandmates wants.

He gave eclectic life to compositions by Bob Dylan, Robbie Robertson and Richard Manuel, draping the bones of their songs in resplendent and regal clothing. He made the aural, tangible through his practiced and magical focus.

Hudson could play any number of instruments prolifically including piano, organ, saxophone and accordion. He could always be counted on to wax poetic about his deep love for the oft maligned accordion that was an essential ingredient in The Band’s musical montage.

Whether playing a snatch of melody from a forgotten hymnal, a rare jazz piece, or the groove of a boogie-woogie, Hudson was adept at having the perfect solution to any songs problem. His melodic additions and sonic experiments were often the defining moments in any recordings he was involved in. His squishy clavinet through a wah-wah in “Up on Cripple Creek,” the emotive soar of his soprano saxophone in “It Makes No Difference,” or his skittering honky-tonk piano in “Rag Mama Rag.”

Known best of all for his organ playing, Hudson’s abilities were beyond the realms of this world. He played a Lowrey organ instead of a Hammond because the former allowed for a greater range of tones and textures. His keyboard aesthetic ranged from the reverent to the blues, the Mystery Theatre to cocktail jazz, and from the bars to the stars. Sat behind his keyboard collective Hudson heated up the Band’s “Chest Fever,” vibed with Ronnie Hawkins “Mojo Man,” and walked the spooky gait of Dylan’s “Thin Man.”

In the end Hudson was a musical healer, and he used his gift to provide solace and joy to whomever listened. It didn’t matter if he was soothing 600,000 soaked rock fans at Watkins Glen or playing to 15 locals at a late-night café in Woodstock, his investment and love of music was as steady and dependable as he was. Hudson was the earth element in a collection of five disparate and talented individuals, but always uniquely singular. The sounds emitted from his heart and instruments are those which we will never hear the likes of again.

Following the performance of an accordion piece for an intimate gathering in Woodstock, Garth Hudson paused to ask the audience, “What do you call an accordion dropped down a mine shaft?” … “A Flat Minor”

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