I’ve long thought this song by The Band was a classic. I never really understood the politicization and negativity towards it. I will say, as born southerner, there’s something a bit weird about four dudes from Ontario lamenting the hard times a poor southerner would soon experience at the end of the American Civil War. At least the fifth member of The Band, Arkansan Levon Helms, could add a touch of wailing authenticity.
But the glaringly foolish issue with that viewpoint is that Helms didn’t write the song! It was Toronto-native Robbie Robertson and he kind of nailed it. His experiences in his late teens with Ronnie Hawk and The Hawks plus his years with Bob Dylan lended him the proper chops to be a forefront voice in what became the American folk music of the 1960’s.
It reminds me of alot of the commentary around men’s professional golf at the moment. People that shouldn’t have a deep base of cultural knowledge are nailing the argument. The years of immersive golf fandom are giving people a voice.
I feel that this weekend has been somewhat of a watershed moment. The tournament in Phoenix is off the rails in more ways than one. The tournament in Las Vegas is also, for entirely different reasons, telling a story it perhaps doesn’t want to tell.
It seems to me that men’s professional golf is in hard times and non-traditional voices are trying hard to tell the story of what we are all very clearly seeing and experiencing. I hope someone is listening.