When you were playing in that time period as the Hawks, after Ronnie Hawkins, what kind of music were you playing?

We were trying to, uh, become more accomplished musicians. And we wanted to be if we could a cut above the bar band level. And uh, we were not interested in playing, uh, yeah, hit parade songs or something. We wanted to, first of all we didn't care too much for what we heard on the radio. Of course there was always a good song here, a good song there, but the majority of it was not challenging. What it meant to us was when we heard something was were he hearing something that challenged us musically. And it could be not, I don't mean in a necessarily complicated or sophisticated way, it could be just a feel, that you say, jeez, I've never heard anything like that, looking for freshness, looking for something that was just not the obvious. And it was not the best thing to do in those days. Your job was to play for people, to play music that they wanted to hear, and what most people wanted to hear was what they were familiar with. They didn't want a music lesson, you know, on an obscure songs that no, nobody ever heard. But we needed to do this for ourselves, to educate ourselves. And so it was a combination of all kinds of stuff meshed together. And when we started mixing all of these things, we started to discover ourselves, and we started to find out what we were really good at. And it was like our schooling, our musical schooling, and we just, we did it on the road instead of in Berklee. And then when it came time for us to make records, all of a sudden the whole thing made sense. When I started writing these songs, all of this stuff came to the surface then, and all this musicality that we'd picked up along, and pieces along the sides of all these back roads, started to fit into this music and when we made records, people said, woo, where did this come from? And for us it wasn't unusual at all. When we made "Music From Big Pink" although it wasn't a record like what we had, the music that we had played on our own, with Bob Dylan, or with Ronnie Hawkins, or anything, it wasn't like any of that, but it was a real culmination of like I said bits and pieces of what we had picked up along the way and what we had taught ourselves. And it was very difficult for us to even recognize it. When you make a record, your own record, and you don't even recognize it yourself, it's hard to think if anybody else is going to recognize. So when "Music From Big Pink" came out and people did accept it, you know, and in some cases embraced it, it was a tremendous relief, but it was, it was all of that stuff paying off.

Did you have any reaction when the Beatles did America, or was that just happening in a different world?

When the Beatles showed up?

Yeah, in America.

It didn't mean nothing to us when the Beatles showed up. When the Beatles became experimental and started breaking the rules it meant a lot to us. We could relate a lot to that. But in the beginning, it was just, it was just more of the same to us with longer hair.

And British accents.

Yeah.

So, we want to talk about the intersection of the Hawks and Bob Dylan. Were you aware of Dylan before you met, before you got the phone call that he was interested in working with you guys? Had you heard his music?

We didn't have much of a background in folk music. Only in like some obscure mountain music we were interested in, the Carter Family or things like that. But folk music was, uh, from a different side of the tracks, and then, that was happening in coffee houses and we were in bars. We were on a much more dangerous side of town than they were. And so when we did get the call from Bob Dylan, I felt embarrassingly unaware of not just what he did, but any of the people that, you know, because, there was kind of a folk thing happening, we knew about that, but it wasn't on our agenda really. So when I, when I went to meet with Bob, uh, I was trying my best not to let on that I, how unknowledgeable in all of this. And then pretty soon I realized, you know, when I talked about influences like he talked about influence, that uh, it didn't matter to him that much at all. He really didn't care if, uh, if we knew about what he had done in the past because he was thinking about something new anyway. And, and he would tell me about all kinds of people, the folksingers and writers that did stuff, and I remember in some cases he played me some music and I didn't care for it very much. But when he sang those songs or did those songs, I liked it. But by those other people it didn't do nothing for me. And I didn't know yet, why it was when he did it, it seemed to work. He also had a way of singing other people's songs and making it sound like he wrote it, early on. Before I became a little bit more aware of different people's songs in the folk music area. But uh, I liked the idea that he had no idea what he had in mind. Only that he wanted to just mix it up and try some stuff. And uh, when I talked to him about the, the, the violence in music, and the dynamics in music, and the, and exploding and becoming like really quiet, uh, I could see that it pushed a button in him, that was something he was very interested in. It's the dynamics actually that I was talking to him about that's become popular again lately. Nirvana, um, does this a lot in their songs. They get very loud, then they get soft, they build, and they take on different moods and textures, so it's funny, I don't know when, this was probably 1965 or '66 that we were talking about that same kind of talk. Um, and there wasn't a lot that came before us, back then that we had this example of. You know, there wasn't people playing music that did that, you didn't hear it. They just kind of kicked it into gear, whatever the tune was, and it just went brrrrrrrrrrrrp to the end, and it was like that. But the idea of doing something that had these builds, these gushes of emotion that go up and down. And I thought it might be a clue to making all of these lyrics work because I thought this is going to be going on for a while. These songs are ten minutes long. So it seemed at the time. I'd never heard anybody with such long songs and so much to say before. So, how can we, how can we go from here to here without it just becoming this kind of monotone, humdrum, just mmmmmmm, you know. So we started experimenting with this, and then we did this tour and discovered it. It was a strange discovery because while we thought we were getting somewhere, we thought we were like this thing with dynamics, had this intro that kind of builds, builds, builds, and then when the singing comes in the music will drop down like this, and the singing comes on, the song's going on, we get to this section and it builds there, and it comes down, and it goes to this and then explodes up to the instrumental, and then it comes way down, all of this stuff, and we were trying to figure out this little system. And when we were doing it, people were throwing things at us and booing. And so it doesn't do much for your confidence, you know, when you're thinking, I think we're on to something, I think we've got, I think this music is starting to work. Because we didn't know what to compare it to. And uh, but uh, it's quite shattering on the confidence, you know, when people are throwing banana peels at you and booing, an saying get out, get out! You know, like, what me?

Do you think it was confrontational by design, that when the music exploded, do you think that there was, Dylan was after confrontation with his audience?

Well, I think he was willing to challenge the rules for sure. I think that he probably discovered that if everybody's going north and I go south, you know, I'm more apt to do something interesting.

Can you talk about the Forest Hills concert for example? What was that experience like?

The first job that we played with Bob Dylan was at Forest Hills, the tennis court thing in New York. And um, this was a rude awakening because we'd heard a little bit about that his people, the people that liked his music and everything, the folk scene and everything, they weren't really keen. He had tried something I think at the Newport Folk Festival, and they already got a reading on it that people weren't really keen on the idea of mixing electric music with folk music. But I had no idea that it was this extreme. I mean people went berserk. They were so upset and so angry and screaming and with red faces and charging the stage, and wouldn't listen, wouldn't listen. It was like -- well, we weren't very good then either. I mean we were just kind of figuring out how to do this thing. Um, maybe it was just as well they didn't listen, but it was like, you know, when someone, when you're talking, you're trying to explain something to somebody or you're trying to show them how you feel about something, and they're just kind of plugging their ears and going ahhhhh -- you know, they just don't want to buy into it in principle? It was like that. It was like playing for people where everybody had that attitude. And I thought the whole thing was pretty silly, this whole thing that was going on, but it was done with such attitude that, you know, you had to take it seriously. But I thought, oh God, this is goofy that people are like on this trip. And I don't know, he did pretty well. Most people would've said, well, I guess they're not going to accept it, you know, hand me Martin back again, this isn't working. Uh, but he didn't give up. And we went all over the world. We played all over Europe and Australia, and they booed us everywhere we went. And you know what, after we would play at night, there was somebody who taped the shows, and uh, we would sometimes listen to these tapes and they didn't sound that bad. Because from the reaction, you had in your mind, this must be horrible. And we would go and we'd listen to these tapes and think, this is actually pretty interesting. I don't know, you know, what the big problem is. So, eventually people turned around on it. But it took a while. And it's so funny in something like that. It went away, when it went away, it was like nobody even remembered that it was ever a problem. So it was pretty commendable for him just keeping his sights on what he was trying to accomplish and not caving in from the banana peels and the eggs.

We've read about you playing Curtis Mayfield songs and Percy Sledge songs for Dylan or something like that? To talk to him about songwriting. What was that about?

Well, this is what I was telling you about. You know, when, a lot of times when musicians get together from different sides of the tracks, they play their influences. And um, and I was going through a thing right now with the other guys in the band where we were experimenting with harmonies, and Curtis Mayfield and the Impressions did some really harmonies. And I also liked his guitar playing too. Because everybody, I could seem this thing coming that everybody was going to be playing a certain, aiming in the same direction pretty soon and I was starting to look for other attitudes besides -- I'd been playing from, when I joined Ronnie Hawkins, I was playing screaming blues guitar when I was 16 years old, up until this point, and when we were with Bob Dylan I was playing screaming blues guitar, and I'm now seeing on the horizon that there's going to be a lot of this coming, and it just made me want to look in other directions. And I was looking for real melodic subtleties. And Curtis Mayfield did just some beautiful things. So…

Yeah, when people get together that come from different musical backgrounds, a lot of times there's is a good ... it's very enjoyable to say somebody, let me turn you on to some things, and the other person does the same thing. And they play you stuff that maybe you weren't that familiar with and likewise. So we were doing some of that. And I was, I was trying to, like, like anybody does, that person, you want to bring them more over to where you're coming from, and they want to do the same to you. And I thought there was just more to be had in what we were doing in some soulful sel…, subtleties. And uh, it's very difficult to des-, describe these things without actually getting stuff and playing it. It was like I couldn't have explained to Bob or anybody else, or him to me what we were talking about without playing it. You can't describe it in words very well, I can soulful sel…, subtleties. What does that mean, you know, really, unless you say, you know something like this. And I remember playing this song "I've Been Trying" by Curtis Mayfield and the Impressions. And uh, the look on his face when he was listening to this. And he thought we've got to get some of this thing, what you're talking about. And we're not talking about copying somebody. We're talking about a mood or a feeling that could be incorporated into what we're doing too. Because the initial thing with some, with him was the excitement of the power, of having this band, this loud band all of a sudden, after all these years of just playing with a guitar and harmonica I guess. At first, the new toy part of it. It's like, well, I know, it's like a fast car, the first thing you want to do is you just want to drive it fast all the time. And later on you want to cruise, you know? We'd been playing together already a long time, so always, every time we started playing, putting the pedal to the metal was, you know, was not necessarily always the most exciting thing to do with it or the best use of it. So that's what we were, we were just kind of trading influences and trading notes and that. And uh, and, and it came out in what we were doing, the things that we were talking about, and the way we were playing, and stuff that we went on to do in the Basement Tapes and things like that. It was, you know, what he was teaching us and we were teaching him and, you know, it all kind of gets thrown into the soup.

Do you think that opened the door in rock 'n' roll when you were touring with Dylan, do you feel like it was -- we read something that said essentially it challenged the audience to listen, and to redefine the rock concert experience.

The rock concert experience for people was really pretty stupid, you know, at the time. People would go to concerts not with the idea of listening at all. I mean the Beatles tried to do some tours and found it to be completely pointless and became a non-touring band after that, and with very good reason. And when we were playing with Bob it wasn't the same thing at all, it wasn't about girls screaming, it was about girls booing. Men booing. But it was like people felt the need to just make a noise of some kind while these things were going on. And eventually it might have been like, well, if you would just listen to this thing, you might get something out of it. I don't know about it opening any doors or anything. It's hard to tell when you were inside the door. You know what I mean, it's hard to tell from that point of view, and it feels pretentious to say, oh, before -- you know I mean? I just, I don't know. I think the times, I think everything has something to do with it, it all makes a contribution. And uh, but it was not the same old pop-rock routine. This was more thinking people's music for sure. This wasn't hum along with Bob. So, um, that was evident. And later on when people did get next to the idea and accept it, it was really kind of extraordinary to see them reacting to a music that I'd only seen maybe in, in jazz, where somebody would do a particular thing and the people would react to that. They'd play an amazing thing and people would, you know, acknowledge it.