robbie robertson, “the moon struck one,”
from: Cahoots, 1971
“Julie and little John Tyler lived in the house next door
We would be the great triangle and to this we swore
Julie was my sweetheart, little John was my cohort
And all the wild horses in the world couldn’t keep us apart
Once we went for a swim in the noonday sun
And promised to return before the moon struck one
Julie came running through the pasture, she was screaming at the sky
She fell down to her knees and the tears did fly
Little John was stung by a snake over by the lake
And it looked like he’s really, really hurt, he was lying in the dirt
Who, we went it as fast as we could run
But we lost little John as the moon struck one
I was vacant, Julie was a bird with a broken wing
We were always afraid of what tomorrow might bring
We’ll drive down to Durango—up and leave this place
And maybe forget the triangle with a change of pace
The car broke down when we had just begun
And we walked back to the house while the moon struck one”
The music of the Band has been a constant companion since I turned 20. No other musical aggregation has struck me with such an ongoing fascination. I returned to their first four records often, assisted in learning about the country, the future, love, war, humility and downright fun. Though they were a collaborative in the making of their sound, Mr. Robertson did much of the lyrical work. He profoundly chronicled many scarred stories and deep truths from American history. Often, fabulous pieces of music are buried on a record. Robbies’ “The Moon Struck One” is such an example. It has a funerial tone and dimming poignance transported by Garth Hudson‘s haunting, otherworldly organ. The late Richard Manuel handles the vocals with some of his most emotive work. We can send it out to spirit Mr. Robertson aloft.
