After moving from Woodstock to Santa Barbara to Nashville, then to Atlanta and back to Woodstock again, few things in Jim Weider’s life were stable but for his beloved ’52 Fender Telecaster. He was something of a rover – a nomad, if you will. Even though he could play with the best, Weider could never make a gig stick.
But that all changed when his old pals from The Band – whom Weider had befriended in Woodstock, New York, back in the 60s – came calling in 1985 with an invitation. Not just any old invitation but one to join a rebooted version of The Band as Robbie Robertson’s replacement.
If that sounds unenviable, know that Weider disagrees. “It was exciting because I grew up with that music,” he tells Guitarist. “And I was in pretty tough shape after playing four sets a night for months on end for years in clubs. My playing was in good shape, I felt comfortable, and they said, ‘Just do it.’ But it was a big step for me going from bars to big stages like that.”
Weider’s toughness was immediately put to the test, as piano player Richard Manuel died by suicide after a show in Florida. Making matters worse, despite Weider’s rosy outlook, the fact is that The Band – who went out grandly with 1978’s The Last Waltz – faced an uphill battle without Robertson as they toiled away in clubs and small theatres.
Regardless, Weider stuck it out and by 1993 his era of The Band had signed with Pyramid Records, which proved to be another bruising decision as their financial and in-house difficulties led to 1993’s Jericho – The Band’s first record since ’78 – going all but unnoticed. “I thought that record came out great,” Weider says. “It could have done better if we had the powers that be back it more.”
Surprisingly, as the 90s rolled on, things got better for The Band. They kept on making albums and were even on hand for memorable moments alongside Roger Waters and the Grateful Dead, for whom they opened during their final shows at Soldier Field in ’95. And the good times probably would have kept rolling had bassist Rick Danko not passed away in December 1999, ending The Band once and for all.
In the 24 years since The Band called it a day, Weider has kept at it, releasing solo records and celebrating the music of The Band with The Weight Band, who dropped its last record, Shines Like Gold, in 2022. Since then, he’s laid low, though he still plays his beloved ’52 Tele daily.
Thinking about what the guitar that’s come to define his career has meant to him, Weider pauses, turns around, grabs the curio and smiles, explaining: “I don’t know what it is… the shape and the feel of the neck, the clarity of the pickups, all of it… You really have to play a Telecaster. It doesn’t come easy.
“It kind of makes you your own man playing it,” he continues. “You gotta figure it out. Somebody will hear if you make a mistake or go out of pitch. I’ve always liked that, which is probably why I’ve played them my entire life.”
Weider’s Tele means the world to him. As does the now 72-year-old six-stringer’s legacy with The Band. He knows that he didn’t start it, and he never endeavoured to be Robbie Robertson, but he’s damn proud of finishing it.
“It means a lot to me to carry The Band’s music on,” he says. “Joining the band, replacing Robbie Robertson, carrying on the roots of the music and being able to write songs, that meant a lot because that’s what the Woodstock sound was to me.
“The Band was combining that sound, that roots-rock, with songs about the common man and his trials and tribulations. And then there were songs about the mountains and where we lived. To me, that combination of folk music, blues, rock ’n’ roll and rockabilly – that’s what I grew up on. Those songs are about places around here. I’m proud to have helped keep that tradition going.”
Going back to the start, what inspired you to pick up the guitar?
“Oh, man. Well, primarily, it was Scotty Moore on the Elvis Presley records. When I heard all those guitar riffs, like Hound Dog, and those great songs when I was a kid, that was it. That was some of the first lead stuff I heard, and then I got into The Ventures and early 60s instrumental stuff. After that came the British Invasion – The Yardbirds, Beatles and Stones.
“[Growing up around Woodstock, New York], what influenced me and everyone else around town was the phenomenal jazz-rock scene. I didn’t even know if there was a jazz-rock genre, but I heard that in the 60s and it really influenced us all to stretch out.”
And it was around that time that you first met Robbie Robertson, right?
“There were a lot of amazing guitar players back then, and yeah, Robbie was in The Band. He didn’t play around town much, but The Band was a big influence on me, of course. All of his guitar riffs that he did were great and created a really wild sound. All those kinds of guys were influences on my sound.”
At some point, you acquired a Telecaster, which would stick with you for your entire career.
“Once I heard Roy Buchanan and saw that he was playing a Tele, that was it. I got my first one at Mannys Music in New York, and it was my first really good guitar. I got it for, I think, $100. Or maybe it was $135, and it was without the case.”
I was broke and working in a car wash in Santa Barbara and saw an ad in the paper for a ’52 Telecaster. I went to the guy’s place – which turned out to be Norm from Norman’s Rare Guitars
But when did you get the ’52 Telecaster that would become your most trusted guitar?
“I had been playing the Telecaster since the 60s and wanted a ’52. I went across the country to do my California road trip in my Volkswagen, and along the way I was looking for a Tele. I found one from the late-50s in Oklahoma, but it wasn’t quite right, so I sold it to Jim Messina. I think I paid $100 or $150.”
How did you finally find the ’52 Tele?
“I was broke and working in a car wash in Santa Barbara and saw an ad in the paper for a ’52 Telecaster. I went to the guy’s place – which turned out to be Norm from Norman’s Rare Guitars. He had a ’52 Tele and an old Bassman amp. He wanted $350. I said, ‘I’ve got $345,’ and Norm said, ‘All right.’ I took it and said, ‘Well, I’m gonna play this guitar for the rest of my life.’ And thank God, I’ve been playing it ever since. It’s my main instrument.”
Not long after, you left California, went home to Woodstock and then headed to Nashville. Did the plan to get into session work?
“I had been working and recording a bit in Woodstock, and Ben Keith, a great pedal steel player, said, ‘I’m gonna go to Nashville. I’ve got a car, let’s go.’ I said, ‘I don’t know…’ but I was in my early 20s, and long story short, I got in the car and we went.
“I got a gig playing with Johnny Paycheck for a short period and it was crazy. I worked with some great singer-songwriters there, then moved back to LA for a bit before heading down to Atlanta. I moved around a lot back then. But that all changed after I got into The Band.”
Can you recount how you joined The Band?
“It happened around 1985 when Garth [Hudson] moved back to Woodstock. Richard Manuel moved back, too. So Levon Helm called me up. I went down there and played a show with them at a local spot they always played at, and before I knew it, we were out on the road. At that point, they said, ‘We want to go out as a five-piece.’ That was the start of my playing with them for 15 years.”
Was it daunting filling Robbie Robertson’s shoes – especially after they’d gone out in such grand fashion with The Last Waltz?
“Well, my first real gig with them on the road was in front of about 25,000 people and we had no real rehearsal… We just flew out to Dallas and opened for Crosby, Stills & Nash, which turned into a whole three‑month tour.”
Does that mean there was no directive from the band to play like Robbie?
“Those guys never told me what to do. They just left me alone to play the rhythm, and I kept it thick and strong and left the backbeat open. I felt like I should copy Robbie’s licks because he did a lot of the opening licks and primarily wrote a lot of the songs. Those were kind of trademark licks, so I had to have those intros and riffs down to play the tunes. But as far as soloing, they left it wide open for me.”
You mentioned that you started on big stages, but later in the ’80s you guys were playing a lot of smaller shows. Was that because people struggled to accept that version of The Band?
“People loved it. The reception was strong. The band was strong and we did get to play a lot of big shows, too. And then, when we’d play bars, or wherever we played, like small theatres, people were wrapped around the building to come see us. It seemed like people were excited.”
When we’d play bars, or wherever we played, like small theatres, people were wrapped around the building to come see us
After one of those smaller gigs in Winter Park, Florida, in 1986, Richard Manuel died by suicide. That must have been extremely difficult.
“It wasn’t easy. It was… it was very… that was very tough. And if it was tough for me, it was 10 times tougher for the rest of the guys because they had spent so much time together. And then, after we lost Richard, we lost Stan Szelest, so it was a bunch of up and down stuff, but we kept going and eventually made records.”
But not until 1993’s Jericho, which remains a very underrated record. What gear did you use?
“It was. I had my usual Telecaster, which I played a lot back then in the 90s. And I had my [Fender] Deluxe Reverb, which was kind of hopped and tweaked up. I had a Vintage 30 in that, and pretty much I cranked it, and that was my main sound.”
As good as it was, Jericho didn’t do much commercially.
“You know what I think? There were a lot of political problems. We were on this label called Pyramid, and there were political problems as far as money and a lot of other stuff. But I thought the record was really good; I was really excited that my song, Remedy, was on there. That was a big deal for me. To get those guys to do a tune of mine meant a lot.”
Of note, in the 90s your version of The Band was on hand for the Grateful Dead’s final shows in 1995.
“That was wild. I think we did the last couple of shows with them at Soldier Field in ’95. It was great. I got to see Jerry [Garcia], who I had first seen when they first came out. I had been a fan in the 60s, but I hadn’t seen Jerry in a long time. I watched how they ebbed and flowed with all their music from one song to the next, and that flow went through to the audience. Man, it was a trip.”
What did your live rig consist of during those shows with the ’Dead?
“I had the Deluxe and this amp – a [black-panel] Fender Bass[man] that was kind of made into a Dumble. I got an overdrive channel [installed] and it was tweaked with vintage resistors and capacitors, so it had been tweaked a lot. That was what I was mainly using. I had a homemade cabinet and vintage speakers, which were old Jensens, and I got such a good overdrive sound.”
In recent years, you’ve done a great job keeping the music and vibe of The Band alive with The Weight Band.
“Yeah, we’ve done several albums – and I’ve made some solo albums [including 2009’s Pulse]. I really should come up with something new. I’d like to do something more atmospheric, you know, something totally left-brained. I’m thinking about it…”
