Today
marks the 43rd anniversary of The Last Waltz concert at Winterland in San Francisco.
The thing about loving something old is that it’s naturally encased in a kind of cleansing amber that forgives … everything.
Inside that, apparent shortcomings becomes aesthetic.
So when I put on The Last Waltz, as I just did (again) – and get out my box set of the vinyl signed by Robbie Robertson – everything that could work against it becomes clean.
Time rounds off the edges and all that.
The grime and dirt and even the redubs (of which there are apparently many) all get honed down to this thing that’s a better version of reality.
Which I guess is what History is anyway.
This agreeable and agreed upon essence of what a time was supposed to be and mean.
And it’s not truth but it’s also not *not* truth. I’ve been eyewitness to more than my share of mundane historic events that maybe needed that lacquer of revision to become what they were supposed to be in the first place.
—jason malmberg
Flommist Jason Malmberg is a simple man who believes in brown liquor and small dogs. He also makes art sometimes. Copyright © 2019 Jason Malmberg.
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