Levon Helm Rambles On

Not surprisingly, the Midnight Rambles were an immediate success when they started last summer, and now they are selling out weeks in advance, mostly through word of mouth and Helm's Web site. "We do everything over the Internet in these modern times," Helm says, pleased by the irony of his deeply rooted music finding its audience with the help of technology.

A kind of community feeling hovers over the proceedings, which take place every other Saturday night in a loftlike barn in the woods on his property -- Helm is one of those cultural bridges that connect people who are ordinarily at odds with one another. "Levon is the link between the hippies and the firemen," says his daughter Amy, 35, and it's true. In fact, a few local police officers and firefighters volunteer for "Helmland Security," a way to lend support and enjoy the show for free. People come with dogs and children; there's a free buffet and most of the food is brought by the guests themselves.

Something always happens. On a cold night last winter, not only was the place packed, but Elvis Costello and Allen Toussaint braved the season's biggest snowstorm to drive up from New York to sit in with Helm and his friends. Two weeks ago, on a balmy summer night, it was less star-studded, but there were special guests just the same -- Helmland Security issued a laconic warning that a mother bear and her two cubs were on the property and had tried to scratch their way into Helm's bedroom.

Levon Helm is an inexhaustible, irreplaceable fountain of American music, and the people who gather to hear him play know it. Even in the populist atmosphere of the barn, his entrance brings on an explosion of shouts and cheers. At sixty-six, he is as thin as the dividing line on a two-lane blacktop, and yet his smile has the pop and dazzle of a flashbulb, his energy so immense that when he plays his mandolin, or the drums, or opens his mouth to sing, fans often rise to their feet.