My Definitive Twilight
Some songs don’t find their truest form until years after they’re written. Twilight is one of them.
Originally recorded by The Band in the late ‘70s, it never quite reached the same legendary status as The Weight or It Makes No Difference, but for those who know, it’s a hidden gem—one of the most bittersweet, quietly devastating songs Robbie Robertson (or, if you ask Rick Danko, he) ever wrote. And while the original version has its charm, for me, the definitive take came years later, on February 5, 1989, when Rick Danko and Garth Hudson played it on Mountain Stage.
It’s my favorite version, hands down. There’s something raw, something fragile about it that makes the song feel more alive than ever. It’s not just nostalgia, and it’s not just another live take—it’s Twilight at its most honest.
That night, the two Band veterans weren’t alone. They were backed by a small but incredibly tight group of musicians who brought something special to the performance.
Backing Danko and Hudson that night was a tight-knit group of seasoned musicians who brought depth and texture to the performance. Tommy Spurlock’s dreamy, weightless slide guitar added a sense of longing that perfectly matched Danko’s voice, a skill he honed working with artists like The Flying Burrito Brothers and Willie Nelson.
Andy Robinson, a multi-instrumentalist who had played with Eric Clapton and Paul Simon, provided subtle yet steady drumming while his harmony vocals added an extra layer of warmth. Holding it all together was John Kessler, a rock-solid bassist and producer, whose steady groove allowed Danko to fully immerse himself in the song. Together, they created something truly special—an intimate, haunting version of Twilight that lingers long after the final note.
Garth Hudson performing at Mountain Stage, 1989.
This performance happened on Mountain Stage, a live music radio show produced by West Virginia Public Broadcasting. It started in 1983 and has since become a staple of NPR, hosting countless legendary artists over the years. That night, the show’s host, Larry Groce, introduced Danko and Hudson with a little extra warmth. He had a personal connection—back in 1983, both Garth Hudson and Richard Manuel played on his album Medicine Man. So when Danko and Hudson rolled through West Virginia in 1989, Mountain Stage was a natural stop.
Garth with Larry Groce and producer Randy Nauret during the recording of Medicine Man, 1983.
At the time, they had been touring with Levon Helm as part of Ringo Starr’s first All-Starr Band, so they were already in good musical shape. But this set was something different—more intimate, more reflective.
Years later, this version of Twilight ended up on Mountain Stage, Vol. 1, a compilation album featuring some of the show’s most memorable performances. That’s how it got a second life, reaching a wider audience beyond the people who were lucky enough to hear it live that night.
And thank god for that, because this version deserves to be heard.
Danko’s vocal is what makes it so powerful. He had a way of making a song feel deeply personal, like he wasn’t just singing it—he was inside it. And that’s what makes Twilight hit so hard in this performance. And then, of course, there was Garth Hudson. Always the quiet genius of The Band, his keyboard playing on this performance is as understated as it is brilliant. He never overplays—he just finds the right moments to fill in the gaps, weaving his organ into the song like it’s a ghost in the background.
The song is about a man trying to hold onto something that’s slipping away, and Danko sings it like he knows exactly what that feels like. Maybe that’s why he always insisted he co-wrote it, despite Robertson taking the sole credit. Whatever the real story is, you can feel that it was more than just another song to him.
By 1989, The Band’s original era was long gone, but this performance proves the music still had weight. This wasn’t just some run-through of an old tune—it was two men who had lived these songs, playing them with the kind of depth and understanding that only comes with time.
If you haven’t heard this version of Twilight, you need to. It’s not just a great live cut—it’s the version of the song. The one where every note, every breath, feels exactly right.
