Cindy greeted people as she normally did. Parking lot staff and part-timers smoked cigarettes and talked about the old nights as cars came in. The smell of cannabis hung in the air. It was a beautiful, chilly evening on Sept. 25, ahead of the nor’easter, and around 50 or so music fans had gathered at Levon Helm Studios.

The rituals were familiar; and the mood was bittersweet. 

After a summer of cancellations and a family dispute that had become national news, the Barn was hosting live music again. Laith Al-Saadi, a guitarist and singer from Michigan, was playing two nights—the venue’s first concerts in two months. No other performance is on the books until Foy Vance on April 29, 2027.

It felt right to be back in the space Levon built, where music brought the community together. But like the clouds gathering overhead, the turmoil surrounding the Barn’s power shift hung over the evening. Those who had come tried to enjoy being there, unsure when they would be back.

Mindy Kennedy, the mother of the local musician Connor Kennedy, was there. Bill McKenna, the former town supervisor, came with his wife, Hilary. The musician Clip Payne was there. Most people approached didn’t want to speak on the record. The Barn’s troubles had traveled well beyond Woodstock, and few seemed eager to become part of the next account.

A couple from Glenford had missed the controversy. They had come for the music and were sad to learn these were the last shows scheduled for months. They reminisced about seeing the Gypsy Kings pre-Covid in the space, and what it must’ve been like to see Levon play there. 

Brian Parillo, the company’s president, was smoking an American Spirit outside before the show.

“We’re working on adding shows, and have a talent buyer,” he said.

The empty calendar didn’t mean the venue would remain closed until April. But after more than a dozen cancellations, getting musicians back into the room had become a challenge.

Parillo described the dispute as a “family squabble,” and seemed assured more musicians would be booked. “The best way to honor Levon was to keep the music here,” Parillo said. He also said firefighters and emergency medical workers had been invited to attend for free, as was a tradition started by Levon.

He was also still seeking ways to refund people whose concerts had been canceled. He didn’t give a timetable.

The venue’s published ticket policy promises automatic refunds when a show is canceled without a new date. For some ticket holders, that promise remained unfulfilled.

In a statement previously provided to The Overlook, Parillo said an initial round of refunds had been issued, but the company lacked enough money to complete the rest.

“There’s a substantial gap between what’s in the account and what’s owed in refunds, and closing that gap is what I’ve been working on since I took over,” he said.

The upheaval began in May, when Amy Helm, Levon’s daughter, was removed from management after his widow, Sandra “Sandy” Helm, and his former manager, Barbara O’Brien, assigned their voting rights to Parillo. Musicians publicly supported Amy, and shows were canceled. In August, the company sued her and other defendants in federal court, alleging financial misconduct. She has denied the allegations.

Al-Saadi’s shows, announced Aug. 14, were the first since Noah Gundersen played July 25. 

Before his first show, Al-Saadi said strangers had attacked him online, “insulting me, saying they lost all respect for me, that I was crossing a picket line.”

“I didn’t come out here to make money,” he said. “I think everybody wants music to continue in a place that Levon wanted music to always be a part of.”

Inside, John Scurti, an actor known for his role in the FX series “Rescue Me” and a longtime neighbor of the venue, opened with a joke about a baby polar bear questioning whether he really was a polar bear. When the polar bear’s mother asked why the cub was having doubts, he responded:

“Because I’m fucking freezing.”

In trying to break the ice, Scurti recalled nights when Levon and his band seemed to blow the roof off, and the musicians who came through to join them. His introduction became a plea.

“The memories of this place are so strong to me,” he said. “We can’t let this place ever become a memory.”

Keeping the Barn going had been a precarious business before. Levon Helm, the drummer and singer for The Band and a three-time Grammy winner as a solo artist, began the Midnight Rambles in 2004 as he faced foreclosure. The concerts helped him keep the building and fueled a late-career resurgence before his death in 2012.

Now, people who shared an attachment to the place disagreed over whether showing up helped preserve it.

Al-Saadi, 48, an Ann Arbor musician and former finalist on NBC’s “The Voice,” told the audience about his own history there. He credited O’Brien with helping build his Woodstock following and bringing him back after his television run. O’Brien was there on Sept. 25 and in a short conversation, pointed to the stage and said, “this is what it’s about.”

Al-Saadi spoke about discovering The Band through “The Last Waltz,” and about the music of the 1960s and ’70s, made amid war and upheaval by artists who believed it could change the world.

He questioned how leaving the venue without music could help it survive.

“There may be a fight going on, but this needs to survive first and foremost,” he told the crowd. “Then fight over it.”

In the interview, he defended his decision to play at the Barn. 

“But listen, man. I am here because it’s hallowed ground, because it’s one of my favorite musicians of all time. It’s because it’s Levon.”

The argument over carrying on Levon’s legacy was difficult to escape, even on a night devoted to doing so.

From the stage, Al-Saadi acknowledged that he had been unsure what kind of reception awaited him.

“I’m so happy to see so many familiar faces because we were scared about what this was going to be,” he said.

The crowd was smaller than some he had played at the Barn. But those who came, he said, were making him feel as though he were playing in somebody’s living room.

For two evenings, the familiar faces were back and there was music to hear. The refunds remained unresolved. The calendar still had a seven-month hole. The future of Levon Helm Studios remains uncertain.

Noah Eckstein is the editor-in-chief of The Overlook. Send correspondence to noah@theoverlooknews.com.

John W. Barry contributed reporting. Barry is a reporter for The Overlook. Reach him at john@theoverlooknews.com.