Recorded a year after The Velvet Underground's 1967 debut, The Band's was not as sketchily recorded as that of their fellow East Coasters', though Music from Big Pink had its own issues in line with the loosey goosey, let-it-all-hang-out ethos of its time. Sometimes there was a bit of extra grit around the vocals. Singer Richard Manuel sometimes had a tendency to express his s sounds a little too emphatically. Garth Hudson's Goth organ solo at the beginning of "Chest Fever" shared space with quite a bit of tape hiss. The mix was a bit narrow and soft.
A lot of these issues were cleaned up in 2018, when Music from Big Pink was reissued with a spacious new remix. But that kind of revisionist monkeying apparently isn't what the Vinylphyle series is all about (an exception being the 1996 stereo remix of Pet Sounds included with the VP edition of The Beach Boys' mono masterpiece, which I can't comment further on since I'd couldn't snag a copy).
The Music from Big Pink now enjoying its Vinylphyle coming-out party is the original mix, so the grit is there, Manuel's sharp s's are there, the hiss is there, and so is the tighter mix. As I did with VU&N, I have to listen to this material on its own terms, and all I can say is that the Vinylphyle record sounds excellent for what it is. The soundstage is strong, the acoustic instruments and organs warm, Rick Danko's bass round and distortion-free, and Levon Helm's deep toms as punchy as ever. It sounds the way you want Music from Big Pink to sound, at least if you're a purist averse to that 2018 remix, which I personally think is superb.
The only non-vintage flaws I noticed are a few very light ticks in the right channel I heard through headphones, but not through the speakers, and very, very slight bowling at the label, though that might have more to do with the record being shipped in the middle of a particularly brutal summer than any pervasive pressing issues. It does not affect the sound whatsoever.
Like all records in this series, Music from Big Pink arrives in a thick, high-quality tip-on sleeve, with a fold-out liner notes insert tucked into the gatefold's spare pocket. Bob Dylan's cover painting is as ugly as it was in 1968, but the new package is quite lovely.
