University of Virginia Library

Grateful Dead Resurrect Country, Blues, Jazz

By ROB PRITCHARD

Waiting for my first
Grateful Dead concert, amid a
euphorically chaotic crowd of
some 16,000 "Dead freaks", a
veteran of eight of their
concerts remarked to me in a
perfectly serious,
matter-of-fact tone, "You
know," he said, "I've finally
found the meaning of life. Life
is a Grateful Dead concert; all
else but an interim."

Well, now that I have
become a veteran of two Dead
concerts, proudly displaying
my ticket stub and
grass-stained trousers
alternately like well-earned
battle scars and my keys to the
pearly gate, I, too, have found
the meaning of existence. Just
point me toward the next
Grateful Dead concert, if you
will, please.

Being a veteran, like the
theory of auteur, holds special
meaning-in relation to a group
such as the Grateful Dead. For
after becoming familiar with a
few of their songs, and
especially after hearing them
perform live, all of the rest
warrant an actively involved
perception.

This, however, is so obvious
as to be absurd to a follower of
Jerry Garcia and his merry
band; in fact, it is this common
assumption, common at least
among fans, which allows

Garcia And His Merry Band:

"The Great Freedom Of Movement"

Garcia the great freedom of
movement, the breath-taking,
mind-boggling runs, leaps and
transitions, which mark him as
one of the greatest guitar
players, ever to have fingered
the instrument.

But perhaps Garcia's skill,
complimented fully by Bob
"Ace" Weir's rhythm guitar
and Phil Lesh's bass, can be
best observed in concert where
his mastery over the guitar
assumes at times a free-form,
dream-like quality reminiscent
of Jimi Hendrix at his best, and
at other times, it reflects
Garcia's rock and roll/blues
roots–enough so to make
Chuck Berry appear no more
than competent–as, say, a
Ringo Starr.

Beginning an old standard,
such as "Trucking" or "Uncle
John's Band", in the
traditional manner, the
Grateful Dead, with Garcia
forging ahead, soon severs all
ties with the original tune,
preferring instead to launch an
evolutionary exploration into
areas where sensory perception
and intellect effect and react to
each other directly. For
perhaps 20 minutes, though it
is often hard to say, complete
dominance is maintained over
the crowd by Garcia's initial
hypnotic thematic statements
and slight variations thereof.

With the audience firmly
under their control, however,
the Grateful Dead quickly shift
from supportive blues rhythms,
and country leads to an
extremely active texture
highlighted by Garcia's
excursions into dream-like runs
which united produce a stream
of consciousness effect quite
unprecedented in the area of
popular music.

But the Dead are never
static. Having once established
and elaborated upon a
statement, they slide, often by
use of syncopation and
imitation, into an entirely
different presentation; from,
for instance, variations on a
country/blues theme to an almost
surreal interpretation of
progressive jazz.

This can be readily observed
in "Saint Stephen" and "The
Eleven", two continuous songs
which occupy an entire side on
the rather old, yet still
masterfully innovative, first
Live/Dead album. Beginning
slowly and ambiguously by
covering a wide range, as much
by implication as by actual
statement, the Dead suddenly,
blast into a follow-up of the
major motive, establishing the
thematic pattern upon which
the vocals are supported and to
which the Dead return after
developing lengthy variations
and additional themes.

Following a brilliant
interpretation of the original
statement which seems
effortlessly, to roll off their
fingertips into the listener's
mind, a device, by the way,
they frequently use to bridge
the gap between the here and
there, the powerfully subtle
Bill Kreutzmann on drums and
Phil Lesh lead the others
through an extremely difficult
transition in which they change
time while repositioning
themselves in order to explode
into "The Eleven."

Since the recording of
Live/Dead, the Grateful Dead's
style has undergone a number
of changes, perhaps the most
dramatic of which was the
adaptation of country music
and the resultant album,
Workingmans Dead, (1970).
Although still heavily
influenced by country music,
the influence is now an
inherent one, the Dead's roots
having sprouted forth from
country, rock and roll and
blues; the distinction between
them is increasingly difficult to
define.

Another important
alteration, and one which
promises to aid greatly in the
continued evolution of the
Grateful Dead, both
individually and collectively, is
the freedom allowed members
of the group to play and record
with other artists. Most notable
in this regard is Garcia, who
has performed on at least four
major independent albums in
the last year or so, although on
most, members of the Dead
play as well. Weir, also, has
recently recorded an excellent
album entitled Ace. Here, too,
the musicians are all members
of the Grateful Dead.

Perhaps the best recorded
example of what may be yet
another turn in style, and one
which was embryonicly
apparent in at least two of the
Dead's latest concerts
(Philadelphia and Washington)
can be found in a largely
undiscovered album Garcia
recorded with Howard Wales,
called Hooteroll? Without a
doubt, Garcia's collaboration
with the superb blues/jazz
organist, Wales, will continue
to produce dramatically
important results.

To a large extent, the
Dead's recent dream-like style
of playing, characterized by
slowly evolving, minutely
subtle melodies which at times
are intentionally shattered (to
say nothing of our minds) by
powerfully syncopated chords
and notes, by Lesh's imitation
and by a general accelerando,
can be attributed to Garcia's
experiences with Wales on
Hooteroll? It seems likely,
too, that the increased
influence and often outright
performance of jazz
preeminently displayed
throughout much of their
latter concerts can be
developmentally traced to
Hooteroll? as well.

What these stylistic
refinements hold in store is
hard to say at this point,
although I have heard that a
new double or triple album
recorded live in New York, and
soon to be released, will
provide ample testimony to the
continuing musical evolution
of the Grateful Dead. Until
then, and with pardons
extended to Mick Jagger for
this gross interpretation, "I
don't want to talk 'bout
Garcia, just wanta hear him
play."