The Dead

I love The Dead. The Dead, the now touring band of former Grateful Dead members plus Warren Haynes and Jeff Chimenti. Their show at Shoreline Amphitheater last night was exceptional. A profoundly memorable event. I am truly grateful to have been a part of it. As a musician, I'm in awe of the skill set. Rhythmically, they were tight, flowing like a surging river of sound, every particle deeply integrated with the movement of the whole. Esthetically, the tones of each instrument blended richly, and presented a flavor of music that combined classic elegance with modern panache. I have spent the last few years trying to learn how to play that way. Last night gave me the chance to really appreciate why I want to be able to do that.

Which brings me to the greater takeaway from The Dead listening experience. And that is its value on the human level. True, recreation is recreation and great fun was certainly had. But what if you had to make sense of it? I can think of a lot of ways to amuse myself. Why am I writing about The Dead, and hoping to convince you to see the value that I see in them? It is because what they offer is rare and precious. And perhaps for that reason, can be difficult to get at. My intent is to help whet the appetite and lower the hurdles.

I completely missed the Deadhead scene during the 80s and 90s when I was immersed in Florida pop radio - Janet Jackson, Madonna, Howard Jones, and Duran Duran. I loved tweaking the Dolby settings on my walkman, and considering the richness of CrO2 cassettes versus normal bias. I loved sound, and songs. But in many ways I wasn't really listening. That is to say, I wasn't fully listening. What were the people making those sounds doing? What were they saying? What motivated them to make the sounds they were making? I often didn't know the lyrics to my favorite songs. I definitely couldn't articulate the rhythm. Even pitch escaped me. But I felt drawn to the music. I could feel something in it, and that feeling has brought me to this point today, where I insist and urge everyone I care about - and even those I don't - to go after more depth. Take my word for it, there's more available, and it's worth the effort to seek it. Late on the Dead scene, it's the answers to these questions that really inspire me to dig in.

The Grateful Dead, and presumably The Dead are encumbered with an image that many people seem to be unable to get past. Not sure if it's the drugs, or the hippies, or the jeans and sneakers regalia in which they appear. But I often find a certain blankness in the people I discuss this music with. There's a sense that I'm being written off for some reason. I must say, the crowd really can be a turnoff. Constant chatter, sometimes stupidly inebriated, many who show up aren't really there. Ignore them as much as you can and focus on the music. If you find yourself unable to connect, I would really challenge you to consider that you're not getting it, and keep trying, instead of deciding its not there. I am only talking about the music here, not the scene, not the image, not any other thing. Just sound and purpose.

I like a lot of different bands with different styles and flavors. The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Radiohead, Pink Floyd - so many important moments in my life linked to and colored by these epic artists' work. They've helped get through tough situations, inspired some beautifully joyful ones. But let's go a little further. Harmony, I think, is the condition of distinct elements showing their innate relationship through cooperation - when tangible parts line up to suggest their intangible whole. Cycles combine into deeper, richer cycles. I think most of us have experienced situations in which our natural cycles were challenged. Things were less than harmonious. Where pressures were put on us, and we had to deal. For me, this meant choosing to detach from awareness of certain things, creating filters to keep out certain kinds of distress. That translated into a certain kind of silence in the flow of things. And to fill that silence, so many behaviors emerge twisted into a range of disturbed patterns.

Which brings me back to music. Why bother? It's not a requirement for life. Air, food, water, shelter and we exist. But what about a collapsing economy, mercury in the water, priests who rape kids? What about a 50% divorce rate, domestic violence, alcoholism, war, obesity, deforestation? This is the world we live in. What is going on with the people responsible for these situations? My argument in grand summary: they aren't listening. That is to say, something is going on for them that keeps them separate, distant, selfish, embroiled in their own detached existence, unable to find common ground in fellow seekers of life, sympathy and connection. Or maybe they're just pure evil, and can't be helped. Those people should not bother with music. For the rest of us, for the people with good hearts, trying to do what's right, what makes sense, trying to feel their own humanity, I cannot beg you enough to give The Dead a chance. What makes them different from other musicians is a commitment to delivering harmony with magical depth.

Recognizing how we come at things with filters, one thing to consider is how that limits the appreciation and understanding of what's there. So much of what's popular feeds the desire to be surprised - to hear something new and different, or the desire to be accepted - to hear something that fits the prescription of cool and hip. Or music comes from a place of venting, an expression of pain or anger or lust. All of these are okay. But life can be simpler than it seems, and the greatest truths are those things that remain the same. If you try to make sense of these other motivations for music, you find that their impact is limited. They are a kind of short term balm. Their influence doesn't fit with the end game. For The Dead, connection is the focus, and their ability to connect solidly deeply and thoroughly amounts to the kind of listening experience that I have only begun to dream about. The musicians are not only connecting with themselves and the audience, but also with the soul that seeks and delivers music in the first place. This, to me, is the psychedelic experience.

The Dead produce the sounds of getting along. The wall of sound is a place to open up to a feeling of being integrated into a greater whole. To recognize spirituality as a focus on what's important - what really truly matters. To be willing and able to cross the chasm of fear and uncertainty by trusting in some greater cycle in which we fit.

Religion, pedantry, glory, whatever. There are so many distractions. So many places to focus that are dead ends. So many chances for hamsterwheeling through life, spinning unraveling energy into frayed cords, rather than winding them into stable guide ropes. I am suggesting the choice of a deliberate valuable point of focus. For anyone who can listen, I suggest you listen to The Dead. Email me if you need a suggestion. Go to Dead.net and download some shows. Go to archive.org and listen to some shows. Buy their discs. I have seen hundreds of live music shows in my life, and last night had to be one of the finest. Standing on The Moon into Terrapin Station and back in to Moon was so sweet. Estimated Prophet into New Potato Caboose was a musical highlight. And Dear Mr. Fantasy just blew it out in terms of energy and enthusiasm. And I haven't even begun to discuss the details. The intricate stories of each song that reflect on love, loss, conflict, hope, struggle. It is poetry of emotion. Deft and intelligent. The phenomenal writing craft of Robert Hunter articulating the messages of the melodies. These guys are in another league when it comes to storytelling. But I will leave these details to your own discovery.

When I discuss music with people, so much of what goes on involves naming styles and patterns and comparing one thing with another. It's like an exercise in sorting and filing. The interest is in pushing things around, rather than just taking it in and getting something out of it. I say this recognizing my own ongoing struggle to get past this behavior. Part of what I've realized from a lifetime of not fully paying attention is that it's easy to see past the thing you're looking at and therefore miss what it has to offer. Some of this has to do with the limitations of what we're often given to look at.

I have to mention the dancers during Drums. First off, Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann are hands down the most solid drummers I can think of. They relate emotionally. That is to say, they're not counting gaps and trying to hit the markers, or worse trying to wow and amaze with rhythmic zingers, but instead appear to be agreeing on a four-dimensional rhythmic form and then spraying its surface with notes like fireworks silhouetting a skyscraper. They give you structure as well as fluidity. That soundtrack against body-painted women gyrating and whirling fire balls was not a bad intermission between songs. So much costumed dance comes across as constricted, cheesy, as though people are hiding in their own uncertainty. Not this one. The art of the dance, and the art of the dancers themselves was so humane - legit on a basic level. For anyone who can appreciate the beauty of Balinese woodcarving, imagine that forged with life and lit with fire. These dancers were enhanced by their decoration, rather than subdued by it. And their craft was passionate and strong - a real treat again to experience among the stodgily empty perfectionism of so much other stage work. Definitely a solid accompaniment to the circus of sound.

In summary, as I see it, popular culture suffers from an overwhelming dearth of real value. People present themselves as entertainers for so many unfulfilling reasons, and their presentations trickle through all the filters of their own pain and confusion. But there are other options, and I submit The Dead as a very good one. I have had great experiences with Ratdog, Dark Star Orchestra, and Phil and Friends - bands with similar intentions. They are worth checking out too. Still, hands down, these guys are the real deal. Along with exceptional talent and top-notch material, they bring to the stage a wisdom of the ages, no doubt honed by their own ongoing struggles that grounds the whole affair in a deep and lasting place. What they offer is not just entertaining, but is in fact enriching, like a searchlight beaconing truth among clouds of delusion. Check them out.