Flashback

from 4/6/1993

Do The Dead Live?

"Why do those people follow the Grateful Dead everywhere? Why do they spend so much time seeing the same show over and over?"

This question is heard a lot whenever the subject of the Dead comes up. Like so many other questions related to this long-running musical phenomenon, this one is not conducive to a brief answer. There is so much involved, so many different factors and influences on those who enjoy the music of this band of artists who have been playing together for more than twenty-five years.

Let's start with the 'scene,' that is, the environment of a Grateful Dead show. Of course this varies from place to place; the 'scene' at a small outdoor venue in the country-side can be much different from that at a stadium in Pittsburgh or Chicago. But much is the same.

It starts as you approach the entrance to the site. People walk along the roads offering shirts for sale, waving a sign or fingers in supplication for tickets, or just hoofing it to the show. Almost all are smiling. On the road you will see a lot of Volkswagen Buses, the ultimate concert-going vehicle: compact but roomy, dependable (and easy to fix,) and the next best thing to an RV when you're camping. There are also old school buses, vans, and a few gas-guzzling land cruisers. But most of the crowd arrives in cars you might see anywhere in the country: mainly small, fuel efficient hatchbacks and wagons.

The parking lot becomes a combination market, tailgate party, and traveling circus. Anything you might need is for sale: food, drink, blankets, cigarettes, and assorted Deadhead paraphernalia such as T-shirts, crystals, cassette covers, stickers, and anything else creative people can make. Walking through the crowd you might hear drumbeats in the next row, where a group of musicians, dancers, and listeners partake of the muse. There are dogs, loving the attention of thousands of gentle people. Friends greet each other with genuine affection, whether they last saw each other years ago or the night before. There are cookouts, hacky-sack games, and all the accouterments of a huge block party.

The people...well, the people are hard to describe. There is no dress code, no requirement for admission as a Deadhead. The crowd is mostly young adults, but ages range from one to one hundred. Many are students; others are doctors, lawyers, blue-collar workers, artists... All are treated as equals, and as a rule everyone helps out everyone else. Dress is casual and functional; no need for a tie here, though tie-dyes are the closest thing to a uniform. No two tie-dyes are alike, though, and that is symbolic of the spirit of individuality that pervades the scene. Every person is equal, and important, and valued.

All are joined together by a knowledge that they are here to see the best band in the world, and take part in an event based on respect, love and understanding. By the time they get into the venue itself, all are full of excitement and expectation. 'There's nothing like a Grateful Dead show!'

The Music

One question Deadheads hear a lot is 'How can you follow a band around, hearing the same songs?' Well, that's one of the reasons the Dead have such a loyal following: you don't hear the same songs every night. In a quarter century of playing, the Dead have built a repertoire that includes hundreds of original songs, as well as covers of classic blues tunes, traditional bluegrass ballads, and all sorts of rock songs. No matter what genre you're most fond of, you're sure to hear it from the Dead eventually.

Not only is the variety of songs huge, but they're never played the same way twice. In the tradition of jazz improvisation, the Dead can approach a tune from infinite angles. And of course, there's always 'space' and 'drums,' entities that might loosely be called instrumental solos but are more like meandering trips through the musical palette of experienced artists. The band members are always trying new things, exploring the edges of the instruments and their own imaginations. True, some nights it degenerates into somewhat aimless playing, but other times the band pulls amazing sounds and patterns from thin air. On these nights it seems everyone is awed into silence by the force of the music, as if the crowd were on a ship sailing into new worlds.

Music is a force that can release our energy, our emotions, some say our souls. And a truly great Grateful Dead show brings the music to life. At times the notes seem to radiate from the crowd, which undulates to beats not always consciously perceived. The music can unite people, transcend barriers.

Even on a more prosaic level, the music is often uplifting. The musicians and lyricists who write the songs are masters of their art. Sometimes the words tell an archetypical love story, as in 'High Time':

You told me good-bye/ How was I to know

You didn't mean goodbye/ You meant please don't let me go.

Some tell a simple yet eloquent narrative:

Me and my uncle went riding down

South Colorado, West Texas bound

We stopped over in Santa Fe,

That bein' the point just about halfway

And you know it was the hottest part of the day.

(Me and My Uncle)

Or describe a moment in time with understated accuracy, as in 'Scarlet Begonias':

...Not a chill to the winter/ But a nip to the air.

Many songs have intense mystical overtones:

Once in a while you can get shown the light

In the strangest of places if you look at it right.

(Scarlet Begonias)

Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings..

Sometimes we live no particular way but our own...

Sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone

Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own.

(Eyes of the World)

Or statements of personal conviction:

Sure don't know what I'm goin' for

But I'm gonna go for it it's for sure.

(St. of Circumstance)

Some let us into the mind of the songwriter:

Let my inspiration flow, in token lines suggesting rhythm

That will not forsake me till my tale is told and done...

The storyteller makes no choice, soon you will not hear his voice

His job is to shed light, and not to master

(Terrapin Station)

Contrary to some people's expectations of 'sixties' music, only a few have political themes:

A peaceful place, or so it looks from space

A closer look reveals the human race...

So the kids they dance and shake their bones

While the politicians throwing stones

Singing ashes, ashes all fall down...

And the whole world full of petty wars

Singing "I got mine and you got yours."

(Throwing Stones)

Some, frankly, are all but indecipherable at first listen...or tenth:

Eight-sided whispering hallelujah hatrack

Seven-faced marble eye transitory dream doll

(The Eleven)

Look for a while at the China Cat Sunflower

proud-walking jingle in the midnight sun

Copper-dome bodhi drip a silver kimono

Like a crazy-quilt star gown through a dream night wind

(China Cat Sunflower)

Dark star crashes, pouring its light into ashes

Reason tatters, the forces tear lose from the axis

Searchlight casting for faults in the clouds of delusion

Shall we go, you and I while we can?

Through the transitive nightfall of diamonds

(Dark Star)

After a good show, people wander out in a daze, not quite sure that the world of the parking lot is the real world. Tapes of previous shows, which, unlike many bands, the Dead allow to be recorded, play throughout the lot. The scene is similar to that before the show, but with a more mellow aspect. Everyone is worn out from dancing their hearts out during the show.

So, in summation, why is a Dead show different than any other concert? The uniqueness of the music (and the audience)...there's nothing in the world like a Grateful Dead show, and as the saying goes: They're not the best at what they do--they're the only ones who do what they do.