Archive for Grateful Dead

Searching For The Sound: When Audiences Drown Out The Music

Posted in Grateful Dead, Los Angeles, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 8, 2013 by halmasonberg

7b988d3981468cc48bd289c2a57e5d22I suppose there has always been rude people at live shows. Any concert I’ve ever been to has had talkers. You know, those folks who seem to be only peripherally aware that someone is on stage making music and that there are people actually engaged in listening (or trying to listen, as the case may be). And of course, the louder the music, the louder the chatter.

But it used to be that a few dagger stares or a handful of friendly requests of “Shhh” or “Could you please keep it down?” would more or less do the trick. Sometimes, getting up and moving to another location within the venue would be a viable solution. But nowadays, these talkers seem to have become a larger percentage of the audience. And recently, some on-stage artists have had to be very vocal about their frustration. And rightfully so. I applaud these musicians and my heart breaks for their frustration. As my heart breaks for all those in attendance whose experience was negatively impacted by those whose conversations were more important to them than honoring and respecting the musicians they supposedly paid some pretty steep prices to see (but obviously not listen to).

A few years back, I was at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles seeing the band Furthur and the woman next to me was talking up a storm. I mean full-blown, in-depth conversation. FAR louder than the music. And no matter how many people would kindly ask her and her friends to keep it down, she couldn’t control herself for more than one or two minutes before the top-of-her-lungs chatter began again. When I finally asked her outright “Why?” she replied “Sometimes this music is just better as background” to which I suggested that maybe it would make better background in her living room and not at the Greek Theatre where the rest of us are actually trying to listen and be engaged. She laughed, as if I’d been joking, and wen’t back to being her apparently oblivious –or just plain rude– self.

This past year, seeing the same band at the same venue, the gentlemen sitting next to me were engaged in a full-blown conversation for almost the entire duration of the band’s 3 hour-plus concert. They’d look up periodically at the band if the music got loud enough (loud enough to interrupt their conversation, that is), but they quickly returned to their very important socializing, completely unaware of all the people whose experiences they were sabotaging.

These people appear to have no sense of what the group dynamic is. Or the power of music. And since it’s not against the law to talk at such venues (though it seems new rules are starting to – thankfully- be put in place at some smaller houses), more and more people seem to be doing it.

Bob Weir, one of the founding members of the Grateful Dead, was playing a solo acoustic set at his own Sweetwater Music Hall in Northern California recently when he felt impelled to end his set in mid-song when audience members refused to stop talking during his performance. Despite his vocal efforts to gain some respect and silence the offending ticket-holders, Weir finally chose to give up and walk off stage. And I don’t blame him. When he returned later in the evening backed by his band, the chatter continued, eliciting pleas of “Shut the Fuck up!” from this now completely frustrated and insulted bandleader.

Several years ago, performer Jeff Tweedy stopped his show in mid-set to confront the audience. He asked them outright what they needed. Was he doing something wrong? Was there something else he should be doing to gain their attention and respect?

Is this a reflection of something bigger? Has it indeed gotten worse, or has it always been this bad? Should venues implement a no-talking rule (at least within reason)? I know at the Hollywood Bowl, ushers will ask attendees to please refrain from talking if they are disturbing other patrons during a concert of the Philharmonic. So why not during all other concerts? Is other music somehow less important? Or is it just our perception of appropriate behavior in conjunction with certain styles of music? Perhaps, we need to ask these ushers to step in and quiet these disrespectful or apathetic talkers down. Or perhaps there should be a special “talking section” where folks can hear the music, but engage in conversation at the same time without disturbing the rest of the audience. We certainly don’t put up with talking in a movie theater. We understand that it destroys the experience of engaging with the film. The same is true for engaging with music. And perhaps more musicians ought to step up and ask the audience to be quiet. Despite the fact that, as in Weir’s case, it seems to not initially make a difference. But perhaps it’s the first step in changing the public awareness and expectations surrounding musical events. Instead of allowing those loud few to set the rules of conduct, why don’t musicians and audiences alike take back the live musical experience and demand a certain mode of conduct which is appropriate for such events. Like I said, we already implement this in movie theaters (though talkers do find their way in there and are, often, eventually silenced by an outraged crowd). We also do it in libraries. We set the rules of appropriate conduct. We do it at the symphony, which often takes place in many of the same venues as other types of concerts. And at the opera. So why not all concerts?

If only I could steal the voices of these folks –just temporarily– like Ursula in THE LITTLE MERMAID… I promise to give them back the moment the show’s over.

You have my word.

Just Heading Out: That Fateful Day in ’95

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 10, 2012 by halmasonberg


Blair Jackson in his recent Golden Road Blog over at Dead.net asked the question “Where were you when you heard the news?”

This was my answer:

August 9, 1995. I was home and getting ready to head out the door for work when my phone rang. It was my friend Randy from back east (I was living in L.A. at the time). I knew something must have been up for him to be calling me in the morning hours. Not usual. Of course, I didn’t know exactly what. “Is it true that Jerry’s Dead?” he asked. I hadn’t heard a thing, but in that moment, my heart sank and a dread washed over me. Without confirmation, I knew the odds were that wherever Randy had heard this, it was probably true. Yet I hoped in my silence that it wasn’t, that it was all a piece of gross misinformation that Randy had come in contact with. But my heart was already pumping with nervous energy and fear. I turned on the TV immediately and my dread was fully realized. There was a photo of Jerry and, before even hearing the news report itself, I knew that day I long-dreaded had arrived.

I was already late for work and knew I had to get my shit together and bolt out the door. The drive was interminable, the radio reports confirming and reconfirming this new reality.

Unfortunately for me, no one where I worked was into the Dead. Jerry’s passing, for them, was just another rock and roller biting the dust. My job at the time required that I be “on” and present. No chance to disappear into a side office and make a call to a dear friend who would understand. That came later that day (about 8 hours later), but throughout those long hours I genuinely struggled to maintain myself. Several times tears ran down my cheeks and I managed to hide them from clients. I was also amazed at the depths of my sorrow. There are family members I’ve lost whose deaths I was not nearly as effected by. Yet I had only met Garcia once and, though he was as generous and delightful as one would hope he’d be, we weren’t friends, nor even acquaintances. But through his music, through seeing him live, I felt I knew something integral about the man. And if nothing else, he had touched me, moved me, more times than I could recount. The mere thought that I would never again see him play, that there would be no more Grateful Dead shows, that this experience and this seemingly crucial and beloved part of my life –two-thirds of my life!– had come to a close, left me feeling devastated and empty, confused and lost in a way that only death can elicit.

About two days later, an envelope arrived in the mail. My tickets to see Jerry and the Grateful Dead at the Glen Helen Blockbuster Pavilion. 3rd row center.

So here I am, like everyone else, 17 years later. And Garcia is still a reigning part of my life. His presence is still felt, I’ve just managed to alter my expectations of how he and his music present themselves in my life. And there’s comfort in knowing that there are thousands of others out there who know and share this experience, this experience of mourning the loss and celebrating the life of someone we did not personally know, but whose soul managed to touch us so deeply nonetheless.

Oh, and by the way, I still have those tickets.


Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 9: Death Don’t Have No Mercy

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , on August 9, 2012 by halmasonberg


As another week of celebrating Jerry’s birth and mourning Jerry’s death comes to a close, it seems appropriate to spend a little time in both the dark and light. DEATH DON’T HAVE NO MERCY was a song the Grateful Dead played early in their career. It vanished for a while, but was then resurrected in 1989. When I was playing in the short-lived band DOG GONE, we’d play this song from time to time. My lead guitarist, however, always cringed at the thought simply because he felt it was too dark, too morose, too negative. But for me, the song –particularly as sung and played by Garcia– was so full of genuine emotion as to be nothing less than a testament to the deepest of human experiences.

Music, to me, like any art, exists as expression, as an opportunity to connect people on a primal level, on what may be the most honest level. I want the art I make and the art I receive to run me through the gamut of human experiences and emotions. I’m not the guy who only likes to watch films that make me laugh or listen to music that is upbeat. Happy or sad, light or dark, art elates me. It all has its place and, for me, if you offer one without the other, you indirectly create a distinct lack of balance and end up offering a happy illusion that, at the end of the day, ultimately feels thin and lacking.

As the saying goes “There is no light without the dark.” 

And so we’ll close out this week with a little of the dark which, ironically, leaves me feeling whole and energized, invigorated and alive. Go figure :)

Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 8: Hornsby Resurrects

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2012 by halmasonberg


After the sudden death of longtime Grateful Dead keyboardist Brent Mydland, Bruce Hornsby offered his temporary services to the band until they found and trained someone to be their new permanent keyboardist. Jerry always seemed jazzed when guests sat in with the band and Hornby’s presence really seemed to thrill and inspire Garcia and, as a result, the rest of the band as well. This short but sweet period in the Grateful Dead’s history may well have been their last hurrah before Garcia’s health problems and drug addiction sent him on a downward spiral that eventually led to his premature death.

I’m thankful for Hornsby’s desire and opportunity to sit in with the band and his positive effect on Garcia and the music they created together.

A Certain

Connection

“To honor the Grateful Dead’s wishes, I’d like to have a moment – a moment of silence – for somebody who brought a lot of love to the world, our dear departed brother, Jerry Garcia.”

At the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame I dedicated my performance to Jerry. It was hard to do, but I was so excited. It was a sad reason that I played, but Jerry was someone really special, and I was honored that the Grateful Dead wanted me to do this.

In September 1990, I came into the Dead just winging it off the streets for five nights at Madison Square Garden. There’s nothing like the Grateful Dead audience, and it was incredible for me to bite off a small piece of that.

I always felt a certain connection with Garcia. At RFK during the second night, the next to last song, Wharf Rat, there was a blue light on him. He was singing very soulfully, and I was getting chills up my body. I knew it was a special moment, and I drank it in.

-Bruce Hornsby

This passage is an excerpt from GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, originally published in 1995 by Dupree’s Diamond News. To learn more about Dupree’s Diamond News or how to obtain a copy of GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, click here.

The following is Hornsby’s induction of the Grateful Dead into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I think, in many ways, he nails it. Both from the perspective of a fan and then as someone who had the opportunity to play with them and experience a Grateful Dead concert from the inside. It’s a fun, truthful, and heartfelt induction speech and well worth watching.

And now here’s the Dead’s take on Dylan’s IT TAKES A LOT TO LAUGH, IT TAKES A TRAIN TO CRY from Madison Square Garden with Hornsby and Vince Welnick on keyboards and Branford Marsalis on horns.

And finally, a STANDING ON THE MOON from Madison Square Garden also with Hornsby, Welnick and Marsalis. Enjoy!

Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 7: Ram Dass Remembers

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , on August 7, 2012 by halmasonberg


Spiritual teacher and author of the influential book Be Here Now, Ram Dass was also a firm believer in the spiritual power and energy encompassed and shared by the Grateful Dead and, even more specifically, channeled through the soul and spirit of Jerry Garcia, whom Ram Dass considered to be a bodhisattva. Garcia, of course, never saw himself that way. He always had a somewhat less mystical approach to what he was doing, as is referenced in Barbara Meier’s interview with Garcia:

Barbara Meier: I remember reading Ram Dass describe you as a bodhisattva.

Jerry Garcia: He’s very kind, but I don’t deserve that. I’m just a guy trying to play the right notes, that’s all. If I were to think of myself in a spiritual context, however, I’d think of myself as some sort of Buddhist.

Barbara Meier: Well, music is your practice. When I hear you in concert, I feel you want to push the energy further and further, taking the crowd along with you.

Jerry Garcia: I don’t do it consciously.

Barbara Meier: You must be aware of it.

Jerry Garcia: Only because of the feedback, because of the endless reportage. It’s like UFOs: if enough people say “I saw one the other night; they’re spinning around,” even if I haven’t seen one myself, I start thinking there must be something out there.

Barbara Meier: No intentionality?

Jerry Garcia: Not really. From my point of view, it’s all a bead game. My finest moments have been as part of an audience in a musical situation, or as a performer, when things are unfolding in a graceful way. It’s one of those moments of grace that humans get to experience. When that happens, no one enjoys it more than I do. And when it’s just hard work, that works for me, too.

There are times when I feel I’m playing way below what I’m capable of, and I think, “Well, this whole evening is a giveaway. I never played at the edge of my ability.” I used to hear guys like Pablo Cassals say, “If I don’t play for a day I can tell, if I don’t play for a week my wife can tell, if I don’t play for two weeks everybody in the world can tell,” and I used to think “Ah, come on. . . .” But now I recognize what they’re talking about. It’s a purely technical thing—something my muscles do.

Barbara Meier: I remember you practicing the guitar twelve hours a day.

Jerry Garcia: As far as I know that’s the only way you get good. When you play music, you know how good or how bad you are and what you can or cannot do. And I’m still surprised more people stay than leave. That’s totally baffling.

Barbara Meier: Not only stay, but keep arriving. So what is the Grateful Dead all about?

Jerry Garcia: It varies through time. We’re just trying to play music; it really isn’t any more complicated than that.

Barbara Meier: But there’s this other thing happening.

Jerry Garcia: Yeah, and that has a consciousness of its own, and we’re invented by it. It’s really just a continuation of those old days. Everybody’s gotten older and is doing other things in their lives, but we really never decided to go somewhere or become something. As we go along and gain larger and larger illusions of success, it requires more and more preplanning, and we have to spend more time investing consciousness into the fiction of the corporation. Even though we’ve always operated without an agenda, the hardest part is preserving the illusion of spontaneity. It gets to be more complex as it goes along, full of all kinds of complex ethical questions.

Barbara Meier: Like what?

Jerry Garcia: For example, is it fair to charge people $25 a ticket to go into an enormous stadium and see people on the stage this big? (Jerry holds his thumb and forefinger a half of an inch apart.) I don’t think it is, unless you’re able to create a good enough sound and a large enough image to play to the worst seat in the house.

Barbara Meier: But you do do that.

Jerry Garcia: We try. Another issue concerns the safety of the fans and their exposure, because a lot of people still come to our shows thinking it’s kind of a hole in reality where it’s okay to take drugs. But we can’t protect them. We have no control over the world at large. The police are going to do what they want. Some years the newspapers are full of Dead bashing; and yet there are also years when we gain something like respectability.

Barbara Meier: There’s this amazing nomadic tribal culture that has formed around the Dead

Jerry Garcia: ”Deadheads” aren’t that easy to pin down. They range from professionals doing hard scholarship to total street weirdos. That keeps it interesting, because the feedback is amusing. At the same time I feel guilty, because I wonder, “Isn’t there something real to think about out there? Aren’t there questions that people could be applying their valuable human energy to?” Getting involved with the Grateful Dead isn’t going anywhere except onward.

Barbara Meier: You don’t impose any political message.

Jerry Garcia: I couldn’t do it. The power is frightening.

Barbara Meier: Are you ever tempted?

Jerry Garcia: No. I thought, if I’m going to be onstage I’m not going to say anything to anybody or address the crowd, because it doesn’t matter what you say, sometimes just the sound of your voice might inadvertently set somebody off. The situation with psychedelics is so highly charged that you never know what’s leaking in. I don’t mind doing it in the music, because that’s where I divest myself of ego. It’s egoless, something I trust. If the band has something to protect, it’s the integrity of the experience, which remains shapeless and formless. As long as it stays that way, everything’s okay.

Despite Garcia’s humble reservations about being seen as anything other than a guy doing the best he could to be happy and make music, Ram Dass knew what he knew and those of us who spent time in Garcia’s presence certainly do have a sense of what Ram Dass was speaking of. There was something special there, something unusual. Flawed, but wholly unique and gifted in a way that transcends so much else that those select few of us have encountered on our own personal journeys. There’s a reason why Garcia’s life and passing had such a profound impact on so many. It’s easy for others to dismiss this connection as being purely fabricated or dependent on drugs to maintain the “illusion,” but I tend to think, from my own personal experience and the combined experiences of others I know and have met and have read, that we had a short window of opportunity to share space with someone who unconsciously and unintentionally tapped into something extremely universal and rare. And, lucky for us, he had the innate ability, humility and vulnerability to embrace it and spread it out to all the rest of us. For that experience, I am eternally grateful.

The following was written by Ram Dass shortly after hearing of Garcia’s passing. I have included it here as a photo in order to preserve its intended formatting. You can click on the image to make it larger:

Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 6: David Crosby & The Perro Sessions

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2012 by halmasonberg

Perro, or Planet Earth Rock and Roll Orchestra, was the name given to the group of musicians who played, recorded and jammed together in the early 70′s. They were, essentially, members of Jefferson Airplane, Grateful Dead, Quicksilver Messenger Service, and Crosby, Stills and Nash. Their first album together, Blows Against The Empire, was released, not as the Planet Earth Rock and Roll Orchestra, but as Jefferson Starship (a name later used for Grace Slick and Paul Kantner’s band formed in 1974). They then officially became Planet Earth Rock and Roll Orchestra on David Crosby’s If I Could Only Remember My Name.

In 1971, these musicians got together for rehearsals at Wally Heider Studios and, luckily for us, these sessions were recorded (see below) yielding some truly remarkable music and interactions between this collective group of inspired and supremely talented artists. They were as follows:

Shortly after Garcia’s death in 1995, David Crosby had this to say about his longtime friend:

Missing

Jerry

I remember laughing so hard I got the hiccups. Of course, that might have had something to do with the big sticky buds, but we were a pair of odd ducks anyway, and we cracked each other up a lot.

Jerry, Phil Mickey, and Bill all came to Wally Heider’s many nights when I was recording “If I Could Only Remember My Name.” So much fun, so MUCH music…

What did we lose? One of the best minds in music: articulate, always thinking fresh, original thoughts. Jerry didn’t tell you what he thought you wanted to hear, he told you what he thought.

Jerry played his own way, too, completely unlike any other musician. As different as Hendrix was, in another direction.

Somehow, I wound up being a closer friend to Phil. Jerry wound up being kind of hard to reach to, in the later times. As much as I miss him, I know that Phil and the others miss him more. I listen to Kids and Dogs, or The Wall Song, and… I miss him.

-David Crosby

This passage is an excerpt from GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, originally published in 1995 byDupree’s Diamond News. To learn more about Dupree’s Diamond News or how to obtain a copy of GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, click here.

Here, for your listening pleasure, is some of the now-famous Perro Sessions:

Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 5: Talk to me, David…

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 5, 2012 by halmasonberg

Jerry Garcia and David Grisman played together on and off for many years and in many different incarnations. The last –and one of the most beloved– was as Grateful Dawg, with Jerry on acoustic guitar and David on mandolin. It was a coming together of hearts and minds that simply couldn’t be beat. The music they made was uplifting, breathtaking, and the greatest expression of friendship I’ve ever seen.

My Friend

Jerry

“Talk to me, David…you should talk to me a little bit in my solo…” Garcia was asking me to converse with him musically during the guitar solo he’d been playing after the first verse of Blue Yodel #9, the Jimmie Rodgers classic that we had never played together before.

“Hi, Jerry, nice solo you’re playing,” I quipped. We were kidding around, exchanging light-hearted banter like we always did when we got together in the small recording room that used to be my garage.

Decibel Dave slated “Take 1,” but after the first verse we stopped, not quite sure whether Garcia would sing a long or short yodel. “The tempo’s a little quick, too,” Jerry commented. “Down from the bottom, brother, say way down from Dixie now,” and immediately kicked off a slower, more laid-back groove. “That’s it, that’s the feel. Nothing is moving on the river.” It had been over a year since Jerry and I had hit any licks together, and this was going to be fun.

Fun was always at the heart of the matter with Jerry, and now, three weeks and a thousand universes later, the notion that my world, and the world of countless others, will be decidedly less fun is painfully settling in. Of course, Jerry desperately wouldn’t want me or us to feel this way. I’m certain of that. Every fiber of his being was dedicated to the awesome task of making us all feel better, and he always did. He had those special unique qualities that fused his great creativity with his even greater humanity, tempered always with that sense of humor…fun.

Let’s not confuse the issue, though. Jerome Garcia was a great leader: musically, morally, and spiritually. He didn’t want it, he didn’t seek it, he didn’t ask for it, he may not have even liked it, but he carried that enormous weight with grace, dignity, and a huge sense of responsibility to his fellow man, particularly those less fortunate. If you needed help, he was there. Of course, as we now know, it was Jerry himself who needed help. Although he was getting it, the years had already taken their toll, and that long, strange trip is over. But is it really? Not for us: Jerry’s kids. We need to take his message to heart, find our own creativity and our own path, and help try and make this world a little better, which will be just a little harder for us now. This is our challenge, which I feel we can meet if we can all take a little piece of him with us. We all need to become a little more Jerry-like and move on down the road. Just one more thing I thought you’d want to know – Jerry died with a smile on his face.

-David Grisman

This passage is an excerpt from GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, originally published in 1995 byDupree’s Diamond News. To learn more about Dupree’s Diamond News or how to obtain a copy of GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, click here.

Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 4: Garcia Live Arrives

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 4, 2012 by halmasonberg

Well, it looks like after many years offline, the Jerry Garcia Store is back up and running with a pre-order for a new series of live recording releases starting with the Jerry Garcia Band live at the Capital Theatre in Passaic NJ from March 1, 1980. The lineup back then was John Kahn on bass (of course), Ozzie Ahlers on Keys and Johnny de Foncesca on drums. Hopefully, this set will include both the early and late shows from that date (that’s how they rolled back in the day :)

I’ll certainly be confirming my support with a pre-order. Garcia Band shows have been sorely missing from rotation and my collection will be thrilled to see some new blood. And while you’re getting excited about that release, here’s the entire early show shot on B&W video (as the Cap Theater was know to do!)

Enjoy!

Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 2: Something Like A Bird…

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 2, 2012 by halmasonberg


When Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia wrote the lilting tune BIRD SONG, it was a heartfelt ode to Janis Joplin. It grew into one of the most beloved and experimental of all Grateful Dead songs and it remained in their repertoire until the end.

Now, Phil Lesh and Bob Weir’s extraordinary band, Furthur, plays the tune, but with a twist: after the extended jam, Phil changes the words from “All I know is something like a bird within her sang” to “All I know is something like a bird within HIM sang. All I know HE sang a little while and then flew on.” Garcia’s ode to another has become Phil’s ode to Jerry. Yes, Phil’s deep voice doesn’t capture the delicate qualities of Garcia’s, but there’s still purpose behind the song and it still takes us on quite a journey, albeit a rather different one than Garcia and the Grateful Dead took us on.

And just to compare, here’s a BIRD SONG from the Grateful Dead in Veneta, Oregon, 1972 (widely considered one of the best BIRD SONGs ever played), and another by Furthur at the (rainy) Wanee Festival in Live Oak, Florida earlier this year (plus a couple extra tunes just in case you wanna stay in the groove!).

Enjoy!

Jerry Garcia Week 2012 Day 1: Turning 70…

Posted in Grateful Dead, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 31, 2012 by halmasonberg

Today, had he lived, Jerry Garcia would have turned 70. I wonder what kind of a celebration we would have had. Assuming he had managed to regain his health, had finally quit the persian for good, and was still making music. It would have been a time to smile. Wide. But here we find ourselves caught in the melancholy between mourning and celebration. So much music to rediscover, to explore, the vast online Archive of Garcia’s contribution, the stories, the words, the songs, that smile…

Dead.net has put up some tributes to Jerry from back in 1995, the year of his death. I’m gonna borrow a handful over the next few days to post here. Along with some music that another incredible soul, Mr. Bill Graham, would have liked as it appears on the site dedicated to his vault of treasures known as Wolfgang’s Vault.

To begin, here are some words from John Perry Barlow on losing Garcia.

Losing Jerry

In the time since Jer shuffled off his sorry old meat and flew away, I have found myself incapable of writing about it, or even talking about it very much.

I’ve been silent as a flat coon on this, one of the most important deaths of my death-shadowed life. I’ve received hundreds of e-messages from my fellow bereaved, nearly all of them more eloquent in their grief than I could be in mine, despite their never having personally known the guy.

These folks never had the delight of engaging him in mind-play, where he was as light and agile as a child Baryshnikov on springs, perfectly capable of juggling concepts taken evenly from Kirkegaard, Coltrane, and comic books into the same sentence or three. They never experienced the great skeptical arch of his eyebrow, never benefited from his uncanny talent for popping the self-inflated, even while extending to those thus reduced his most enthusiastic support for their real talents and virtues. They never heard him exclaim in delight, “That’s a fat trip!” when he himself was the fattest trip there was. They never heard his acerbic cackle. Never watched close up the cycles of his wild internal weather, rolling in and out, blackness and radiance, winter and spring, until finally spring promised, then failed to return, as we all know would happen someday.

They hadn’t lost these personal things like the rest of us here inside the Village of the Dead, and yet they mourned their loss far more movingly than I have been able to do.

Of course, in some dimensions, we have all lost the same things. We have all lost the glistening, piercing soar of those notes he played, dancing like electricity over the dense sonic jungle arising from his fellow Dead. We’ve all lost the redeeming sorrow in his straining wail, the brief but bottomless silence between his notes.

We’ve all lost the Grateful Dead

Something may or may not assemble itself out of these perfectly great spare parts he leaves. The living Dead might play again. If they do, they may even have the ability to invoke the Holy Who-Knows which sometimes was there in the space between the Deadheads and ”The Boyz.” Hell, it might be as good, whatever that means. It might even be better. But it won’t be the Grateful Dead.

Losing the Dead is terribly hard. The Grateful Dead have been my tribe for 30 years. Their religion, where the only dogma was music, was my religion. They’ve been the only thing that was always there. Through many other beginnings and ends, and many other deaths, the trip just got longer and stranger. Now we don’t know what is coming. It’ll be a trip, undoubtedly strange, possibly long, but it won’t be that trip.

Even having lost all this, I can’t seem to feel it properly or weep over it like I want to, or find the right thing to say. And it’s not like I don’t have practice. Seems like I’ve been practicing for this event a long time, eulogizing Pigpen, Keith, Brent – whose absence still tears at me hard – and a lot of others, inside and out of this dangerous place with death in its very name. It’s not at all like me to say nothing at the funeral of someone I loved. Or remain silent later.

Somebody asked me, in an interview right before he died, what it was like to know Jerry Garcia. The question hit me strange. I thought about all the ways in which he and his various manifestations had woven themselves into my life over the last 30 years, and I said, “God, I can’t imagine what it would be like not to know Jerry Garcia.” Now I’m there. I should be able to imagine it easily now that it’s real, but I still can’t. It’s too big. I can’t wrap my mind around it. Or my heart.

In a way, it feels as if my inability to mourn him as I have others is appropriate. Jerry would not want to be mourned. He hated the fuss he generated in life. He would have been appalled by the fuss made over his death. He kept his emotions for his music.

But still, I miss him. I miss him in the ways it will take me years to figure out.

-John Perry Barlow

This passage is an excerpt from GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, originally published in 1995 byDupree’s Diamond News. To learn more about Dupree’s Diamond News or how to obtain a copy of GARCIA – A Grateful Celebration, click here.

And now we can begin to celebrate the music in this Jerry Garcia Sampler. Enjoy and see you tomorrow!

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