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Seeing America in the Grateful Dead’s Music
February saw a new record set for records — the record for the most albums to chart in Billboard’s top 200 — which had formerly been held jointly by Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. It was set by a band who never had a single get higher than #9 on Billboard’s list‚ a band which made more releases and sold more recordings after disbanding in 1995 than during their just over thirty years playing together‚ a band whose recordings always took second place to their live shows — the Grateful Dead.
Full confession: I’m a long-time fan. I heard about these guys as a tenth grader. One of the cool guys had a copy of the March 1967 issue of Ramparts‚ a New Left magazine‚ that featured the Haight Ashbury scene and its bands. My teenage attention was caught by the guy named after the eternally dirty boy in Peanuts‚ Pig Pen‚ and the name of his band was Grateful Dead. Later that summer‚ when I saw their first album on the little record display at the local drug store where I walked with my grandfather‚ and my grandfather offered to buy me a treat — I got that album. (READ MORE from Shmuel Klatzkin: Mr. Biden‚ Why Do You Hide Your True Self?)
I began to listen in those years to the great tradition of American improvisatory music from my school’s record collection‚ hearing the jazzmen Charles Lloyd and the legendary John Coltrane‚ and then hearing Eric Clapton with Cream. When I found the long improvisation on the flip side of the Grateful Dead’s album and then on their wildly exploratory second album. I was primed and ready for their live shows.
That became the center of my life. In college‚ I got to jam endlessly with some really fine musicians including my roommate George Kahn‚ a fixture of the LA jazz scene today‚ and also with a musician who played and recorded with the Dead and who had some business at my university‚ who joined our jamming.
It’s Americana in so many ways‚ not the least interesting being their original libertarian business model which proved‚ after a slow‚ slow start to be a great success. Yes‚ there was the hippie thing‚ remembered mostly in a distorted way over the years. But so much of that was evanescent. The substance in the Haight was the original music of the bands‚ the fluid art of the lightshows‚ and the amazing work of a crew of astonishingly original artists who earned most of their bread by drawing posters for the bands’ concerts and home-grown serial comic books such as Zap.
It was also interesting in terms of human consciousness. The scene remains identified with psychedelic drugs‚ and that led directly to those drugs being outlawed — with draconian penalties‚ to boot‚ classified as more dangerous than heroin and cocaine. But a history of the scene revealed that even in its heyday‚ Ken Kesey held an event called the Acid Test Graduation‚ dedicated to the idea that one doesn’t need to keep going through that same doorway again and again.
And here it gets personal. That same Ken Kesey‚ the master Prankster‚ wrote an article entitled “The Bible” which got me to turn towards that great Book. That led to me finding my vocation‚ embarking on a lifetime of study of Scripture and all the great wealth of literature of Israel’s tradition.
So there is an actual continuity with my devotion to my faith and the great ideas it has shared — including the majestic idea of constitutionalism that has so transformed the West and the world. Much more could be said about this‚ and should be‚ but here in this article‚ I will focus on one small but crucial aspect of how the living responsiveness of improvisatory music is connected to something vital in our lives. (READ MORE: The Transformation of Politics Into Religious Wars)
Let me make an unusual connection. On the way to the Teheran conference during World War II‚ Churchill and Roosevelt stopped at Cairo‚ where they met with Chiang Kai-shek. There‚ FDR hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for the American and British parties. The president offered a toast to American and British unity‚ describing America and Britain as “a large family.” Robert Hopkins‚ son of Harry Hopkins‚ FDR’s closest aide‚ was in attendance and described Churchill’s response.
He started slowly. His sentence used a very unusual construction. He stopped. He seemed lost. There was a long pause. He can’t get out of this‚ I thought. He’s an old man‚ his faculties are failing. Then suddenly‚ he picked out a word so perfect‚ so brilliant‚ that everyone broke into spontaneous applause. It was a tour de force.
To quote the title of a Grateful Dead album‚ Churchill was doing his thing without a net. The applause and the light came from his commitment to that unique moment with those unique people who were there‚ and his willingness to lay himself full out for their sake. Hopkins and the others there felt the reality of the chaos that lurks behind all of creation‚ that things do come apart‚ that we may not make it through some moment‚ that all we have is borrowed only and we can lose. And the delight of the people was shared — Churchill’s willingness to be there on the edge for them communicated to them all. When he triumphed‚ they all triumphed with him.
There is something here uniquely American‚ impossible to get off the ground other than in a country that values freedom as we do.
Churchill‚ of course‚ was a master of parliamentary debate‚ where one must be quick on one’s feet and prepared remarks cannot save you when confronted on the floor of the Commons at Question Time. And although Churchill’s many speeches‚ and his most famous ones‚ were carefully composed‚ he knew how to bring to a composed speech the electricity of the spontaneous — the opposite of most of our politicians‚ as even their spontaneous remarks have the sour taste of the teleprompter about them.
When one plays without a net‚ as the Dead did so well‚ the music and the words must be fully internalized. This has roots: Your teaching is in my inmost parts‚ sings King David in Psalm 40‚ though the Hebrew is rawer — literally‚ in my guts. What really connects is not a memorized idea‚ following a written sheet‚ as good as that may be. It is rather when the idea‚ when the words‚ when the music is one with who we are. Or‚ to use the words of one of the band’s lyricists‚ when “the music plays the band.” We become what we say‚ what we play — we are entirely present in what we present. And “as a face reflected back in water‚ so is one person’s heart to another’s” — we all are drawn to be present in the act of creation as it is in us‚ and as we model it to others‚ who join with us in full assent. Deep calls unto deep‚ as King David says. And the Jewish tradition affirms an Oral Torah‚ something that can never be completely written down‚ which carries forward not only the biblical text but the love for it‚ for God‚ and for God’s creation. When it is on our hearts‚ we are one with it and it speaks through us. It cannot be just words on paper‚ but our lives themselves must become the book.
After a few years in the late 60s in which they developed their jamming through constant extended improvisations‚ they turned at the beginning of the 70s into crafting songs. Led by the incomparable team of Jerry Garcia and lyricist Robert Hunter‚ they turned out song after original song‚ and became storytellers‚ as minstrel and bards have been through the generations. Like Churchill’s set speeches‚ they were informed by the spontaneity in which they had immersed themselves‚ while at the same time‚ they were joined to all the traditions of songwriting and music from which this most eclectic group of artists had drawn nourishment and inspiration. (READ MORE: The American People Know the Real Hamas)
Underneath it all lay a religious depth‚ strange as that may seem. The bassist‚ classically trained and who has been a guest conductor‚ used to say that he looked on the places where they played as his church. Hunter’s lyrics touched deep places in the soul‚ and sometimes his message was explicit: Little wheel turn by the fire and rod/ Big wheel turn by the hand of God/ Every time that wheel go round/ Got to cover just a little more ground … Won’t you try just a little bit harder/Won’t you try just a little bit more? Guitarist Bob Weir followed his teenage musical inspiration‚ Jorma Kaukonen‚ into the music of the black street preacher‚ the Reverend Gary Davis‚ and he would be the preacher himself singing Davis’ Samson and Delilah. And memorably‚ the band took a great rock and roll song written by Buddy Holly‚ Not Fade Away‚ and got their audiences to sing its refrain a cappella: “You know our love will not fade away.” It would sound like a great congregation at prayer.
Music touches us all‚ even if our tastes differ. Nearly thirty years after this band disbanded‚ it is still touching people enough that a seven-record set rose into the top 200 and broke a long-standing record. If you’ve never had the pleasure‚ it might be a good time to dip into their music‚ widely available on YouTube and many other places on the Net to sample — even main courses. They played in so many modes‚ from rock and roll to country to blues to folk to Cajun to old English sea songs to jazz to experimental electronic music. Listen around.
There is something here uniquely American‚ impossible to get off the ground other than in a country that values freedom as we do. How do we get people on board without using force? How do we model high achievement that draws people to it willingly and devotedly?
Under everything is music‚ whether the beautiful cadences of Churchill’s English‚ or the pure music that sets our feet dancing and looses our lips in song. We’ve chosen that kind of persuasion‚ confident that if we go deep enough within‚ walk out on the tight rope without a net‚ we will touch that in others. Or‚ as Hunter put it: Red and white/ Blue suede shoes/ I’m Uncle Sam/ How do you do! Or in another song‚ G-ddamn well I declare/ Have you seen their like?/ Their walls are made of cannon balls/ Their motto is Don’t tread on me.
When we have been drawn to the real thing‚ we react to those who preach tyranny like the coiled snake on the colonists’ flag.
Mark their record by taking a listen or a look. Give a chance to truth of Hunter’s lyric: Once in a while you get shown the light/In the strangest of places if you look at it right.
May we ever cherish the freedom to do so.
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