Twenty-five years ago today -- half my lifetime -- I was driving from
Pittsburgh to Raleigh to see the second of four Dead shows I would catch
that summer. Ironically, this would be my first visit to Raleigh, where I
now live.
Prior to the first night, I had met a college buddy, Josh, at a West
Virginia state park for camping, then proceeded to Three Rivers Stadium
the next day to meet some more friends who had driven out from Chicago. In
those primitive, pre-cell-phone days, our plan for meeting up involved
them calling my job on a 1-800 number, asking for my extension, and
leaving a message on my voice mail. I could then dial in toll-free and
pick up my messages. High-tech, baby. Somehow this worked, and we managed
to meet up with our friends literally as they were leaving the meeting
spot to head into the stadium.
The next day, Josh drove back to Washington to go to work, our other
friends drove back to Chicago, and I drove on to Raleigh with a kid named
Paul I had met at our campground, who needed a ride (his friends were
skipping the Raleigh show).
In Raleigh, I met up with some other friends, saw the show, drove with
Paul to Washington see another show at RFK Stadium, then headed back to
Boston on my own to catch the Foxboro show (7-14-90) with another bunch of
friends.
Flash forward to 2015, four nights ago. It's setbreak at the last Fare
Thee Well show and I'm hanging out outside the "United Club" inside
Soldier Field, waiting to meet up with one of my best friends from
college, whom I haven't seen in person in 30 years. While I'm waiting, I
strike up a conversation with a random head who sat down next to me.
Everybody's been having a blast. Everybody I've talked to has agreed that
the shows have far exceeded expectations. At one point I said "You know
what this means, right? This means we're officially nostalgic for the
stadium summer tours of the 90s".
And like Royal Tenenbaum, immediately after making this statement, I
realized that it was true.
I always used to complain about stadium shows, and, indeed, after that
epic summer tour of 1990, I only ever went to see the Dead one more time
in a stadium (prior to this summer). But thinking about it now, I realize
that I saw a lot more stadium shows than I realized (eight total in six
years) and that I enjoyed most of them immensely. One of them was my first
transcendent Grateful Dead experience (7-4-86 in Buffalo, on the strength
of the first half of the second set, and, boy, I spent years tracking down
a good tape of that show) and one of them was the best GD show I ever saw
(7-12-90 in Washington).
But even aside from the music, there was something amazing about the
experience of seeing the Dead outdoors with 50,000+ other fans on a summer
afternoon and evening. Of course, it was better to do so in a venue less
oppressive than a football stadium (e.g. Oxford Plains Speedway), but
living in the northeast, in the late 80s/early 90s, outdoor summer shows
generally meant stadiums. And even standing on a spongy plastic mat
covering the turf at Foxboro Stadium, when the band launched into "Uncle
John's Band" or "Eyes of the World", your physical location no longer
mattered, and it was possible to feel a connection to such epochal shows
from the past as Elizabethtown '77 or Veneta '72.
That said, there were plenty of good reasons for skipping the stadium
tours of the 90s as well. I think all of us remember how the scene started
to go south in the 90s, as the Dead's reputation grew, and the number of
people who showed up to each show multiplied. There had always been people
who showed up without tickets, but in the past, I think, a lot of them
would wind up getting into the shows if they wanted to, and even if they
didn't, their total numbers were relatively small. By the 90s, the lot
scene was starting to overwhelm the concert scene, and to overwhelm the
cities who played host to the Dead. The band became personae non grata in
a lot of the cities they had played for years (Providence, Worcester,
Hartford, etc.) and the size of the unruly crowds made it hard for the
authorities in the cities where they still played to turn a blind eye to
the parking lot shenanigans.
By 94 and 95, the scene had gotten pretty awful, with gate-crashers and
hangers-on galore, and to make things worse (much worse) Jerry was using
heroin again to a degree that hadn't been seen since the mid-80s. He
looked physically decrepit, and musically, he was often unable to remember
the words or chords to his own compositions that he'd been performing for
close to twenty years.
In the vernacular, it was a serious buzzkill.
Which is not to say that it still wasn't fun to be there, in the crowd,
hanging out with all the groovy heads again. But musically, it just wasn't
happening.
And that's part of what made these Fare Thee Well shows so amazing, and so
satisfying. As I sat outside the United Club on Sunday, chatting with my
newest friend, we both agreed that these shows were providing that
overused concept of "closure". But it wasn't just closure on the whole
"Grateful Dead scene", it was musical closure as well.
Because anybody who saw the Dead in their last couple years of Garcia's
life saw a band that had already fallen off significantly (IMO) from their
late-period peak of only a few years earlier (ca. 1989-1991). I always
said that the most effective anti-drug program in schools would be to show
a video of Jerry from 1990, followed by one from 1995. Scare those fucking
kids straight.
When Jerry died in 1995, I was sad, but quite frankly, I wasn't
particularly surprised, given his physical state. I didn't feel like I had
lost a huge part of my life because for me, the magic had already died.
In Chicago, the boys brought the magic back. Far more than at any time
since. For all the great shows I've seen in the last twenty years, by The
Other Ones, The Dead, Phil & Friends and Ratdog, this was the first time I
felt truly transported by something larger than life since the fall of
1991 (when my mother, at the Boston Garden for the final show of that epic
run, described the Dead's music as Wagnerian).
In addition to the scene, in addition to the communal feeling of 70,000
heads grooving at once, the Fare Thee Well shows delivered the best
Grateful Dead music I've heard since Jerry died. That was the true closure
that they delivered. Because unfortunately, Jerry didn't go out with a
bang, but with a whimper, a mere shadow of the cosmic heights he had been
scaling just a few years earlier (heights that had seemed inconceivable
just a few years before *that*). Last weekend, what's left of the Grateful
Dead finally closed the parenthesis, finished the "Playing in the Band"
(metaphorically speaking, since they actually left us hanging on that
one), and delivered one more intense dose (or three, depending on how you
count it) of Grateful Dead musical magic that we'd been missing for a long
time.
And I have to give 100% of the credit for that to Trey Anastasio, and
honestly, I can't think of a single musician alive today who could have
filled that role better than he did. I'm not even much of a Phish fan -- I
used to listen to their "A Live One" album a lot, but I only ever saw them
three or four times in the 90s -- but that man has talent and creativity
to burn, and more importantly (since the members of the Dead have played
with dozens of talented and creative musicians over the last 20 years), he
knows how to improvise in an open-ended rock context, and he knows how to
lead a group improvisation.
Phish is conceptually (not musically) a carbon-copy of the Grateful Dead.
Their whole approach is based on the approach that the Dead pioneered (but
using their own formative musical influences and their own musical
voices). And for all their talent, guys like Jimmy Herring or Warren
Haynes or even John Scofield (who may be the greatest electric guitarist
alive) don't have the instinctive ability to lead a rock ensemble like
this that comes from 30+ years of experience.
They got the right guys for the job (got to give credit to Hornsby and
Chimenti as well), and they didn't try to do anything more than they
needed to. Which is to say, no special guests (who would have just killed
the momentum -- these guys obviously had enough trouble just getting their
act together among the seven of them), no opening bands, no sax players
(sorry, Dave Ellis), no gimmicks, just two great sets of Grateful Dead
music every night, with one brilliant guitarist leading the way.
We may wish that they were doing more shows, but leaving aside the
question of whether Phil, Trey and Bruce would have even been willing to
do so, I have to think that the results would not have been so magic if
they had tried to spread this out over ten or twenty shows instead of
five.
For one thing, it made the scene more magical, because there was only one
"event" (plus the warmup shows). Instead of being spread out across the
country, everyone who wanted to see the Dead came to either Santa Clara or
Chicago. There was no temptation to wait until "next tour" (as I foolishly
did when declining to see the Jerry Garcia Band in 1993).
And musically, having it all over and done with over the course of nine
days and five shows meant that the band left nothing on the shelf. They
gave everything they had in Chicago without worrying about saving anything
for the next city.
The highlights of the shows were too numerous to list, but I do feel
obliged to point out that "Standing on the Moon" and "Stella Blue" were
absolutely devastating the second night. For the former, the number of
wars that our nation has fought since Jerry last sang that song gave it a
whole new depth, and Trey's delivery was perfect. For the latter, well,
it's "Stella Blue". One of the most emotional songs Hunter ever wrote,
given a heartfelt performance by Weir and another stunning musical
performance by Trey.
Weir's vocals were surprisingly strong all weekend. Phil didn't insist on
singing too many songs and did a decent job on most of them. Trey
delivered the goods on guitar and vocals, again and again, and Bruce did a
great job as well, once they gave him a little space.
In terms of setlists, while there are certainly nits to be picked (Built
to Last? Really?), the selection was excellent overall, with many songs
that seemed to reference the end of their career, even though they had
been written 40-50 years earlier. Other than the obvious ones like Music
Never Stopped and Box of Rain, I found a lot of lyrical resonance in Crazy
Fingers, Mason's Children, Bird Song, Cassidy and many more.
For a band that seemed to make a habit out of shooting themselves in the
foot, the Grateful Dead really got it together and delivered an amazingly
satisfying coda to a legendary career. These shows were better than anyone
could have expected (a refrain I heard over and over again over the course
of the weekend), and even more spectacular for the fact that nine months
ago, nobody could have even imagined them happening at all.
While it might be nice, in an ideal world, to imagine this band going on
tour in the fall, it's hard to imagine them capturing the same lightning
in a bottle night after night like they did in Chicago. In the real world,
I can't imagine a better way to cap off the Grateful Dead's career, and
I'm glad that I got the chance to go. I met old college friends that I
hadn't seen in decades, old internet friends that I'd never met in real
life, and new friends that I'd never met before. And for one more glorious
summer weekend, everything was Just Exactly Perfect.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Friday, August 15, 2008
MUSIC: Return of a Lost Reggae Classic
LIFE OF CONTRADICTION
Joe Higgs
Pressure Sounds PSCD 58
With the re-issue of this 1975 masterpiece, the Pressure Sounds label has given a new lease on life to an almost-forgotten reggae classic. The only previous CD release – on the notorious pirate label Lagoon – was noted by fans for its poor sound quality, re-ordered tracklist and the addition of several unrelated tracks (and their dubs) as filler. Prior to that, the album was only available as a long out-of-print LP on the obscure Micron (Jamaica) and Grounation (UK) labels.
The liner notes for this new release explain the circumstances behind its original release, and how it slipped through the cracks to languish in obscurity ever since. The album was originally commissioned by Chris Blackwell for Island Records, at around the time of Bob Marley & the Wailers’ first releases for that label. But Higgs –- a seminal figure in Jamaican music, who had taught singing to the youth of Trench Town (including a young Bob Marley) and had hits in the ska era -- lacked the exotic, dreadlocked, ganja-smoking image of the Wailers. Blackwell thought of him as a "Jamaican folksinger", and at a time when reggae, as a genre, hadn’t yet established itself among rock fans, Blackwell didn’t feel that he had a “hook” to market this thoughtful, subtle album. By the time Higgs got it released himself – three years later – the musical trends in reggae had changed to such a degree that Life of Contradiction sounded positively archaic, lacking any trace of the “rockers” or “flying cymbals” styles that were all the rage in 1975.
Today, ironically, the album has aged much better than most of its contemporaries. In a musical genre which has always valued trends over originality, Life of Contradiction stands out as one of the most distinctive and original reggae albums ever made. From the opening seconds of the album – a series of eerie, descending triplets that resolve into an obscure Horace Silver song (“Come on Home”) – it’s obvious that this is not your typical reggae release. By 1975, the practice of “versioning” popular rhythms –- i.e., recording multiple vocal numbers over each hot rhythm track -– had become widespread, but Higgs’ harmonically-sophisticated compositions and subtle arrangements are more reminiscent of the rocksteady era of the mid-60s, when most of the musicians in Jamaica still had a working knowledge of jazz and show tunes.
Higgs never allows himself to slide into the easy two- and three-chord vamps that most reggae artists favor. The songs are fully-composed, with distinct intros, verses and choruses, and meticulously arranged, with the embellishments of jazz guitarist Eric Gale as the final, distinctive touch. The most impressive songs are "Come on Home", "There's a Reward", "Song My Enemy Sings" and the title track, but the truth is, there isn't a weak song in the bunch. Like many reggae singers, Higgs sings of love and social justice, but like his music, his lyrics are subtle and complex in a way that's all too rare.
In short, this is an album that belongs in the collection of any reggae fan. For serious fans, this is a no-brainer, but even casual reggae fans should give this timeless wonder a spin.
Joe Higgs
Pressure Sounds PSCD 58
With the re-issue of this 1975 masterpiece, the Pressure Sounds label has given a new lease on life to an almost-forgotten reggae classic. The only previous CD release – on the notorious pirate label Lagoon – was noted by fans for its poor sound quality, re-ordered tracklist and the addition of several unrelated tracks (and their dubs) as filler. Prior to that, the album was only available as a long out-of-print LP on the obscure Micron (Jamaica) and Grounation (UK) labels.
The liner notes for this new release explain the circumstances behind its original release, and how it slipped through the cracks to languish in obscurity ever since. The album was originally commissioned by Chris Blackwell for Island Records, at around the time of Bob Marley & the Wailers’ first releases for that label. But Higgs –- a seminal figure in Jamaican music, who had taught singing to the youth of Trench Town (including a young Bob Marley) and had hits in the ska era -- lacked the exotic, dreadlocked, ganja-smoking image of the Wailers. Blackwell thought of him as a "Jamaican folksinger", and at a time when reggae, as a genre, hadn’t yet established itself among rock fans, Blackwell didn’t feel that he had a “hook” to market this thoughtful, subtle album. By the time Higgs got it released himself – three years later – the musical trends in reggae had changed to such a degree that Life of Contradiction sounded positively archaic, lacking any trace of the “rockers” or “flying cymbals” styles that were all the rage in 1975.
Today, ironically, the album has aged much better than most of its contemporaries. In a musical genre which has always valued trends over originality, Life of Contradiction stands out as one of the most distinctive and original reggae albums ever made. From the opening seconds of the album – a series of eerie, descending triplets that resolve into an obscure Horace Silver song (“Come on Home”) – it’s obvious that this is not your typical reggae release. By 1975, the practice of “versioning” popular rhythms –- i.e., recording multiple vocal numbers over each hot rhythm track -– had become widespread, but Higgs’ harmonically-sophisticated compositions and subtle arrangements are more reminiscent of the rocksteady era of the mid-60s, when most of the musicians in Jamaica still had a working knowledge of jazz and show tunes.
Higgs never allows himself to slide into the easy two- and three-chord vamps that most reggae artists favor. The songs are fully-composed, with distinct intros, verses and choruses, and meticulously arranged, with the embellishments of jazz guitarist Eric Gale as the final, distinctive touch. The most impressive songs are "Come on Home", "There's a Reward", "Song My Enemy Sings" and the title track, but the truth is, there isn't a weak song in the bunch. Like many reggae singers, Higgs sings of love and social justice, but like his music, his lyrics are subtle and complex in a way that's all too rare.
In short, this is an album that belongs in the collection of any reggae fan. For serious fans, this is a no-brainer, but even casual reggae fans should give this timeless wonder a spin.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
MUSIC FLASHBACK: A Rainy Weekend with The Dead at Jones Beach
About four years, I went with some friends to see "The Dead" (the surviving members of the Grateful Dead) at Jones Beach on Long Island. We didn't know it at the time, but this turned out to be the final (to date) joint tour of the surviving Grateful Dead members, who had toured together sporadically since 1998, and more regularly from 2002-2004.
In general, each tour was an improvement on the previous one. While a lot of people undoubtedly wrote them off as pure nostalgia -- after all, nostalgia has been one of the primary driving forces in the American music industry for the last 10-15 years -- the former members of the Grateful Dead were always talented and creative enough to keep the concerts fresh, even for a lot of jaded Deadheads who had no interest in copycats like the Dark Star Orchestra or the boring majority of one-riff "jam" bands.
Still, the constant shuffling of band members should have been an indication that things wouldn't last long, and as of the summer of 2008, the gap between "formerly the Grateful Dead" tours has been the longest since Jerry Garcia died in 1995. In retrospect, a lot of the appeal of each individual tour had as much to do with potential as with the actual music played; in other words, there was always a feeling of "if they're this good now, think how good they'll be after a few tours!"
Unfortunately, those few tours (with any constant lineup) never materialized, and we fans have been left with a few happy memories as the legacy of "The Dead" (and "The Other Ones", as they were known from 1998-2002) rather than any particularly significant body of musical work.
This is a revised version of a review that I wrote at the time.
The Dead
Jones Beach Amphitheater, Wantagh, NY
August 13 & 14, 2004
We got back Sunday from a weekend trip to Jones Beach to see the latest incarnation of "The Dead". All in all a great time was had by all and it was very much "worth the trip". While overcast all weekend, the rain didn't start in earnest until the second set of the second show.
First off, some words of praise for the venue. This is the second trip I've made to Jones Beach to see The Dead, and this is now one of my favorite "big" venues in the Northeast. There are a few small minuses -- the venue has no roof, so you might get wet, and there are no beer sales -- but they're far outweighed by the plusses (which include no obnoxious drunks and great sound because there's no roof).
Plus, well, it's just NEW YORK. As Phil Lesh memorably said at the end of the first concert, "We just can't get up here and play the same old stuff for you guys". Even sober, a New York crowd is a high-energy crowd, and any performer is going to get off on that. For the Dead, a loud, boisterous crowd can be pure gold, as evidenced by the large number of official live recordings they've chosen to release from the New York area.
This weekend, they were clearly the best post-Jerry Dead-related band I've seen. I was originally skeptical that they were once again messing with the lineup, losing keyboardist Rob Barraco and vocalist Joan Osbourne at the beginning of the year, and adding singer/guitarist Warren Haynes to the band; even though Warren is a great musician, I was more concerned that the frequently-shifting lineup might not gel easily.
I shouldn't have been worried. Barraco was always merely competent, as a keyboardist and a vocalist, with none of the rhythmic or harmonic sophistication that Jeff Chimenti brings to the band. And Warren Haynes is a (no pun intended) huge addition to the band, in terms of his playing and his vocals.
It probably helped that the Jones Beach shows came at the end of almost two months of touring (with a short break in the middle). This is also the third year in a row that the four original Dead members have toured... the most touring they've done since Jerry died. They're definitely comfortable with who they are now (and who they aren't) and are getting better with every tour at playing to their strengths (although that's still not foolproof -- they wouldn't be "The Dead" if it was! -- and Bob Weir's singing voice seems to be deteriorating at an alarming rate).
While the GD were notorious for almost never rehearsing, this band has taken obvious and infectious delight at digging out some of their most obscure and complex numbers. The baroque creations of the late 60s ("St. Stephen", "The Eleven", "Born Cross-Eyed", etc) and the pseudo-fusion of the mid-70s ("Slipknot", "Unbroken Chain", etc.) were often beyond the reach of the latter-day Grateful Dead, and Garcia admitted as much in a late-80s interview in The Golden Road fanzine where he said it was too much trouble for them to re-learn and rehearse complex songs like "St. Stephen".
Watching the new band, it's sadly obvious where the weak link was in that regard. In terms of tightness and technical virtuosity, this band is so much better than the old Grateful Dead that at times it's literally awe-inspiring. Not just because of the high-quality sidemen they've brought into the group, but because of how much better the GD guys play when they don't have to worry about the bandleader dropping beats or missing the changes. They're fearless when it comes to re-visiting 'difficult' songs from their back catalog, and the results often reveal musical gold that was sometimes obscured by sloppy performances in the past.
But the Grateful Dead were never about technical virtuosity or note-perfect renditions. The GD were about magic, and the other thing that's obvious about all of the post-GD groups (starting with 1998's Other Ones) is the almost inevitable lack of that magic. The Grateful Dead always gave a lot of lip-service to the idea that they were a "collective" with no real leader (yeah, so was the Soviet Union!), and some of us even bought it, for a while. After all, the difference in sound between the Grateful Dead and Jerry's solo "bar band" was immense, and there's no question that every member of the GD contributed far more than mere "accompaniment" on any given night.
But they had a leader, make no mistake, and almost every aspect of their music was based around responding (one way or another) to his ideas (early on, of course, they had two leaders, Jerry and Pigpen, but Jerry was always the primary instrumentalist). Jerry was almost always the one with the final decision where the music was going to go at any given moment, and the band basically lived or died by his level of inspiration on any given night.
Since Jerry died, they've never managed to find someone who could really fill his shoes in terms of shaping the band's sound. The first couple of Other Ones tours featured two guitarists and a sax player in the "solo" slot and suffered from the inevitable "whose turn is it now?" syndrome that resulted. In 2002 they returned with only two guitars, Bob Weir and Jimmy Herring. It was an exciting time to see the band -- certainly more exciting than I really expected any "Other Ones" show to be at that point -- and the band was playing better together than they had in a long time.
But over the next year or so, Herring never succeeded in stepping into Jerry's shoes. Nobody expected him to become a note-for-note Jerry clone, but there was always something missing. He rarely seemed to move beyond being a sideman. He's a technical wizard (of the John McLaughlin/Steve Morse school), and his solos were never less than tasteful and well-constructed, but he just never seemed like he was about to cut loose and lead the band on a bat-out-of-hell musical voyage across the cosmos. And really, what do you want to see at a Dead show? Tastefully succinct melodies, or musical voyages cross the cosmos? Thought so.
So this year, along comes Warren Haynes. In bassist Phil Lesh's band, Warren was usually the one who DID lead the band on long, melodic flights of fancy. Stylistically, he's a perfect match for The Dead, with a killer melodic sense, strong vocals and a huge, varied repertoire (he even sang a Metallica song with The Dead the first night).
Vocally, Warren is a killer, and they have wisely let/asked him to sing a lot, sometimes including songs that the others had "covered" in the past (e.g. "Terrapin"). He's expressive enough that he can take someone else's signature tune (e.g. "Into the Mystic", sung with The Dead or "Alison", sung solo the second night) and render it in his own voice. His presence frees Phil from any heavy vocal duties, but, curiously, the band chose to do mostly Weir (and Mickey Hart) vocals on Saturday, after a very Warren-heavy show the night before. As I mentioned earlier, Weir's voice sounded pretty bad, and while his new speak/sing style can work to good effect (in terms of differentiating his performances from Jerry's), it can really reveal his limitations as well.
So now The Dead have this strong vocalist, who's also a killer guitarist, and the inevitable question is, "Do they need three guitarists"? Three guitars is usually too much for ANY band, unless they're the Gipsy Kings, and Jimmy seemed the odd man out during much of Friday's first set. But Friday's second set played heavily to his strong points. He covered all the fast "fiddly bits" in "Slipknot" and "Unbroken Chain", and he continues to excel at soloing in that fusiony style the Dead were playing with in the mid-70s.
In fact, my opinion of Jimmy Herring's playing has continued to improve almost every time I've seen him. Each night at Jones Beach, he did a "space" segment, accompanied only by Mickey Hart on Beam, that was almost Frippian in its dissonant beauty. His soloing dominated the second night's show, and there was much less of the pointless "woodly-woodly" playing that he sometimes fell back on during previous Dead/Other Ones tours.
But in the end, although each guitarist played exceptionally well throughout the weekend, I still came away thinking that three guitars is too much (unless you're the League of Crafty Guitarists). There were times when Warren took the lead and times when Jimmy took the lead, but at each point, the other one was largely superfluous due to the presence of Weir (plus, the band still suffers from occasional touches of "whose turn is it now?"). In Phil's band, Jimmy and Warren always provide great rhythm support for each other, but in The Dead, there's always one guitarist too many.
If I had to pick, I'd say that Warren is more suited to The Dead. Whether he wants to be a full-time member is an entirely different question -- it would probably be pretty creepy after starting his career in the "majors" filling in for Duane Allman -- but even aside from his vocals, Warren's musical personality is much more suited to The Dead. Jimmy seems to be a soloist from the Armstrong/Parker tradition: say what you've got to say and shut up. Warren is much more interested in spinning extended melodic flights, a la Rollins or Coltrane, but more importantly, Warren is a leader. As technically proficient and stunning a player as Jimmy is, he still plays like an accompanist when he's in The Dead. He never seems ready to "take the bull by the horns" and drag the band hither and yon according to his whim.
With Warren Haynes, the post-Jerry band has, for the first time, a leader who's willing and able to step into that position (Bruce Hornsby was certainly able, and probably willing, during the original Other Ones tours, but I don't think he really got the leeway he needed to mold the band in his image). That's a position that I just don't every see Jimmy Herring stepping into, after seeing him play with The Dead for three years in a row now.
Even if Warren doesn't want to continue with the band after this year, I can only hope that they learn from the experience and find someone with a strong enough musical personality (and fearlessness) to take charge. Because all the tasteful, brilliant, technically flawless accompaniment in the world isn't going to make up for the fact that, until now, The Dead have been Four Sidemen In Search of a Leader. Unfortunately, the fact that Warren was the sideman for most of Saturday's show makes me wonder whether the four GD guys have realized this.
As for Jimmy Herring, as well as he played, and as much as my opinion of him has improved, he still seems like a (chuckle) fish (sorry) out of water when playing with the Dead. This guy should be back playing with Billy Cobham and Alphonso Johnson -- playing real fusion, not Dead covers.
Overall, though, there's no question that this was a great weekend of music. The band was jamming hard the first night, with each song following the previous one like a runaway train. The setlist itself can't capture the feeling, as each song featured top-quality jamming within it, which made each new song transition that much more of a pleasant surprise as they piled classic jamming tune upon classic jamming tune ("What do they have left for tomorrow?" was a commonly-heard question after the first show). Things were definitely chaotic and often out-of-control but this show was the closest to real, on-the-edge "we can do no wrong" playing I've heard from The Dead in a long time (fittingly, it also featured its share of "classic" Dead flubs -- "we can do no wrong" is always a fleeting illusion, after all! -- including a total train wreck at the end of "Shakedown Street" and an impressive double-reverse train wreck with a half gainer that led back into "Slipknot/Franklin's Tower" at the end of the set). As incongruous as it might seem, Warren's Metallica cover ("Nothing Else Matters") fit in perfectly well between "Shakedown" and "Cryptical Envelopment".
Saturday night was much more of a controlled, rocking show (especially the first set, which was very up-tempo) featuring big hits ("Truckin'", "Iko Iko") and obscure rockers ("Golden Road", "Mason's Children"). The second set got off to a ripping start with a massive "Terrapin" before a rocking "Dancing in the Streets" (which was, unfortunately, marred by truly horrible vocals from Weir; they should transpose this song to a different key for him). The title of "Only The Strange Remain" used to be a self-fulfilling prophecy for the Other Ones as many treated it as an excuse for a bathroom break, but the version from Saturday night was so heavy it verged on "Victim or the Crime" territory.
It was raining pretty steadily by the end of drums/space, though, and unfortunately, Weir chose to bring the energy level down with a Jerry ballad ("Standing on the Moon"). His slightly-faster arrangement was well-done, but the song really took a lot of the energy out of the set. "China Cat - Rider" followed, but while the previous night's jams had been chaotic and inspired, this one just seemed chaotic (or maybe I was just too tired by then). "Turn on Your Love Light" ended the show on an uptempo note with ripping solos from everyone, before a "One More Saturday Night"/"Ripple" encore that was, unfortunately, compromised once again by Weir's vocals. Here's hoping he gets some rest before the Ratdog tour.
There's a couple more shows left in this tour, and then who knows what they'll be up to in the fall and winter. If you don't like the New Dead, you know it, and this version of the band probably won't change your mind. If you've been on the fence, though, you should really check them out this time around. And who knows what next year will have in store?
In general, each tour was an improvement on the previous one. While a lot of people undoubtedly wrote them off as pure nostalgia -- after all, nostalgia has been one of the primary driving forces in the American music industry for the last 10-15 years -- the former members of the Grateful Dead were always talented and creative enough to keep the concerts fresh, even for a lot of jaded Deadheads who had no interest in copycats like the Dark Star Orchestra or the boring majority of one-riff "jam" bands.
Still, the constant shuffling of band members should have been an indication that things wouldn't last long, and as of the summer of 2008, the gap between "formerly the Grateful Dead" tours has been the longest since Jerry Garcia died in 1995. In retrospect, a lot of the appeal of each individual tour had as much to do with potential as with the actual music played; in other words, there was always a feeling of "if they're this good now, think how good they'll be after a few tours!"
Unfortunately, those few tours (with any constant lineup) never materialized, and we fans have been left with a few happy memories as the legacy of "The Dead" (and "The Other Ones", as they were known from 1998-2002) rather than any particularly significant body of musical work.
This is a revised version of a review that I wrote at the time.
The Dead
Jones Beach Amphitheater, Wantagh, NY
August 13 & 14, 2004
We got back Sunday from a weekend trip to Jones Beach to see the latest incarnation of "The Dead". All in all a great time was had by all and it was very much "worth the trip". While overcast all weekend, the rain didn't start in earnest until the second set of the second show.
First off, some words of praise for the venue. This is the second trip I've made to Jones Beach to see The Dead, and this is now one of my favorite "big" venues in the Northeast. There are a few small minuses -- the venue has no roof, so you might get wet, and there are no beer sales -- but they're far outweighed by the plusses (which include no obnoxious drunks and great sound because there's no roof).
Plus, well, it's just NEW YORK. As Phil Lesh memorably said at the end of the first concert, "We just can't get up here and play the same old stuff for you guys". Even sober, a New York crowd is a high-energy crowd, and any performer is going to get off on that. For the Dead, a loud, boisterous crowd can be pure gold, as evidenced by the large number of official live recordings they've chosen to release from the New York area.
This weekend, they were clearly the best post-Jerry Dead-related band I've seen. I was originally skeptical that they were once again messing with the lineup, losing keyboardist Rob Barraco and vocalist Joan Osbourne at the beginning of the year, and adding singer/guitarist Warren Haynes to the band; even though Warren is a great musician, I was more concerned that the frequently-shifting lineup might not gel easily.
I shouldn't have been worried. Barraco was always merely competent, as a keyboardist and a vocalist, with none of the rhythmic or harmonic sophistication that Jeff Chimenti brings to the band. And Warren Haynes is a (no pun intended) huge addition to the band, in terms of his playing and his vocals.
It probably helped that the Jones Beach shows came at the end of almost two months of touring (with a short break in the middle). This is also the third year in a row that the four original Dead members have toured... the most touring they've done since Jerry died. They're definitely comfortable with who they are now (and who they aren't) and are getting better with every tour at playing to their strengths (although that's still not foolproof -- they wouldn't be "The Dead" if it was! -- and Bob Weir's singing voice seems to be deteriorating at an alarming rate).
While the GD were notorious for almost never rehearsing, this band has taken obvious and infectious delight at digging out some of their most obscure and complex numbers. The baroque creations of the late 60s ("St. Stephen", "The Eleven", "Born Cross-Eyed", etc) and the pseudo-fusion of the mid-70s ("Slipknot", "Unbroken Chain", etc.) were often beyond the reach of the latter-day Grateful Dead, and Garcia admitted as much in a late-80s interview in The Golden Road fanzine where he said it was too much trouble for them to re-learn and rehearse complex songs like "St. Stephen".
Watching the new band, it's sadly obvious where the weak link was in that regard. In terms of tightness and technical virtuosity, this band is so much better than the old Grateful Dead that at times it's literally awe-inspiring. Not just because of the high-quality sidemen they've brought into the group, but because of how much better the GD guys play when they don't have to worry about the bandleader dropping beats or missing the changes. They're fearless when it comes to re-visiting 'difficult' songs from their back catalog, and the results often reveal musical gold that was sometimes obscured by sloppy performances in the past.
But the Grateful Dead were never about technical virtuosity or note-perfect renditions. The GD were about magic, and the other thing that's obvious about all of the post-GD groups (starting with 1998's Other Ones) is the almost inevitable lack of that magic. The Grateful Dead always gave a lot of lip-service to the idea that they were a "collective" with no real leader (yeah, so was the Soviet Union!), and some of us even bought it, for a while. After all, the difference in sound between the Grateful Dead and Jerry's solo "bar band" was immense, and there's no question that every member of the GD contributed far more than mere "accompaniment" on any given night.
But they had a leader, make no mistake, and almost every aspect of their music was based around responding (one way or another) to his ideas (early on, of course, they had two leaders, Jerry and Pigpen, but Jerry was always the primary instrumentalist). Jerry was almost always the one with the final decision where the music was going to go at any given moment, and the band basically lived or died by his level of inspiration on any given night.
Since Jerry died, they've never managed to find someone who could really fill his shoes in terms of shaping the band's sound. The first couple of Other Ones tours featured two guitarists and a sax player in the "solo" slot and suffered from the inevitable "whose turn is it now?" syndrome that resulted. In 2002 they returned with only two guitars, Bob Weir and Jimmy Herring. It was an exciting time to see the band -- certainly more exciting than I really expected any "Other Ones" show to be at that point -- and the band was playing better together than they had in a long time.
But over the next year or so, Herring never succeeded in stepping into Jerry's shoes. Nobody expected him to become a note-for-note Jerry clone, but there was always something missing. He rarely seemed to move beyond being a sideman. He's a technical wizard (of the John McLaughlin/Steve Morse school), and his solos were never less than tasteful and well-constructed, but he just never seemed like he was about to cut loose and lead the band on a bat-out-of-hell musical voyage across the cosmos. And really, what do you want to see at a Dead show? Tastefully succinct melodies, or musical voyages cross the cosmos? Thought so.
So this year, along comes Warren Haynes. In bassist Phil Lesh's band, Warren was usually the one who DID lead the band on long, melodic flights of fancy. Stylistically, he's a perfect match for The Dead, with a killer melodic sense, strong vocals and a huge, varied repertoire (he even sang a Metallica song with The Dead the first night).
Vocally, Warren is a killer, and they have wisely let/asked him to sing a lot, sometimes including songs that the others had "covered" in the past (e.g. "Terrapin"). He's expressive enough that he can take someone else's signature tune (e.g. "Into the Mystic", sung with The Dead or "Alison", sung solo the second night) and render it in his own voice. His presence frees Phil from any heavy vocal duties, but, curiously, the band chose to do mostly Weir (and Mickey Hart) vocals on Saturday, after a very Warren-heavy show the night before. As I mentioned earlier, Weir's voice sounded pretty bad, and while his new speak/sing style can work to good effect (in terms of differentiating his performances from Jerry's), it can really reveal his limitations as well.
So now The Dead have this strong vocalist, who's also a killer guitarist, and the inevitable question is, "Do they need three guitarists"? Three guitars is usually too much for ANY band, unless they're the Gipsy Kings, and Jimmy seemed the odd man out during much of Friday's first set. But Friday's second set played heavily to his strong points. He covered all the fast "fiddly bits" in "Slipknot" and "Unbroken Chain", and he continues to excel at soloing in that fusiony style the Dead were playing with in the mid-70s.
In fact, my opinion of Jimmy Herring's playing has continued to improve almost every time I've seen him. Each night at Jones Beach, he did a "space" segment, accompanied only by Mickey Hart on Beam, that was almost Frippian in its dissonant beauty. His soloing dominated the second night's show, and there was much less of the pointless "woodly-woodly" playing that he sometimes fell back on during previous Dead/Other Ones tours.
But in the end, although each guitarist played exceptionally well throughout the weekend, I still came away thinking that three guitars is too much (unless you're the League of Crafty Guitarists). There were times when Warren took the lead and times when Jimmy took the lead, but at each point, the other one was largely superfluous due to the presence of Weir (plus, the band still suffers from occasional touches of "whose turn is it now?"). In Phil's band, Jimmy and Warren always provide great rhythm support for each other, but in The Dead, there's always one guitarist too many.
If I had to pick, I'd say that Warren is more suited to The Dead. Whether he wants to be a full-time member is an entirely different question -- it would probably be pretty creepy after starting his career in the "majors" filling in for Duane Allman -- but even aside from his vocals, Warren's musical personality is much more suited to The Dead. Jimmy seems to be a soloist from the Armstrong/Parker tradition: say what you've got to say and shut up. Warren is much more interested in spinning extended melodic flights, a la Rollins or Coltrane, but more importantly, Warren is a leader. As technically proficient and stunning a player as Jimmy is, he still plays like an accompanist when he's in The Dead. He never seems ready to "take the bull by the horns" and drag the band hither and yon according to his whim.
With Warren Haynes, the post-Jerry band has, for the first time, a leader who's willing and able to step into that position (Bruce Hornsby was certainly able, and probably willing, during the original Other Ones tours, but I don't think he really got the leeway he needed to mold the band in his image). That's a position that I just don't every see Jimmy Herring stepping into, after seeing him play with The Dead for three years in a row now.
Even if Warren doesn't want to continue with the band after this year, I can only hope that they learn from the experience and find someone with a strong enough musical personality (and fearlessness) to take charge. Because all the tasteful, brilliant, technically flawless accompaniment in the world isn't going to make up for the fact that, until now, The Dead have been Four Sidemen In Search of a Leader. Unfortunately, the fact that Warren was the sideman for most of Saturday's show makes me wonder whether the four GD guys have realized this.
As for Jimmy Herring, as well as he played, and as much as my opinion of him has improved, he still seems like a (chuckle) fish (sorry) out of water when playing with the Dead. This guy should be back playing with Billy Cobham and Alphonso Johnson -- playing real fusion, not Dead covers.
Overall, though, there's no question that this was a great weekend of music. The band was jamming hard the first night, with each song following the previous one like a runaway train. The setlist itself can't capture the feeling, as each song featured top-quality jamming within it, which made each new song transition that much more of a pleasant surprise as they piled classic jamming tune upon classic jamming tune ("What do they have left for tomorrow?" was a commonly-heard question after the first show). Things were definitely chaotic and often out-of-control but this show was the closest to real, on-the-edge "we can do no wrong" playing I've heard from The Dead in a long time (fittingly, it also featured its share of "classic" Dead flubs -- "we can do no wrong" is always a fleeting illusion, after all! -- including a total train wreck at the end of "Shakedown Street" and an impressive double-reverse train wreck with a half gainer that led back into "Slipknot/Franklin's Tower" at the end of the set). As incongruous as it might seem, Warren's Metallica cover ("Nothing Else Matters") fit in perfectly well between "Shakedown" and "Cryptical Envelopment".
Saturday night was much more of a controlled, rocking show (especially the first set, which was very up-tempo) featuring big hits ("Truckin'", "Iko Iko") and obscure rockers ("Golden Road", "Mason's Children"). The second set got off to a ripping start with a massive "Terrapin" before a rocking "Dancing in the Streets" (which was, unfortunately, marred by truly horrible vocals from Weir; they should transpose this song to a different key for him). The title of "Only The Strange Remain" used to be a self-fulfilling prophecy for the Other Ones as many treated it as an excuse for a bathroom break, but the version from Saturday night was so heavy it verged on "Victim or the Crime" territory.
It was raining pretty steadily by the end of drums/space, though, and unfortunately, Weir chose to bring the energy level down with a Jerry ballad ("Standing on the Moon"). His slightly-faster arrangement was well-done, but the song really took a lot of the energy out of the set. "China Cat - Rider" followed, but while the previous night's jams had been chaotic and inspired, this one just seemed chaotic (or maybe I was just too tired by then). "Turn on Your Love Light" ended the show on an uptempo note with ripping solos from everyone, before a "One More Saturday Night"/"Ripple" encore that was, unfortunately, compromised once again by Weir's vocals. Here's hoping he gets some rest before the Ratdog tour.
There's a couple more shows left in this tour, and then who knows what they'll be up to in the fall and winter. If you don't like the New Dead, you know it, and this version of the band probably won't change your mind. If you've been on the fence, though, you should really check them out this time around. And who knows what next year will have in store?
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