Part Two features:
American Beauty - 1970 * Grateful Dead (Live) - 1971 * Europe '72 - 1972 * Garcia - 1972 (Jerry Garcia) * Ace - 1972 (Bob Weir).
AMERICAN BEAUTY - 1970
On American Beauty, the Dead continued with the simple song-style they had developed on Workingman's Dead. They moved further into vocal harmony, and since vocal harmony, at this point, wasn't a particularly strong asset of the Dead, the album lacked the variety and rollicking sense of fun found on the preceding album. "Candyman," "Sugar Magnolia," "Operator" and" Attics of My Life," as well as the positive accomplishments found on some of the other songs, make It hard to fault the band's attempt to expand their horizons. "Candyman," in particular, is an astonishingly successful song and contains a sublime Garcia solo.
Hunter left realism behind on "Box of Rain," "Ripple," "Brokedown Palace," "Till the Morning Comes" and "Attics of My Life." The musicianship is low-key on these songs. "Box of Rain" has queasy harmonies tailing into off-key areas, but, about halfway through, the vocals start coming together and the song becomes quite powerful . "Attics of My Life" is sung better; the harmonies are serene and rock bottom simple. "Attics" is a beautiful love song with some nicely turned phrases:
In the secret
space of dreams
Where I dreaming lay amazed
When the secrets all are told
And the petals all unfold
When there was no dream of mine
You dreamed of me
These soft attempts at beauty may make for easy-listening, but they are not complacent. "Till the Morning Comes," for example, shows Hunter's tentative way of handling a love song:
Till the
morning comes
It'll do just fine
Till the morning comes
like a highway sign
Showing you the way
leaving no doubt
of the way on in
or the way back out...
You're my woman now
Make yourself easy
"Truckin'" and "Operator" draw on blues riffing; the latter has Delta-tinged guitar and a nice Pigpen vocal. "Friend of the Devil" features David Grisman on mandolin and it's an ultra-traditional arrangement for the band; it's fun, but impersonal (musically) - it sounds more like a New Riders' song than a Dead song.
"Sugar Magnolia" is a sprawling epic about flesh and spirit. This is the earliest representation of Bob Weir's penchant for complex arrangements full of hooks. I've heard several versions of "Sugar Magnolia" and everyone is pleasantly surprising in some new way. The arrangement not only shows flexibility and sophistication in how it's been put together, but this originality is fundamentally important to the ear of the jaded listener which receives this information as fresh, invigorating sound. Some of the lyrics on "Sugar Magnolia" may have fueled the criticism that the Dead were sexist. After all, the girl's head is "all empty," but Bob doesn't care as long as she waits back stage until he finishes the show. As much as I like the song, I think on this particular occasion, on these particular lines, Weir and/or Hunter are marginally guilty as charged.
American Beauty will appeal to anybody who doesn't mistake the Dead's vocal harmonies as an attempt at pop harmonies. Robert Christgau pointed out that sweet harmonies of the Crosby, Stills and Nash variety would trivialize the Dead's music. From a musical standpoint, these songs need little defense. The Dead were starting to be drawn toward the slow burn, the relaxed approach to profundity. By the time their next studio album was released, two years after American Beauty, there wasn't much the Dead needed to learn from rock music. American Beauty was a step towards this total mastery of form. There's more than enough quality on Live/Dead, Workingman's Dead and American Beauty to humbly suggest that the Grateful Dead were the band-of-the--year in 1970. Nobody seemed to notice.
GRATEFUL DEAD - 1971 (Live)
Here I go again: The Grateful Dead was the best live album released in 1971 and it's also one of the years finest records. This album shows why the live, double album format is so crucial to the Dead: they do five times as many cover tunes as the average band, they write a lot of material, and, on an improvised work like "The Other One," they need room to move.
This is as close to a rock & roll album as the Dead have produced. For the first time, Weir's rhythm guitar becomes an obviously crucial element to the Dead's sound; and Weir was finally asserting himself, finding his voice on material like "Me and My Uncle," " Me and Bobby McGee" and "Mama Tried," as well as contributing "Playin' in the Band ," a perpetually imperfect song that always has a lot to offer. Propulsion comes from Weir's and Garcia's energetic harmonies (they sound great together). Bill Kreutzmann is a revelation, busting his ass to keep the guys humming (Mickey Hart had left the group).
Live albums have always been maligned by the critical establishment. Personally, I love 'em. Some bands are faced with a sink or swim situation on live albums and watching their efforts to stay afloat can be exciting. Other artists have used live albums as little more than a greatest-hits package, or as a convenient way to tie them over during a period of low creativity. But good artists, during live performances, often push their best songs to more powerful extremes, adding elements that derive from having played a song hundreds of times while trying to keep it fresh and interesting. An archetypal example would be Chuck Berry's live version of "Reelin' and Rockin'" on the Chess box set. I could name one-hundred live albums released since 1965 that show bands outdoing earlier performances \- the Jefferson Airplane's Bless It's Pointed Little Head, The Allman Brothers Live at the Fillmore and the Kinks' One For the Road come to mind. Of course, many bands don't peak when doing live recordings, the Rolling Stones being the most obvious example.
The Grateful Dead thrive on live performances; they casually toss off interesting variations of their songs, easily topping studio takes, or older live recordings. In spite of the live successes of some of their peers, the Dead do it consistently and easily. Their style is more like a jazz band than a pop/rock/blues band. They go out and blow. The results are impressive and the Dead have released, by a landslide, the most inspired string of live albums by any post-fifties song artists. Starting with the live sequences on Anthem of the Sun in 1968 and ending six live releases (comprising thirteen albums worth of material) later with their finest live album, Dead Set (since joined by two more strong concert recordings - Without a Net and One From the Vault), these albums alone signify the band's importance. [Dead tapers and Dead Heads in general knew the consistent power of the Dead's live shows. Although this was provable, the idea was treated skeptically by a rock press who, for the most part, never bothered to review or attend the live shows (in Creem magazine they would sometimes review live shows without actually attending them. We should remind everybody we are dealing with the official releases only, and that Dick's PIcks' revelations were still in the future when this was written].
The Grateful Dead contains, among other things, the anti-rock & roll of "The Other One." The lyrics included on the original cut on Anthem of the Sun are left out. Except for the rhythmical/melodic theme, little remains of the song. Instead, we get a five minute drum solo, followed by a thirteen minute jam. On this drum solo, Kreutzmann sounds like he has twelve hands.
The improvisation is something else entirely. There are four places where the band gets into fiery playing - roughly, one musical vindication every three minutes. A first climax is reached when Weir and Garcia get into contrapuntal slide/lead/ chord exchanges which build into a cyclone of jagged motion. Another inspired point occurs when Lesh, Weir and Garcia start mimicking and countering each other with a tango-ish dancing interplay. The third highlight is the tenseness of the musical theme that leads into and out of the lyrics (led by an inspired riff). Finishing it off is Garcia's weird, half-step scales from some foreign country - simple two-note rocking motions and short licks which the band slips and slides over, under and around. These are all nice tricks; and it's a good improvisation.
For sheer firepower, there's "Bertha," "Big Railroad Blues," "Me and My Uncle," " Big Boss Man," and "Johnny B. Goode." On "Bertha," Weir is slap happy and Lesh is a standout. It's an unrelenting performance about bad times resulting from an unfortunate acquaintance; a good story, there must be something very attractive about Bertha to keep the narrator running so hard to stay ahead of her. "Big Railroad Blues" is rambunctious, pushed by Lesh's single-note bass throbs and Kreutzmann's smack , smack, smack. It's an old song with the protagonist wishing he'd listened to what his mama said. The train is moving so fast you feel sorry for the guy. A great interpretation of a great song, this is perhaps the definitive version, as is "Me and My Uncle," a cover of John Phillip's action-packed tune. The tempestuous rhythm arrangement shows the Dead at their best; Kreutzmann shines on this cowboy song and Garcia's snaky guitar rides every twist and turn in this fast moving tale of revenge.
"Johnny B. Goode" contains enough Deadness to make it special. The cowboy treatment of "Me and Bobby McGee" has the ambiance of wide-open spaces, and a heart-felt Mexicali vocal display at the end.
What remains is the Dead working their craft in many different ways: the forlorn quality of "Wharf Rat;" the glorious gladness and sadness of "Not Fade Away " and "Going Down the Road Feeling Bad;" and "Big Boss Man" (Garcia tries to make his guitar talk back - no luck).
EUROPE '72 - 1972 (Live)
Europe '72 is the most ambitious live rock and roll album ever attempted at the time: it's made up of several improvisations, six new originals and several new covers of standards, as well as some new takes on older Dead material. (Of course, I'm paraphrasing a hyperbolic review of Jackson Browne's Running on Empty, but, after all, that album was a scrawny, filler filled, miserly album - the Dead have the real thing.)
Europe '72 is a triple album so let's get on with it. First, the improvisations : "Truckin'" should not be missed. It's smoother than the original and Lesh's bass playing is reminiscent of jazz-bassist Charlie Mingus' playing, especially in Lesh 's ability to swing so freely with his walking-bass lines - in many ways these bass lines epitomize "trucking" freedom. Lesh goes beyond previous rock and roll walking-bass performances as he extends his lines, plays them high, low, stunts his attack and changes walking patterns constantly. It's a tour-de-force performance, almost be-bop in conception, fancy-free as the wind. Anybody who thinks the Dead are wimpy rhythmically should be strapped into a chair and battered with the jam that rolls off of "Truckin'": Kreutzmann is as steady and strong as a well-lubed piston and everything around him is pounding away like beautiful machinery. This isn't "tight " like the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section or Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman - it's much more inspired than that. Once upon a time, teenagers discovered that the 4/4 and the Big-Beat could be sublime; but soon they settled for anything that was marginally hypnotic and dance inducing. The Dead are a progressive band. This is a new dance, but it's basically good old rock & roll. You just have to move kinda funny.
The second long jam on Europe '72 is "Prologue." This is, perhaps, my favorite Dead improvisation of the weird-world variety. No telling how long they had been going at it when they fade in on side six. Unexpectedly, Keith Godchaux starts doing long, two-handed piano runs which create a shimmering wave of sound that the rest of the band start complimenting. The Dead have a knack for disassociating the listener's mind from typical pop/rock levels of experience and carrying it elsewhere. If you have ever felt the pull these songs have, then you understand that what the critics call "psychedelic" can also be described as dreamy, silly, scary, happy, sad - in other words, "emotional." "Prologue" is an emotional experience; it's as joyously interactive and mesmerizingly mysteriously mesmerizing as anything on Miles Davis' Bitches Brew. Of course, the Dead are more "Boo" than voodoo, but the spirit is somehow intertwined and the effect just as chilling.
"Prologue" works its way into "Morning Dew." "Morning Dew" has a melody and concept that seldom holds its own against the Dead's powerful music. The lyrics put you in a state of over-anticipation, let's get it over with already. The music is the whole show - from the lovely arpeggios to the homage to Hendrix near the ending. There are times when you wish the band would just abandon words all together.
The new Hunter-penned songs were "He's Gone," "Jack Straw," "Brown-Eyed Women" "Tennessee Jed," "Mr. Charlie" and "Ramble On Rose." "Mr. Charlie," notable for being the last tune Pigpen sang on, is a joyous, slim, authentic slice of r&b.
"Jack Straw" is a classic tale of recklessness getting out of hand. The Dead's continual break up of the structure of "Jack Straw," in order to go for a more complex narrative mood, is a good example of their technique and craftsmanship. Hunter's outlaw tales are always particularly interesting (check out Amagamalin Street and "Mad" on Tales of the Great Rum Runners).
The remaining new songs seem to be attempting to create an archaic American sound reminiscent of The Band. With this comparison in mind, "Ramble On, Rose" suffers somewhat: the music is pretty nondescript and the lyrics are of the catalogue variety .
"Tennessee Jed," "Brown-Eyed Women," and "He's Gone" fare better. They have a raggedy, old-time feel, sweet, old-fashioned harmonies and clever lyrics. Although it's often said there is nothing new under the sun, I'd like to know where the Dead dig up the rhythmic framework of songs like "Tennessee Jed," "Ramble On Rose," and "He's Gone." They seem to come from a New Orleans or a Beale Street or a Tin Pan Alley located in the Dead's collective unconscious. "Brown-Eyed Women" is the most ambitious of the new tunes: the lyric is a saga written around the life of an old whiskey bootlegger as told by his son. The song has a little more historical flavor, and a little more realistically detailed scope than the average Hunter song and this sustained realism is interesting as a variation of Dead thinking.
The rest of Europe '72 contains new versions of "One More Saturday Night" (lots of fun following the key changes), "China Cat Sunflower" (okay, but not as transcendently goofy as the original), "Hurts Me, Too" (killer guitar), "I Know You Rider" (wonderful, proud, elegant) and "Sugar Magnolia (some good points, some bad points).
I'll stick with my opening statement to this extent: Europe '72 was an ambitious, important record by a band that had become North America's most important (non-jazz) band. Unfortunately, they were increasingly becoming misunderstood by an American rock press who could no longer keep up with their inclination to roam and frolic.
GARCIA - 1972 (Jerry Garcia)
At this point the solo albums begin.
A uniformly excellent album, Garcia contributed several fine songs to the Dead 's repertoire, including "Deal," "Bird Song," "Sugaree" and "Loser." Garcia is a Deadian album, or call it a Dead album without Lesh - the only thing missing is Phil Lesh's unique bass-styling ( especially on the experimental "Eep Hour"). Hunter's ethos is present and Kreutzmann 's drumming is exemplary throughout.
"Bird Song" has a pretty, ascending vocal melody and an equally melodic guitar counterpart. Garcia's melodiousness, perhaps because there is only so much he can do with his voice, is usually well thought out and often leads to distinctive, original patterns; this one, for instance, seems to have been found on the guitar or piano. "Bird Song" is a bittersweet love song about freedom:
If you hear
that same sweet song again
Will you know why?
Anyone who sings a tune so sweet
is passing by
Sleep in the sun
Don't you cry
Dry your eyes on the wind
"To Lay Me Down" is tender and sad and shows what kind of riffing Garcia can do with his voice: he even manages a nice falsetto on the extended, ad-libbed ending . I have an ambivalent attitude about his performance though. Sometimes his voice doesn't quite carry off this conceit; sometimes it does. Kreutzmann establishes a slow , staccato rhythm and the song is sentimental and romantic in an original Dead manner.
"Sugaree" may be slightly overrated. It seems to be a story about two crooks (a man and a woman) running from the law. It's big meaning has always escaped me. It's a bit long and repetitive, and the plot is a little murky. There are some nice arpeggios and a good solo, but it approaches an average performance here.
The pedal steel is a wonderful instrument in Garcia's hands and gives "The Wheel " a heavenly, lyrical sweep. Hunter asks some good questions:
The wheel is
turnin' and you can't slow down
You can't let go and you can't hold on
You can't go back and you can't stand still
If the thunder don't get you,
then the lightening' will.
Won't you try
just a little bit harder?
Couldn't you try just a little bit more?
"Loser" is the big song, among big songs on the album. One of 'Hunter's most perfectly written lyrics, "Loser" is propelled by a bass-line full of foreboding and tense drum/guitar playing:
If I had a
gun for every ace I've drawn
I could arm a town the size of Abilene
Don't you push me, baby
'cause I'm moanin' low
You know I'm only in it for the gold
A stunning achievement in imagery and characterization, "Loser" is a gem. I find 1t hard to understand how the significance of "Loser" and "Deal," two metaphorical tales about gambling applicable to all sorts of situations in life, has been overlooked by song critics. Henry David Thoreau's observation - that most men lead lives of quiet desperation - has seldom been more succinctly expressed than on "Loser." I consider it one of the greatest songs ever written (and performed).
The experimental songs are equally interesting. "Eep Hour" begins like roller rink music, but moves into a luscious pedal-steel performance. "Spidergawd" is dark and scary, and suggests that humans are curious creatures.
With a force like Garcia in the Grateful Dead, one begins to see why they continue to be surprising and innovative twenty-five years after the advent of sixties rock & roll. The review of Garcia in Rolling Stone conceded that the record was pretty good, but failed to see what all the Grateful Dead fuss was about. Well, part of the fuss had to do with nothing more than that Garcia was, indeed, pretty good. If you like understatement.
ACE - 1972 (Bob Weir)
"Black-Throated Wind," "Walk in the Sunshine" and "Looks Like Rain" are good ideas defeated by weak performances, but the success of the remaining five songs, and the aspirations of the failures, make Ace a strong debut album by Bob Weir. "Playin' in the Band" with its arpeggio beauty and improvised ending show one aspect of the Dead's influence; the straight forward simplicity of "Mexicali Blues" and "One More Saturday Night" show another. In fact, the Dead are present and accounted for, so this is pretty much a Dead extravaganza from beginning to end.
Hunter and Weir, writing together on "Greatest Story Ever Told" take several tall tales from the Bible and make them taller: Abraham and Isaac are sitting on that fence; Moses rides in on a quasar; they all dig a well, but it's doubtful they'll find any water. It's a rocker, as is "One More Saturday Night." Both songs are heavy on roots-rock style done up in baroque Dead fashion.
"Black-Throated Wind" and "Looks Like Rain" are melodically dramatic in an epic way, and are admirable in intention, but Weir was still too uncontrolled a vocalist to pull off this high-blown drama. To make matters worse, "Black-Throated Wind" has an amateurish, clumsy lyric written by Weir and John Barlow that seems difficult to sing.
"Cassidy" is a tribute to Neal Cassady through the medium of a daughter born into the Dead family. "Cassidy" is everything "That's it for the Other One" tried to be in dealing with the Kerouac/Cassady legend. The oddly-tuned, open-stringed playing adds an exotic, magical element to this ode. The lyrics capture Cassady's (and Kerouac's) influence and make it real:
Lost now on
the country miles in his Cadillac
I can tell by the way you smile,
you brought him back
Come wash the night time clean
Come grow the scorched ground green
Blow the horn and tap the tambourine
Close the gap of the dark years in between
you and me,
Cassidy.
I can tell by
the mark he left
You were in his dreams...
Speak his name, though you were born to be
Born to be,
Cassidy
Fare ye well
now
Let your life proceed by its own design
Nothing better to tell now
Let the words be yours
I'm done with mine
On "Ace," Weir's growth as a musician and songwriter was well represented. There was some grand music-making on the record, though Bob's status as dunderhead would endure for awhile longer.
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