Part Three features:
Rolling Thunder - 1972 (Mickey Hart) * Wake of the Flood - 1973 * From the Mars Hotel - 1974 * Compliments - 1974 (Jerry Garcia) * Tales of the Great rum Runners - 1974 (Robert Hunter * Skeletons in the Closet: The Best of the Grateful Dead - 1974 * Blues for Allah - 1975 * Keith and Donna - 1975 * Steal Your Face - 1976 * Reflections - 1976 (Jerry Garcia) * Diga - 1976 (Diga Rhythm Band) * Terrapin Station - 1977 * What a Long Strange Trip It's Been - 1977 * Shakedown Street - 1978 * Cats Down Under the Stars (1978 - Jerry Garcia) * Heaven Help the Fool - 1978 (Bob Weir) * Go to Heaven - 1989 * Reckoning - 1981 * Dead Set - 1981 * Run for the Roses - 1982 (Jerry Garcia) * Amagamalin Street - 1984 (Robert Hunter) * In the Dark - 1987 * Built to Last 1989 * Dylan and the Dead - 1989.
ROLLING THUNDER - 1972 (Mickey Hart)
Mickey Hart left the Dead for a few years in the early seventies to pursue his own interests. Rolling Thunder was one result. Considering the heavyweights assisting him in writing and performing the songs - Paul Kantner, Grace Slick, Bob Weir, Robert Hunter, Jerry Garcia, Steve Stills, John Cipollina, David Freiberg and the Tower of Power horns - the album can hardly be considered a solo effort. The talent-heavy production showcases several overloaded, murky mixes. Quintessential Hart can be found on three or four streamlined, percussion- based tracks. But much of the record is an infectious San Francisco free-for-all.
There are embryonic versions of "Playing in the Band" (here called "The Main Ten") and "The Greatest Story Ever Told" (here called "Pump" on the back cover, and "Pump Man" on the inside label). "The Main Ten" is a raunchy, raggedy version of the Hunter/Weir/Hart song . The horns hold out long, long notes and timbales chirp along; the structure we would grow to know and love is present, but buried alive.
"Pump" uses a real water-pump to set the rhythm - a nice idea, but it is basically an interesting, but sluggish, groove and isn't as much fun as Weir's arrangement on Ace.
The incomparable Grace Slick and Paul Kantner contribute Airplane--like harmonies to "Blind John," but it's weak compared to the Airplane's own material. "Fletcher Carnaby" sounds like an Aoxomoxoa outtake; David Freiberg's vocal is unbearably distorted in a sad case of misguided production. "Deep, Wide and Frequent" is a pseudo-funky jam with boring guitar solos over a repetitive, unDead-like arrangement. "Young Man" and "Hangin' On" have some nice playing, but the mix is turgid.
What's left is pure Hart, and worth putting on a tape by itself. Hart was well ahead of his time in taking seriously the musicality of percussion instruments. "Rain " works two concepts of drumming into each other - the North American Indian style and the Eastern Indian style; it's an intoxicating, melodic mixture. "The Chase (Progress)" is even better, with Garcia adding sparse guitar coloring to a hypnotic wall of tablas and drums. "Granma's Cookies" is a little odder; interesting, but hardly enthralling.
Hart's precocious, musicological leanings were important to the Dead, and Rolling Thunder, in its most Hart-like moments, shows a mature and intelligent approach to an instrument often the forte of dunderheads.
WAKE OF THE FLOOD - 1973
By the time Wake of the Flood rolled around, many critics seemed thoroughly confused as to what the Grateful Dead had to offer. Were they a country, cowboy band? A psychedelic band? A neo-folk band with rock pretensions? Or were they the sometimes jazzy, almost slick band represented on Wake of the Flood? Of course, the Dead were all this and more; they had had time to indulge their musical interests , but critics prefer categories and labels, so the easy tags of "acid-rock" and " hippie-country" stuck despite their inappropriateness.
Wake of the Flood has the seamless, unified beauty of an album like Abbey Road, although it is a deeper, more challenging work than the Beatles' album . Compared to other inspired albums released in 1973, Wake of the Flood holds its own. Berlin (Lou Reed) is unified and superficially pretty, but offers a cold, detached experience. The Who's Quadrophenia is an ungainly, ugly mass of music with some moments of rocking passion, but it's hit-and--miss all the way. There were plenty of interesting albums released in 1973 - Baron Von Tollbooth and the Chrome Nun (Grace Slick/Paul Kantner), Texas Tornado (Doug Sahm), Quicksilver, Preservation Act I (Kinks), There Goes Rhymin ' Simon (Paul Simon), The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle (Bruce Springsteen), etc. None of these show the consistently masterful quality of Wake of the Flood.
There are a few weaknesses. The surface of the album is hard to penetrate. It's a bit glossy, and the effect doesn't always come off. The Dead stay true to their pacing, and, if your heart is beating a bit fast, "Stella Blue" and "Row, Jimmy " may slip right past without being noticed. But the Dead are in control of these delicate creations and once the subtle hooks sink in, they take you along an emotional journey.
"Here Comes Sunshine" is a Beatles-style exercise. (Lesh's bass throughout Wake of the Flood offers take after take of McCartney-like beauty; he's seems to be on that frequency here.) This is about as close to pure pop as the Dead get. Hope springs eternal in this tale of flood survivors. There's a bit of the desperate quality of "Deal" on this song, but the psychology of hope is colored more optimistically. The song ends right in the middle of what sounds like a great jam.
"Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo" has an epic sprawl. It's a don't-get-tied -down song about the joys of hitting the road:
They say that
when you ship comes in
the first man takes the sails
Second takes the afterdeck\
The third the planks and rails
What's the point of callin' shots?
This cue ain't straight in line
Cueball's made of styrofoam
And no one's got the time
Wake of the Flood is so far removed from musical egotism, it is hard to imagine more proficient ensemble musicianship. "Stella Blue" showcases the arranging genius of Garcia. A distillation of one of Hunter's main themes, it's a masterpiece of complex understatement. The melody is frail: you almost lean into the music to hear it. The bridge has a series of chord changes that are fresh and loaded down with emotional baggage.
There's a bass performance on "Eyes of the World" that reinforces my feeling that Lesh is one of the instruments best representatives. This is jazzy music with an emphasis on melody. It is so good musically, it doesn't have to mean anything, but it does: "Sometimes the songs that we sing are just songs of our own. "Eyes of the World" is a song for themselves; it's graceful, playful and very tasty playing.
"Row, Jimmy" has been discussed elsewhere and it is enough to repeat it's my favorite song on the l.p.
"Weather Report, Part One" and "Weather Report, 'Part Two: Let it Flow" were the only contributions by Bob Weir to Wake of the Flood, but they are major endeavors and retain the rarified atmosphere of the rest of the album. Weir's and John Barlow's meditations on nature were becoming a trademark. Saxophone is a welcome addition to "Let it Flow," fitting easily into the Dead's accommodating playing style. It's the type of guest-playing one wishes happened more often with the Dead. An acoustic guitar starts "Weather Report" with down-to-earth simplicity, but the arrangement grows into a tempest of sound and motion in "Part Two." The changes are wonderful (three different keys), and Keith's piano is particularly inspired on this tale of man verses nature.
Wake of the Flood changed the Dead from just another good sixties band with a string of interesting records into one of the most consistent bands to emerge in those years. Much of the work from their various solo albums was Dead music, but the artistic significance of this prolific product was never properly considered at the time, by any writers we have found. On Wake of the Flood, the band's writing/playing reached a pinnacle of refinement. If they had been given an extra album to stretch this material out it may have been even better.
FROM THE MARS HOTEL - 1974
From the Mars Hotel is less refined than Wake of the Flood, a little simpler. "U.S. Blues ," "Loose Lucy," and "Money, Money" are, to some extent, rockers. It takes awhile to warm up to the stop/start rhythm of "U.S. Blues," but it has a good lyric and friendly carriage. "Loose Lucy" is too complicated for its own good: it gets funky when it should rock out: the music and vocal are too classy for this story about unsophisticated losers, the Dead just aren't playing dirty enough for the subject matter. "Money, Money," on the other hand, works as a grim character sketch. Robert Christgau, in the Village Voice, said this song was derogatory to women, but I think Weir's actual stance implies both characters - the man and the woman - are pretty sorry individuals, an unfortunate circumstance that often occurs in real life. Weir wields a balance to Dead matters, and "Money, Money" is one of many examples.
"China Doll," "Unbroken Chain," "Scarlet Begonias," "Pride of Cucamonga" and "Ship of Fools" raise From the Mars Hotel far above the ordinary. "China Doll" has that audacious Dead slowness; there's no chorus, no bridge: it's absolutely unconventional. The interplay among the acoustic bass, the various keyboards and guitars and the delicate drumming make this the prettiest music-box music you'll ever hear. A wisp of a song about a murder, the meaning is elusive; but don't mistake this for lightweight. Like many stories, this one remains largely untold. The music is inhumanly gothic.
"Unbroken Chain" is an insane song with a good lyric contribution by Bob Peterson. The high-pitched noise is great. A human cry from the wilderness, the song is alive with countless years of loneliness. For some reason, it brings to mind the movie "McCabe and Mrs. Miller," in which Warren Beatty's good natured and visionary character is shot by mercenaries doing the dirty work for big business. McCabe is left to freeze to death in a snowstorm. "Unbroken Chain" contains one of Lesh's few recorded vocals, and he gives a warm, shaggy performance.
"Scarlet Begonias" is as good a love song as the Beatles' "Day Tripper." Weir's rhythm-riffs, like the rhythm-riffing on "Day Tripper," is classic stuff. Basically an update on "Bird Song," this is one of those tunes easily misinterpreted by un-Dead people, but, despite what the male narrator suggests, there is a good side to the female character's free spirit. It's an off-center view of Deadian freedom.
"Ship of Fools" goes out like an American spiritual, with fancy, patriotic playing, and ensemble work so precise it seems composed. It's a song for America in the latter part of the twentieth century (but obviously is relevant to Great Britain as well, since Elvis Costello is currently doing a version of the song):
It was later
than I thought
when I first believed you
now I can not share your laughter
Ship of Fools
From the Mars Hotel continued the Dead's excellent string of albums released since 1970. But waiting in the wings were Blues for Allah and Steal Your Face.
COMPLIMENTS - 1974 Jerry Garcia)
Compliments has only one new Hunter tune, "Midnight Town." The rest of the songs show Garcia's exquisite taste in cover material and his ability to make standard and non-standard material sound fresh. Roaming through tunes by Chuck Berry, Irving Berlin, Dr. John, Van Morrison, the Stones, Peter Rowan, Smokey Robinson and Albert Washington, Compliments is as excellent an execution of this sort that I've heard (compare it to David Bowie's Pin-Ups, for example). Major credit should go to John Kahn who produced this album with a unified concept in mind. His subtle use of horns and keyboards throughout, and the (unlisted) band's unique rhythm arrangements keep Compliments from sounding retrograde; in fact, the diverse product is so successfully unified that "Let it Rock," "When the Hunter Gets Captured by the Game" and "Russian Lullaby" sound as if they could have been written by the same person during a heavy influx of inspiration. The highlights are the new slant given to Berry's "Let it Rock;" the delicate rendering of "When the Hunter Gets Captured by the Game," a song I wouldn't have expected Garcia to pull off particularly well; and Doctor John's "What Goes Around," which is perfectly tailored to Garcia's talents.
The only low point is "Let's Spend the Night Together." An overrated song with a monotonous chorus, the Stones' tune has grown rather quaint over the years.
There are only a few guitar solos: Garcia obviously found no reason to push hard on product this well-written. This is a good, neglected record.
TALES OF THE GREAT RUM RUNNERS - 1974 (Robert Hunter)
When it get down to it, It's kind of like trading bubblegum cards. The card that means a lot to you might not mean a lot to me. I'll trade you one Diamond Dogs (David Bowie), one 461 Ocean Blvd. (Eric Clapton), one Street Legal (Dylan), one On the Beach (Nell Young) and one Good Ol' Boys (Randy Newman) for one Tales of the Great Rum Runners.
Sure Hunter doesn't sing too well. But he gets pretty close to sounding like Johnny Cash on "Boys in the Barroom," "Dry Dusty Road," "Keys to the Rain" and the title cut. And the writing is good enough to stick in your mind. "I Heard You Singin'" is a great song, but sensitive souls are bound to run for cover.
Admittedly, Hunter's untrained vocal enthusiasm capsizes "Maybe She's a Bluebird " and "Arizona Lightnin'." But the best songs on this album vindicate his efforts . This music should be heard - "Tales of the Great Rum Runners," "Boys in the Barroom," "Children's Lament" and "Standing at the Door" are stubbornly unique and about as good as lyrics can be expected to get.
SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET: THE BEST OF THE GRATEFUL DEAD - 1974
The first "Best of" collection from the Dead was compromised not only by the nature of this type of record (i.e. "Best of" often means "Most popular"), but also by the democratic character of the band which goes out of its way to include "Mexicali Blues" and "One More Saturday Night" from Bob Weir's "solo" album, and an edited down version of Pigpen's "Turn on Your Lovelight" (reduced from fifteen to six minutes). Perplexing is the inclusion of a remixed "Rosemary." The record is a good mish-mash of material; the second side is fun in a raggedy sort of way - the edit of "Lovelight" works as a compact version of the album cut, and Bob Weir's solo songs actually were Dead material and showcase fine writing and playing. The album also includes "Uncle John's Band," "Casey Jones," "St. Stephen," "Truckin'," and "Golden Road (to Unlimited Devotion)." As early as 1974, the Dead were on the high road of artistic endeavor and an album of this sort could hardly be expected to encapsulate the band's many fine moments.
BLUES FOR ALLAH - 1975
Blues for Allah is a big, chocolate candy bar record. It sounds so good, but by the time it's over you may not remember hearing it. The songs blend into a soft, low-key haze. "Help on the Way, "Franklin's Tower," "The Music Never Stopped" and "Crazy Fingers" seem to be intended as ephemeral statements with ultimate meaning remaining just out of reach. Possibly the Dead were interested in escaping quasi-realistic lyrics as they pursued free-flowing, jazzy impressionism, a style more suited, perhaps, to Hunter's thoughtful philosophical reflections. This would be fine if the music was more enticing and the songs more fun. If you bother to count the brief "Sand Castles and Glass Camels," and the mood-swinging, second part of Crazy Fingers," there are five instrumentals on this record. The Dead could have pulled off a major coup of some sort if they had went all instrumental on Blues for Allah, but, as it is, the songs get in the way of the music and vice versa. This is the Dead at their most somber. Just think what it'd be like if they were this way all the time?
Half of Blues for Allah is good, though not necessarily easy to get excited about. "Crazy Fingers" is the best of the actual songs. It's a reggae-tinged tune played lightly; a peaceful surface hides scary thoughts:
Beneath the
sweet calm face of the sea
Swift undertow
Life may be sweeter for this, I don't know
See how it feels in the end
There's delicate guitar work, as usual, and keyboard vamping ends "Crazy Fingers " memorably.
As for the jazzy instrumentals, the fuzz guitar on "Slipknot" is indifferently laid over the top of a weak arrangement. The odd-metered interplay - the "slipknot theme " - is a good technical exercise, but it doesn't save the whole thing.
"Stronger Than Dirt, or Milkin' the Turkey" is more melodic and more integrated. It starts and ends like it could be Santana's rhythm section, but everything in between is weird, weird, weird. There are snatches of melodies from identifiable tunes, but they seem to have been taken apart and put back together in queer ways. There's a lot of personality in this dazzling display - it's music from another dimension - hip jazz cats are sometimes this disorienting.
"Sage and Spirit" boasts lovely acoustic guitar and flute. Enjoyable, but weightless.
"Blues for Allah" can be divided into three distinct parts. The first section should be better: the droning vocal harmony never quite attains the exotic flavor it seems to be striving for, and, as chanting, it's melodically contrived. The ending seems tacked on and redundant. The long instrumental in the middle, "Sand Castles and Glass Camels," is everything it should be: astonishingly simple, it uses single-note trills on bass and guitar, steady tabla-based percussion and the simplest keyboard coloring to establish a vivid, night-in-the-desert tapestry of sound. The "Blues for Allah" melody that appears like a mirage in the middle of this is the stuff of genius. Both psychedelic transformation and realistic musical conjuring of exotic scenes exist in the very strange byways of this performance.
Blues for Allah wasn't a bad album in the way other albums of the day seemed lifeless and boring - David Bowie's Young Americans, for example, or George Harrison's Extra Texture. By now, the Dead's playing style had it's own intrinsic interests for the musical adventurer. I wouldn't recommend anybody start with Blues for Allahif they are interested in the Dead, but when they end up here, it's not a bad place to be.
KEITH AND DONNA - 1975
Pick it up if you can find it. The Godchaux's talents are put to good use. Keith couldn't sing all that well, but it works on "Woman Make You" and "Showboat" which are stylized to turn his vocal weaknesses into colloquial, idiosyncratic charm. His piano is great throughout, going from Leon Russell-ish acoustic drama, to New Orleans funk, to ragtime rhythm. His keyboard "baby-talking" on "Sweet Baby" is a standout.
Donna's strengths are obvious. Her rich, low voice is killer, although her highs can fall hard on the ears. Her performance on "My Love for You" is boring, but "River Deep, Mountain High," "Sweet Baby," "When You Start to Move" and, to a lesser extent, "Every Song I Sing" show an enticing style never encouraged by the Dead.
Garcia's on board for a few solos, and the Chrissy Stewart/Denny Sewell rhythm section is big, fat and fun.
STEAL YOUR FACE - 1976 (Live)
Taken from performances recorded in 1974 during five nights at the Winterland, Steal Your Face was released to complete the Dead's contract with United Artists. The Grateful Dead Family Album notes that Steal Your Face was known as the "nightmare" album among certain members of the band. Whether that means it was rushed, or rejected by band members, is unclear, but the result is inferior product (especially considering the large amount of steller shows floating around by 1976). Steal Your Face isn't downright bad, but for a band as heavily documented as the Dead, there was obviously some strange trip going on to end up with an album like this one.
Most of the album was made up of standard tunes; the rest was, for the most part, material recently written and recently recorded by the Dead. "Promised Land," " Ship of Fools," "Beat It On Down the Line," and "U.S. Blues" are mediocre. "Black Throated Wind" has such a bad vocal mix, it's hard to see why it was included. The Dead often take their songs to new levels when they play live, but this album seems to be made up of performances that didn't make it (or barely). Three standards , "El Paso," "Round and Round," and "Big River," are given the Dead treatment and they are upbeat, lively and respectable.
"Casey Jones" and "Cold Rain and Snow" top previous studio incarnations in a big way; and "Stella Blue, " "Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo" and "Sugaree" have their moments; but overall Steal Your Face lacks energy and excitement .
REFLECTIONS - 1976 (Jerry Garcia)
Reflections was the third solid Jerry Garcia solo album In a row. On five of the songs the Dead gang is present. On the other three, Garcia is helped out by a crack band that includes the illustrious Nicky Hopkins on keyboards, and the unsung expertise of Ron Tutt and John Kahn on drums and bass.
Reflections is an interesting album in that it seems to consciously work towards subverting some of Hunter's and Garcia's heavier themes. It's optimistic for the most part - even Hank Ballard's "Tore Up Over You" is light on its feet. "Mission in the Rain" and "Comes a Time" are ostensibly about despair. But Hunter is talking about hope and an empty cup only love can fill on "Comes a Time; and "Mission" has a narrator whose pride hasn't been extinguished despite the hardest of hard times.
"Might as Well," "They Love Each Other," "I'll Take a Melody" and "Catfish John" are decidedly lighthearted. "They Love Each Other" is an unequivocal, unabashed love song. Garcia's and Hunter's stance is almost one of disbelief at the love affair at the center of the story, but the chorus - "Oh, you know it's true" - doesn't argue the fact. The rhythm is a patented Dead groove, another classic beat never heard before. A good solo helps, and the drumming is stately. "They Love Each Other" is one of the Dead's overlooked classics.
Equally good is "I'll Take a Melody," a cover of the quirky Allen Toussaint masterpiece. Nicky Hopkin's trademark piano arpeggios mixed with Garcia's picking make a great sound combination. There is love and care in the arrangement. Toussaint's song is put together section by section and each sequence is delightful, even the connecting riffs and vamps are wonderful. A New Orleans riverboat rhythm chugs toward glory.
"Catfish John," possibly an old bluegrass tune, has a wah-solo by Garcia that takes a bubbly-watery approach, and Garcia's happy voice shines through his instrument. Donna's harmony vocal gives "Catfish John" a lazy sheen and the song's pastoral memories are carefully evoked.
"Might as Well" is a rocker written by Hunter, commemorating the Medicine Ball Caravan, a group of performers including the Dead, the Band and Delaney and Bonnie, who, in the early seventies, rode on a train through Canada, stopping along the way to give concert performances. Hunter obviously had a good time and "Might as Well " intelligently adds to his long line of train songs. It's a good rock & roll tune .
"Mission in the Rain" is a perfect example of why Hunter and Garcia are such a great team. Two little words make all the difference in the miniature world depicted in this song. It's hard to pin down, but I'll try:
A man, down on his luck, seeks shelter in a mission then continues wandering around the city. The chorus is "Walkin' along the Mission in the rain. 'Come again'." The "come again" is placed at several odd places in the song: For example:
Someone
called my name
You know I turned around to see
It was midnight in the Mission
but the bells were not for me.
'Come again.
The 'Come again echoes in the character's mind as he leaves a church, perhaps a church shelter. The words act oddly on him, torment him. The homeless protagonist is disturbed by the conceit in the Mission worker's knowledge that he needs their help (and they need his soul). The Dead suggest that the Mission's helping hand, like the rain, are cyclical, but, though the poor are always with us, they do not give up their independence willingly. Salvation is apprehended as a compromise. Human nature remains deep, dark and elusive. This is a character and an idea concocted by fevered minds. Or maybe this is sheer misinterpretation.
DIGA - 1976 (Diga Rhythm Band)
Diga was released before David Bowie immodestly claimed credit for launching world-beat music and influencing Brian Eno in the process, and years before the release of The Talking Heads' Remain in Light, and before David Byrne's and Brian Eno's My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. This would be merely a footnote if the Diga Rhythm Band hadn't delivered a classic record. Mickey Hart produced, and participated in, this revolutionary percussion endeavor, which speaks well not only of him, but of San Francisco's cultural cosmopolitanism, in general.
Eleven percussionists perform on instruments including tablas, traps, vibes, marimbas , congas, bongos, gongs, etc. On "Tal Mala," ghostly vibes and a spooky talking drum start the music off slowly, but soon the tabla players are rattling off notes too fast to count. Snatches of melody float by. There's a sense of humanity in this flurry of percussion: the archaic rhythms speak of past cultures, events once important, yet the proceedings are playful in a distinctly modern way. The production technique serves as part of the instrumentation, precisely dropping percussion in and out of the mixes on "Tal Mala" and "Sweet Sixteen," and creating a hypnotic, surging and receding, wave of motion. The instruments swoop and poke and pan in glorious, stereophonic sound.
"Magnificent Sevens" may be the best track. Everything from Samurai movies to spaghetti westerns is conjured up in this epic imbroglio of grace and power.
As a real footnote, the "Fire on the Mountain" riff originated on this album on "Happiness is Drumming."
TERRAPIN STATION - 1977
The Dead's first effort for Arista was hardly cohesive. Side one is a total mismatch of songs. "Dancin' in the Streets" and "Samson and Delilah" are uninspired covers. "Passenger" is a sketch of a song; it's over before it arrives anywhere. "Sunshine," a song Donna Godchaux wrote about an American Indian funeral ceremony she attended, is clumsily worded, beautifully sung, but not quite as haunting as it should be.
"Estimated Prophet" is the big song on side one. A tale of a preacher who is spewing apocalyptic rhetoric, Garcia's horn-like luster on his wah-pedal gives a demented bent to the proceedings and instills the protagonist with dumb intensity. "Estimated Prophet" moves in mood from joyous, rapturous harmony ("fire wheel burnin' in the sky") to mean-spirited misanthropy ("I'll call down thunder and speak the same... Don't worry about me now/I don't need nobody"). Bob's proselytizing is harsh, and the backup singing is glorious. When the horns and harmonica come in, the song goes to heaven.
Side two is one hell of a song. "Terrapin Station" is thematically complex, but moves lithely. Sixteen minutes long, it's a seamless blend of melody and rhythm. The song starts with a pseudo-fable or anti-fable and it ends with music of motion. The anti--fable establishes nothing, but the music is determined, unstoppable. It's a long way from rock & roll, but it's as simple and lucid as "Heartbreak Hotel."
"Terrapin Station" is set up by "The Lady and the Fan." Robert Hunter tells the story of a storyteller telling a fable of years past. The storyteller conjures up his characters from a fire - a lady, a soldier and a sailor. The Lady throws her fan into a lion's den; whomever retrieves it wins her hand. The Sailor goes for it, but the Soldier bows out. When the Sailor returns, the Lady welcomes his act of courage (or foolishness). Suddenly the story flickers out:
The
storyteller makes no choice
soon you will not hear his voice
his job is to shed light
And not to master...
Faced with mysteries dark and vast
statements just seem vain at last
The music hunkers down and starts heading towards a definite destination.\
With nothing
to believe in
the compass always points to Terrapin\
Terrapin Station is on the dark side of the moon. There's a slow-motion description of the place, and the song breaks down into a series of instrumentals. "Terrapin Transit," "At a Siding" and "Terrapin Flyer" are Imaginative excursions into the poetry of motion. "At a Siding" is Copland-esque in its New Frontier melodiousness and the percussion vividly portrays human endeavor, shoulder to the wheel of imagination. The Dead are adroit enough to see the sense in ending "Terrapin Station" in transit. This work is highly ambitious in theme, in its use of classical polyphony and in the rock & roll smarts of the Dead's execution of this canon-like material. The virtuosity is effortless.
"Terrapin Station" and "Estimated Prophet" prevent the album from being a lack-luster effort. They provide almost thirty minutes of excellent playing time. Both songs are among the best songs of 1977; "Terrapin Station" is at the top of the list. Once derided for the producer's use of stings on "Terrapin Station," the song now seems a charmingly singular performance. Garcia's vocal is at its recorded best here and his melody is beautiful.
WHAT A LONG STRANGE TRIP IT'S BEEN - 1977
Okay. It's 1977 and they let me put together a Best of the Dead collection, but I'm not allowed to use anything that hasn't previously been released.
Side One - "Jack Straw," "Loser," "Me & My Uncle," "Candyman," "Pride of Cucamonga ," "Easy Wind."
Side Two - "China Cat Sunflower," "Ripple" "Feedback," "Wharf Rat," "Unbroken Chain. "
Side Three - "Cassidy," "Bertha," "Sugar Magnolia" "They Love Each Other," "Scarlet Begonias. "
Side Four - "Dark Star" (Live/Dead).
On second thought ...
SHAKEDOWN STREET - 1978
If Shakedown Street isn't great Dead, it's okay Dead and small qualities made a difference in a year when the old guard were falling on their faces. In fact, the best product released in 1978 wasn't by the Rolling Stones (Some Girls), the Who (Who Are You), Bob Seger (Stranger in Town), Nell Young (Comes a Time), Bob Dylan (Street Legal), Lou Reed (Street Hassle), Bruce Springsteen (Darkness on the Edge of Town), et al. Some of the best product was put out by bands and artists in the shady area of popularity who are always neglected in the long run. Albums and artists worth another look include Jethro Tull (Heavy Horses), Bob Marley and the Wailers (Kaya), Burton Cummings (Dreams of a Child - what a nice voice that guy has), Little Feat (Waiting for Columbus), Graham Parker (Stick to Me), among others. I would add Shakedown Street to this list just for the pleasures of the Dead's ensemble style.
Circa 1978, none of the other bands listed above, with the possible exception of Little Feat, Marley and Jethro Tull, had a rhythm section operating at the same level as the Dead's seductive rhythm section. I realize there are some highly regarded rhythm sections on this list, but what they were doing was tried and true. What Kreutzmann, Hart, Lesh, Weir, Godchaux and Garcia were doing on "France," "Serengetti," "Stagger Lee" and "Good Lovin'" still showed a sense of exploration and new ground covered. The playing is often more intricate, more colorful, more original, more expressive, more fun.
Lowell George was borrowed from Little Feat to produce Shakedown Street. Little Feat shared many things with the Grateful Dead: love of improvisation, rhythmic complexity, a behind-the-beat sense of drama; both bands drew their inspiration from the same mass of material, and neither band wrote hit singles. But Little Feat stuck pretty close to elegant boogie when the Dead was recording Blues for Allah and other oddities. Lowell George was a good choice to redirect the Dead onto safer (more lucrative) by-ways. Nobody can say the Dead weren't trying. Shakedown Street might be considered an qualified success if this were any other band. But it 's the Dead and, despite all the structural prettiness and state-of--the-art sonic spendor, something is missing.
Take "Good Lovin'," for instance: it's as good a version as I've heard, perhaps topping the original in many ways excluding straight ahead ballsy beauty. The drums and percussion are pushed out front so much they almost overwhelm the song, but it's pretty good interactive playing. Yet when the band's rhythm is pulled up to the even-handed level of other bands, it loses its unique touch. "Good Lovin'" with its stressed rhythm becomes cloying, but the middle piano/guitar break is astonishingly effortless; seasoned professionals can accomplish something like this if they concentrate hard enough. The end breakdown is also good; the Dead could carry it on for another ten minutes if they wanted.
There's good musicianship all over Shakedown Street, and the style has bite. The Dead were speaking to their audience and to their generation (the ones who were listening) on "Fire on the-Mountain" and "Shakedown Street." The latter uses a "disco" beat - the sturdy, bass/snare 4/4 with splashing hi-hat work - to create a searching, restless rhythm which guides us on a trip through the post sixties Haight-Ashbury (?) district of San Francisco in an attempt to find signs of intelligent life:
Nothin'
shakin' on Shakedown Street
used to be the heart of town
Don't tell me this town ain't got no heart
You just gotta poke around
Garcia's vocal is sympathetic, yet uncompromising and Hunter's lyrics bypass a nostalgic view of the sixties:\
Maybe you had
too much too fast
and just overplayed your part
Maybe the dark is in your eyes
You know you got such dark eyes
On "Fire on the Mountain" a recognition of complacency leads to a scolding to get up and take care of overdue business, while you have a chance:
Takes all you
got just to stay on the beat
You say it's a living, we all gotta eat...
There's a dragon with matches loose on the town
Take a whole pail of water just to cool him down
"Fire on the Mountain" is a bit stunted; it was often great in concert. As it is, this verse/chorus arrangement is a farily restricted performance.
Shakedown Street never sinks into mediocrity. "France," "Serengetti," and " Stagger Lee" are all musically exciting. The basic workouts "I Need a Miracle" and " All New Minglewood Blues" show sharp maneuvering within strict formats.
As for "From the Heart of Me," there are worse things to do than listening to Donna Godchaux's singing. This is pure romanticism of a kind the boys never get into; it's a smooth and warm performance of a melodically undisciplined nature. Her voice is in good company.
Some music critics, with their hidden agendas and subversive missions, have been as bad as the CIA. Looking back at the review of Shakedown Street in Village Voice, one finds a reviewer so preoccupied with proving Bob Weir's "sexist" inclinations - epitomized, it is argued, by the change in Bob Weir's image from sixties hippie to cowboy stud - that he forgets to review the album (a common trait among many reviewers). The songs are barely mentioned, let alone inspected. Since this reviewer was representing a cause, rather than reality, he doesn't bother to mention that Shakedown Street contains only two songs co-written by Weir (Hunter wrote the lyrics for "France;" Weir wrote the music). "France" doesn't have a trace of misogyny, and "I Need a Miracle" is a character sketch using a traditional blues narrative format to get it's point across. Also unmentioned in the review is Hunter's and Garcia 's "Stagger Lee," which is an effective, anti-sexist, statement turning the Stagger Lee myth on its head.
It's also hard to believe the Dead were once accused of capitulations to disco music based on two songs: "Shakedown Street" and "Dancin' in the Streets" (the latter from Terrapin Station. "Dancin'" was too strange to qualify as disco and "Shakedown Street" was too imaginative. In retrospect, almost everything about Shakedown Street was misread and misunderstood. It is hard to find musicianship of this caliber on anything else released in 1978. It's worth another look, though high expectations are probably not the way to approach it.
CATS DOWN UNDER THE STARS - 1978 (Jerry Garcia Band)
Nothing on this album has found its way into the Dead's repertoire. In situations like this one can't help wondering how hard it can be to put eight good songs on a record. Considering that the first three Garcia solo albums were good spin-offs from Dead product, there was really no reason to expect this album to be significantly worse.
Cats Down Under the Stars begins eloquently with a long, ambitious Hunter saga about two lovers, "Rubin and Cherise," who are musicians and dancers in a Mardi Gras parade. The carnival setting and surreal symbolism are well within Hunter' s grasp. It's a romantic piece with effective imagery: "Like waves against the bandstand dancers broke." The melody spills all over the place; Garcia's structural complexity is never unwieldy. His style here is intricately varied and pleasantly unpredictable. John Kahn's synthesized keyboards play against the circus organ stereotype, and his brassy sounds add plush style to the song. Cherise worries that Rubin may be in love with someone else. Rubin, knowing it to be true, comforts her with lies. A moral is drawn:
The truth of love an unsung song must tell
The last images are fragile ones. Cherise's dependency is chillingly pathetic:
Rubin walked
the streets of New Orleans
Cherise so lightly in his arms and her hair
The title tune, "Cats Down Under the Stars," tries for the same expansive feel of "Rubin and Cherise," but it's looser and it's not much of a story. The boring chorus kills it for me; the solo is nice, but doesn't move the song anywhere. The theme is a big one, as the title insinuates; but "Cats Down Under the Stars," as an attempt to compare an improvised life to improvised music, has a weak arrangement. It should work, but it doesn't, although there are a ton of possibilities in "Time is a stripper/doin' it just for you." It's the Dead's domain, but "Cats" meanders.
"Down Home" is good, but irrelevant. It's a hummed melody, harmonized; there are no words. A small conceit.
The retold Bible story, "Gomorrah," which inspects the myth of Lot and his wife, has a lot of potential as a Dead song, but it is too skeletal here.
On "Rain," the strings, and Donna's voice on the verse/verse/verse/verse/verse structure, are nice.
But even with the few qualified exceptions, it's a struggle to work up enthusiasm.
HEAVEN HELP THE FOOL - 1978 (Bob Weir)
Weir dallied in Los Angeles, under the influence of Arista, and produced this quintessential L.A. album. Weir adapted easily and his professionalism probably made it a smooth job for Waddy Wachtel, Mike Porcaro, Tom Scott, David Paich and the rest of the L.A. session-man Mafia to do their stuff. The results are clean, efficient arrangements with a little more spice in the tracks than is usual on these fishing-for-hits endeavors. Heaven Help the Fool was released in 1978, when rock was considered to be in its decadent stage (little did we know). Albums of a certain sort were casually labeled MOR (middle of the road) and dismissed contemptuously, and subtlety was often overlooked. The sentiments on Heaven Help the Fool were hardly MOR. Weir poked fun at the Mormons on " Salt Lake City," ("makes Des Moines look second rate"); covered Lowell George's ode to lethargy, "Easy to Slip;" wrote a saga about leading the "good life" in Southern California (the sophisticated and eloquent "Heaven Help the Fool"); and added a hard edge to "Shade of Grey," a look at dog-eat-dog life on city streets as observed from a safe hotel room. Along the way, Weir delivered the hit (minor), "Bombs Away ."
Weir has always flirted with the commercial side of the business. His songs for Kingfish and Bobby and the Midnights have a gleaming, hook- ridden, pop quality different from his work with the Dead. On Heaven Help the Fool, his extensive chord structures seem at home in the L.A. environment of technical studio wizardry. It is to his credit that, with all the session talent around, he still plays guitar, even contributing early slide guitar work on "Salt Lake City."
The arrangements are good - varied, but simple - no strings anywhere. The gothic organ/piano has weight; the musicianship is pleasantly faceless, serving Well's jaded world view with restraint. Heaven Help the Fool reveals Weir 's personality in a roundabout way - he's not a lovable sort of guy, but he sure can tell a story. "Bombs Away," "Easy to Slip," "Shade of Grey," "Heaven Help the Fool," "Salt Lake City," and "This Time Forever," are all worthy songs. Only the Marvin Gaye cover "I'll be Doggone," and the awkward "Wrong Way Feelin'," fall below Weir's high standards.
GO TO HEAVEN - 1980
If the first two tunes were better, I'd almost feel comfortable calling Go To Heaven a Grateful Dead classic. But then I'd have to sell the idea that "Lost Sailor" and "Saint of Circumstance" are great songs, even though they display Bob Weir's complex arrangements carried to maniacal extremes. The choruses keep dissolving and the direction keeps changing; the bass and keyboards are wondrous, but the rock & roll crowd just won't wait for it to happen.
Regardless: Side two is perfect. Brent Mydland's pop soulfulness on "Easy to Love You" is impossible to resist. It's swooning, pop elegance. "Don't Ease Me In" is an old song given the Dead treatment and shows, once again, how the Dead ethos fits right into the blues/rock tradition. The lyric could have been written by Hunter in simple mode: "I was standin' on the corner/Talkin' to Miss Brown/When I turned around, sweet mama/She was way across town/So I'm walking down the street/With a dollar in my hand/I've been lookin' for a woman, sweet mama/I ain't got no friend/ Don 't ease me in."
"Easy to Love You" and "Don't Ease Me In" are counterpoints to Bob's more inspired, idiosyncratic triumphs with "Lost Sailor" and "Saint of Circumstance." These were a couple of the most complex song arrangements in this genre that could be found circa 1980. A tale of alienation, Weir and Barlow let us know, "there's a price for being free." A sailor drifts aimlessly at sea until the Siren calls of the shoreline beckon. The sailor's brush with civilization has been a long time coming, but it is perfunctory, anti-climactic. Using "Ulysses" ironically, there is no heroism involved in the sailor's departure, barely a struggle. What should hold him? Tlie ramifications of the character's dilemma are many.
Side one is problematic. "Feel Like a Stranger" has state-of-the-art playing, which redeems it somewhat. And the lyrics may express both the Dead's distance from their audience and their shared common ground. But it's a little joyless in conception and lacks the haunting, dreamy, seductive variety of emotion that "Lost Sailor " delivers.
Mydland's "Far From Me" simply fails to be a Dead song. And it is without the compensations of the craftsmanship and pop simplicity found on "Easy To Love You."
"Alabama Getaway" has a lyric that never develops. My guess is the story was originally a lot longer, but, in transferring the lyrics onto this rock & roll format, the Dead shortened the narrative to make it fit. It's hard to tell what the song is about, although the playing is good enough and Brent's and Jerry's solos are strong .
"Althea" is the centerpiece of side one. It's a tale about two flawed, touchy people looking for love:
I told Althea
I was feeling lost
Lacking in some direction
Althea told me upon scrutiny
my back might need protection.
I told Althea
that treachery
was tearing me limb from limb
Althea told me: Now cool down boy -
settle back easy, Jim
"Althea" contains hypnotic blues riffing on Garcia's part, absolutely beautiful playing. Lesh's bass is effortlessly doomed and uncertain. A great performance.
The Dead, with Go To Heaven, started off the decade forcefully. But there was a lot going on at the time, and, as usual, it was the Dead's work that was overlooked and underrated.
RECKONING - 1981
The Dead went semi-acoustic on Reckoning, which doesn't deconstruct the Dead style, but certainly changes the sound. As an electric band, the Dead are a huge, dense machine. They execute kaleidoscopic music that is light on it's feet and multi\-colored. On Reckoning, the acoustic instrumentation limits the usual individual options of the musicians, and the result is, in part, songs with an opaque density and leaden instrumentation.
"The Race Is On" is nowhere near as fun as the wailing, George Jones version (though the racy rhythm is admirable). "Oh Babe It Ain't No Lie" and "It Must Have Been The Roses," performed in dirge-time, lay side by side on side one. The former has a cluttered, smothered arrangement and an incomprehensible vocal of Garcia. It has much in common with "Roses."
Too many of the other covers are good without being particularly refreshing. For instance, "Dark Hollow," "Jack-A-Roe" and "Rosalie McFall" are respectable efforts, but have been done better elsewhere. This quality extends, as well, to a few of the Dead's own songs, "Dire Wolf" and "China Doll." A couple of the tunes - "On the Road Again" and "Monkey and the Engineer" - seem good choices to energize a live performance, but, included on record, they seem negligible, unimportant.
Reckoning does have its moments. Garcia is utterly convincing, and charming, as a mountaineer on "Been All Around This World." And the band is good at depicting the emotional terrain of "Deep Elem Blues." There are also strong versions of " Cassidy," "Bird Song" and "Ripple." On "Cassidy" and "Bird Song," the Dead's big sound remains intact. "Too Lay Me Down" has a gem of a solo by Garcia.
Which makes Reckoning somewhat of a disappointment. Almost a decade after Reckoning, Jerry Garcia would tackle the same type of material, in the same manner, but to better effect, on his Almost Acoustic project.
DEAD SET - 1981
Dead Set is a five-star classic, a live album of sublime proportions. Of the fifteen songs included on this masterwork, only three hadn't been previously released on record by the Dead- "Little Red Rooster," "Rhythm Devils," and "Space." Continually amazing is the Dead's ability to improve upon already great material. "New Minglewood Blues" gets a definitive treatment; combined with "Little Red Roosters" soulful strut, these two songs show how far the Dead can go beyond the formula blues interpretation of artists like the Rolling Stones and Eric Clapton.
The Dead add new luster to the characters from "Deal," "Candyman," and "Loser." And hearing Garcia struggle to top his original, perfect solo on "Candyman" is alone worth the price of this album.
Where were the critics circa 1981 when this illustrious set was recorded? They were arguing over PIL, the Jam, the Stranglers and Patti Smith (a Grateful Dead fan).
RUN FOR THE ROSES - 1982 (Jerry Garcia Band)
Much of Run for the Roses seems like filler, or leftover tracks from better sessions. On "I Saw Her Standing There," the slide actually sounds listless; this Beatles' song has a reputation it's best not to fool with unless you at least have something to offer. "Without Love" offers a horrid vocal performance and borders on sacrilege. "Leave the Little Girl Alone" is incredibly mindless "rock & roll. " Where did this stuff come from?\
Which leaves the reputation of the album resting precariously on the minor virtues of "Run for the Roses," "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," and "Midnight Getaway." The only major virtue is "Valerie," a slow blues tune with a beautifully sung lyric . The guitar is tasty. The protagonist is a mean bastard, but his predicament is even more pathetic because of his strengths. This song isn't the least bit complex . It's as pure and simple as "I Want to Hold Your Hand" or "You Really Got Me," only it's different.
Run for the
money
Caught short on the rent\
Big Ideas but
the money's all spent...
The trouble with love is its other face
You just want the cup
you don't want the race
Whenever Garcia uses the wah-pedal, you have to listen. Garcia's forlorn, yet sympathetic rhythm is perfect for "Run for the Roses which deals with life's dissatisfactions. There is nothing ground\-breaking on this song except for Garcia 's forthright musicianship, but it is enjoyable.
"Midnight Getaway" is an as-I-pondered-weak--and-weary set piece. It's a horrific story about a man listening as his wife leaves for what it probably the last time. You can feel the loss as Hunter adds up details: the fumbled keys, the lock, the steps ( they are counted as years), the cat, the sighs, the rustling, the car door, the motor fading in the night. It's a masterpiece of sheer terror.
If "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" was any better there would be a whole side of Run for the Roses worth talking about. But this version Isn't as good as other Dead versions on some tapes I've heard. It's lax and takes a long time to get going. The groove gets old fast. Garcia's arrangement seems asleep at the wheel which pretty much characterizes Run for the Roses.
AMAGAMALIN STREET - 1984 (Robert Hunter)
Mixing minimalist, sub-folk arrangements with detailed writing focusing on character, Hunter pulled off an ambitious, extended work of the sort that could be ventured only by someone inspired outside contemporary music commercialism. A two album narrative that harkens back to what used to be called rock opera - a genre disparaged almost before it began, and long before it reached its peak - Amagamalin Street is a welcome and successful undertaking.
For anyone who has ever pondered the life of certain hardcore street people, Amagamalin Street paints a convincing dramatic picture. At time recalling Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Jerry Jeff Walker, Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson, Hunter's story is split into two parts. The first record is narrated by Chet, a happy-go-lucky womanizer and alcoholic. The songs recount the end of Chet's relationship with Roseanne, a girlfriend whom he's guided into prostitution. Along the way we meet Chet's new love, Maggie - a dropout from better things - and Murphy, a Vietnam veteran who remains calm in the middle of these stormy and violent relationships. There are plenty of Hunter's Dead elements in the story: lots of rambling motion (from San Francisco to New York City to the Catskills); there are characters whose lives are ruled by good luck and band luck; and the fine distinction is again drawn between characters Hunter empathizes with (Chet and Maggie) and those he sympathizes with (Murphy and Roseanne).
Hunter's way with the story here is impressive - particularly his eliding of time, his use of colloquial dialogue and his mixture of points of view.
"Roseanne" is successful in its verdant accumulation of detail. "Gypsy Parlor Light" seems logically insightful as it digs deep into the psychology of a slipping mind - a psychology seldom depicted well even in longer forms of art. But dramatic musical effects kick into high gear during the poignant lecture "Don't Be Deceived," the giddy elation of "Better Bad Luck," the unrelenting "Face Me" and the haunting, yet hopeful, sentiment of the last song, "13 Roses." Amagamalin Street pushes folk/pop narrative to a unique extreme, and is rewarding every step of the way.
IN THE DARK - 1987
The Dead's first studio album in seven years, In The Dark was a welcome return. Included are various forms of blues, folk and rock & roll ("West L.A. Getaway," " Muddy River," "Hell in a Bucket"), and some idiosyncratic Dead music ("Throwing Stones," "Touch of Grey"). In The Dark is far from perfect. Brent Mydland is a brilliant musician. He is easily one of the best keyboard players in the business. But as a Dead songwriter, Mydland has often had to force his personality to make it fit into the Dead ethos. Sometimes he is successful, but on In The Dark his "Tons of Steel" is pretentiously mannered. It's a train song with lyrics comparing a train to a woman and to life. His line about the train being" more a bitch than a machine" reaches a low point in Dead lyrics. The music on "Tons of Steel" is streamlined, as it is throughout the album. Nowhere on In The Dark does the music rise to such heights as to become the prime force within the songs. "Muddy River" has a lyric that could have come off of American Beauty. It's a pretty song, full of well-rounded harmony singing, and indicative of Robert Hunter's approach to the "roll, river, roll" theme. There's nothing bad about the song, but the Dead play it so straight it's creepy. Garcia cruises through the solo. We've come to expect more from the Dead - something less "perfect," but more interesting.
"West L.A. Fadeaway" continues the safe approach, but the band packs so much slime into this hate-song, it rises above its Eagles-like, cynical-blues conventions. Corruption, greed, drugs, the mob and cheap sex are parts of the picture. The superlative guitar is the main reason this song heads into the stratosphere. Garcia manages a slithering, gooey lead that evokes senseless movement and moral corruption.
"When Push Comes to Shove" seems subversive and kind of mean. The chorus proclaims "you're afraid of love, when push comes to shove." Hunter lists, on this song, a litany of horrors befalling people who will do anything to avoid participating in the pain (and joy) of life. "Love" of the variety the Dead are talking about here, may not be all that desirable. Again, a straight forward musical quality characterizes "When Push Comes to Shove.
"Hell in a Bucket" and "Throwing Stones" are the centerpieces of the album, the former written by Weir, John Barlow and Mydland, the latter written by Weir and Barlow.
Both songs were misconstrued by critics at the time. "Hell in a Bucket" isn't hedonistic, it 's about hedonism and appeals to the demon in us all. The characters are immersed in verbal abuse, drugs and kinky sex, and the Dead play it as a fun rock & roll song. Garcia (or Weir) contributes irresistible, descending guitar licks on the chorus. There are some witty lines ("it's not like I'm leavin' you lonely/I wouldn't know where to begin"). The Dead did a video of "Hell in a Bucket" dressed in devil costumes. It's a seedy, tongue-in-cheek delight.
If it's typical of critics to point out what they imagine to be loose morals on "Bucket," it's also no surprise to see "Throwing Stones" described as pompous. But there is nothing pompous about this writing: it's a serious song with serious concerns:
Picture a
bright blue orb spinnin' free....
A peaceful place or so it looks from space
A closer look reveals the human race...
There's a fear down here we can't forget
Hasn't got a name just yet
Always awake, always around
Singing 'Ashes, ashes, all fall down...\
The darkness
never goes from some
men's eyes
Politicians are a source of greed and corruption; war is perpetuated by governments, not people. I don't see how a song can be pompous that points out these simple truths. "Throwin' Stones" is a potent warning. Of course, cynics will always be quick to point out that "the rich men in their summer homes" should be aimed back towards the Dead. (Do they own summer homes?) And it is disturbing to find out John Barlow has worked for the Republican Party. Even so, it seems unlikely the Dead will end up at the White House playing command performances. And none of this speculation matters much because "Throwing Stones" is a good song. It would be a great song if the middle break wasn't so weak: Garcia piddles through something that sounds like musical quotes from "Samson and Delilah" - the "if I had my way, I'd tear this old building down" riffs - which fit the song thematically, but aren't too exciting to hear. The drumming is sonorously compelling; Hart and Kreutzmann set up primitive, earthy rhythms. I like the way they don't have to resort to military rolls a la "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again" when they get to the war-drum part. I also like the way the rhythms shift and change from verse to verse. The end result is a strong Dead statement, and this time politics aren't ignored: "It's all too clear we're on our own."
"Touch of Grey" has been accepted as an anthem, but it's not one of Hunter's clearest lyrics. All the yuppies who bought this song probably thought it was some sort of sentimental assessment. And hearing lines like "a touch of grey/ kind of suits you anyway" adds to that illusion. But the Dead show only a little warmth, and the song is more than nostalgia:
I see you got
your list out
Say your piece and get out
Yes, I get the gist of it
but it's all right.
Sorry that you feel that way
The only thing there is to say
Every silver lining's got a
touch of grey
The lyrics are a good grumpy assessment about growing old. The playing is fine. For a band with a cult following, the Dead have written few easy anthems. Mystique and loyalty probably played the biggest part in the monetary success of In the Dark. For many people, a hit single meant the Dead had finally arrived; but, of course, they were still in transit.
BUILT TO LAST- 1989
A review can be written about Built to Last that encompasses all the things left out of the official reviews of the album. No mention was made of Garcia's synthesized trumpet/guitar effects on the title track. The intricate rhythm arrangement of "Picasso Moon" passed without comment. "Victim or the Crime" and its relation to Lou Reed's "Heroin" was unnoticed, although the Dead's sound effects and Garcia 's virtuoso performance made "Victim or the Crime" as important a piece of 1989 state-of-the-art songwriting as "Heroin" was in 1967. The polyphony of "Foolish Heart" was ignored, as were the lyrics on "Foolish Heart" and "Built to Last" which go to the core of the Dead experience:
A selfish
heart is trouble
But a foolish heart is worse
The reviewers commented only on what hit them in the face. The stunning, simplistic beauty of "Standing on the Moon" couldn't be brushed aside:
Standing on
the moon
Where talk is cheap and vision true
Standing on the moon
But I would rather be with you
Somewhere in San Francisco
On a back porch in July
Just looking up at heaven
At this crescent in the sky
Of course, the complex issues of "Picasso Moon" and "Victim or the Crime" were left alone. Which is too bad since Weir is trying so hard to get something tricky across to the listener:
Picasso Moon,
fractal flame
Blazing lace filling every frame
Picasso Moon, wheels within wheels
The bells are ringing, it's way unreal
Tryin' to tell y'all about just how it feels
And it's bigger than a drive-in movie
Superficial focus on Built to Last usually exaggerated Brent Mydland 's weaknesses as songwriter and singer. Mydland is a good singer and a great keyboard player and he's added a lot of muscle to the band. But "Blow Away" is a little too cynical and "professionally" structured for the Dead, and Mydland's sentimental ode to his daughter (which contradicts the cynicism of "Blow Away") is a solo piece outside of the Dead's influence. But Mydland's effective eco-anthem, "We Can Run," and, particularly, his perfectly Deadian "Just a Little Light, " which carries the Dead 's outsider themes to a dark, dreadful extreme, redeem any minor problems.
Built to Last had many high points. The question arises: what are reviewers for?
DYLAN AND THE DEAD - 1989
Definitely the most frustrating album of 1989. Don't let anybody tell you Dylan and the Dead are mismatched: this is the best live Dylan since Dylan's and the Band's Before the Flood. Those of you who follow these things will know that's not saying much: Dylan's half-dozen or so live albums since Before the Flood have been various shades of unlistenable.
All the right moves are here: "Slow Train Comin'" and "Serve Somebody" are rife with born again doom and gloom. Both songs are tonally scary: The Dead impart Dylan's proselytizing with a dramatic edge that elevates it above the preachy lecturing of the original versions of these songs. The Dead's slow train is an ominous, palpable entity backing up Dylan's rhetoric with authority. Unfortunately, Dylan mumbles "Slow Train Coming" and doesn't do much better with "Serve Somebody." Buried in the mix, the words are so much white noise.
"Joey" is a good Dylan song that's been unjustly maligned by the same sleepy people who call the Dead's lyrics "patchouli oil philosophy." An updating of Woody Guthrie's "Pretty Boy Floyd," "Joey" is so ironically deadpan that people have taken it at face value, thinking it tries to exonerate the mafia killer Joey Gallo. Lester Bangs even wrote an extended piece admonishing Dylan on the subject. Dylan knows the answer to his question, "What made them want to come and blow you away." "Joey" may have even been the bookend opposite the righteous "Hurricane" - it works as a sour exploration of the myth of the working class gangster and seems to reside squarely on the side of the law when all is said and done. Dylan's sentimental reading calls the authorial voice into question. But that is what the song is about, not what it sounds like here. Although the Dead are good at spicing up long songs, this is Dylan's show and, as his voice drones on and on, the Dead seem paralyzed behind him.
On a smaller scale, the same is true of "Queen Jane Approximately" and "I Want You."
On the other hand, "All Along the Watchtower" and "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" are nice. Dylan's forlorn, deathbed delivery of "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" is so tortured, you have to laugh at the guy's sincerity. Dylan's voice has taken a lot of knocks lately. Justly. But it rises occasionally to the task. It would have been great if Garcia's solo on "Knockin'" had lasted several bars longer. He's always been a more exciting player on the second or third series of sequences, rather than the first series, due perhaps as much to what the band can add when given the room to move as it is to Garcia's ability to get excited along with them. The Dead back up Dylan with the idea that less is more, and it works here. The ending tails off slowly and Dylan's character is left "knocking." There is no reason to believe the door will ever open. Typical Dead ideas that fit neatly into Dylan's often sinister way of seeing things.
Dylan gives a good reading of "All Along the Watchtower." His weary, descending note interpretation is full of fatality - it's all happened before - the storm really is approaching. A prophet's nightmare coming home. After all this time, Dylan can still sound angry. Garcia's competes with the ghost of Hendrix and he pulls out all the stops. It's a grand performance, perfectly suited for apocalypse.
But where's the rest of the tunes? They recorded many more than this. Feel cheated? Well, look forward to the Bootleg Tapes, Volume 15 arriving in 2035.
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