Dead Songs in Depth

    
Well, I don't want to drift this into too heavy a philosophical
debate, but my point is that there is a real danger that those of us
who practice certain non-dual wisdom traditions are fairly cognizant of
and try hard to help others avoid -- when you realize that
conventional reality is not at all a true reflection of ultimate
reality, you need to keep in mind that even though ultimately
everything is illusory, conventional reality is where we all dwell.  So
there is a point to doing stuff, the point being that we have no other
choice unless one is to climb a mountain, sit in a cave, enter into a
state of dhyana (meditative absorption), and whither away until one's
consciousness can separate from whatever is left of the body. 
Otherwise, you have to chop the wood, gather the fruits and veggies,
cook the meals, sweep the floors, mend the socks, and do lots and lots
of stuff every day.

There is, however, every reason to take the lessons of emptiness
(which is not that nothing exists, but that nothing inherently exists,
a huge distinction, and that how we tend to view the phenomenal world
is illusory), and understand there is no point trying to control
everything anymore, because that is just a form of attachment which is
what leads to suffering (since most attempts at control will fail,
leading to unhappiness, which is the state of suffering).

I'll leave the Gita statement alone -- I've drifted far enough down
the road of philosophical disputation.  My point is that I don't think
the song means what Michael suggested, but is closer to what I
suggested.

Albeit -- Michael's analytical framework is excellent.
  

    
Thanks, guys, for the great comments.  After my initial posting, I
realized that what I really meant was closer to what Neil said. 
Basically, the physical universe isn't the whole story...
  

    
More inclined to the naval protocol interpretation, which however may
be (most likely is) symbolic of something wider. My own fancy is that
the third verse is a lament regarding how everyone is supposed to do
their own task in the big picture, but things aren't working out that
way, no one's got the time, ending with an expressed wish to just drop
out and cross the big river in quest of something else.
  

    
Nice!
  

    
Remiss not to note the echo from Mother McRee's Uptown Jug Champions
in the title.
  

    
3-31-73 opens with Mississippi and Jerry sings "On the day that I was
born/Santa sat down and cried."

Merry Christmas!
  

    
just picturing "Santy" sitting there wondering, "What the hell am I
gonna get for Jerry this year?"
  

    
Well, the choices are pretty obvious, as well as a few difficult to
connect with.
  

    
Heh. I never thought of it as a seasonal tune but what do I know.
Several seasons with their reasons ...
  

    
I was listening to a Half-Step just yesterday (not sure but maybe 10/2/72) 
and Jerry sang

"Daddy sat down and died........"
  

    
Whoa, we'll have to check that out.
  

    
I always pictured the narrator "on tour" with this song. Cain, having
his mark from the day he was born: born to travel, born to be outside
"normal society." Cain was banished, "You will be a restless wanderer
on the earth" (Genesis 4:12). Cain is impulsive. didn't think twice.
Being impulsive and being banished from society are not necessarily bad
either, but hardships are certainly unavoidable.

The narrator then goes into the chorus, a shuffle about takin' off,
getting out, "See ya, Toodle-oo!" This guy is happy about his
"banishment" to be on the road, "I'm on my way, on my way!" The verse
about sealing the silver mine makes me think about forgetting the past
("the past is just a goodbye") and getting on with the only thing that
now makes sense: living in this out-of-sorts-reality away from the buzz
and hum of normality. Cain was marked to be on the road.
He traveled far and wide, so much so that he needed a retread. I just
can't get away from the expeirence lots of folks must have had on tour.

I like the nautical interpret on the third verse. The team work, no
one can sail a ship like this by themselves. I remember learning how to
paddle a conoe. Round and round in circles for some time til I got the
hang of it. 

The styrofoam cueball reminds me of being high on LSD and thinking
everything was hollow, there was air beneath the ground and street. We
were walking on styrofoam. If you jumped too hard you'd break thorugh.
In a land like that, you can't make too many plans ("we just ride").
And "no one's got the time." How important is time at a show anyway?

This whole song seems to be a portrait of a man on tour using biblical
metaphors. I also think it's wider than just being on tour, it's being
on the bus in general. The whole bus is styrofoam. God, I could get
off on everything being so dang flippy, flimsy, and surreal.
  

    
I'm new to The Well and am fascinated by the dissection here.  When I
think of "Mississippi Half-Step," I associate this song, more than any
other, with Keith Godchaux's piano and why, during this period of The
Dead, Jerry Garcia convinced the band to invite Donna and Keith to
join. The song, more than any other Dead number I can think of,
showcases Keith at his Southern honky-tonk piano best. I wonder if the
lyrics--the "rock and rye"--were written partly to showcase his
playing.    
  

    

Hey, Scott - welcome!
  

    
WeLLcome Scott!!
  

    
Thanks for the warm greetings!  I look forward to the discussions here
and elsewhere.
  

    
Again, very WeLLcome! This is a great place to chat.
  

    
Hi, Scott. Welcome!
  

    
You just gotta poke around!   Ooops, guess that should be in the Shakedown 
topic........
  

    
Hiya, Scott!
  

    

Scott is the author of a book that looks pretty interesting, "The Hippie
Narrative."  He's going to be interviewed about it in <inkwell.vue> next
month.
  

    
Hello Scott, and welcome--I'm enjoyng your postings very much.
  

    
Thanks David and David. Hey, Gary.  It's refreshing to talk about Dead
lyrics in the same way creative writing students workshop submitted
poems.  (Imagine Robert Hunter sitting in the room, not allowed to
speak as the discussion takes place.  Ironically, in real life, true
poet and master of ambiguity that he is, Hunter doesn't prefer to
clarify, even when prompted for explanation.)  

And, yes, what a great opportunity to share my new book with others
who have an avid appreciation for the social dynamics of the '60s and
'70s counterculture. I'm looking forward to our discussion on this
dynamic as seen through the great literature of the period.  For what
it's worth, I went to a birthday dinner tonight for my suddenly 29
year-old son.  I asked him if he had heard of Salon.com, and without
prompting, he said, "yeah, Salon.com, and Inkwell. I've heard of it."  

April 4-18, I've been told. I'll do my best Pacific Northwest Hippie
Half-Step Back-to-the-Land Toodleloo!

Scott   
  

    
I'm looking forward to your inkwell conversation, Scott.  As well as
Nick Meriwether's which is also next month!

And I agree whole-heartedly about the centrality of Keith in the sound
of Mississippi Half-Step.
  

    
The Story of the Exiled Underdog

The lyric is from Cain's perspective and follows the biblical story
rather well.

1st Stanza: Cain had a "mark." In Genesis 4:15 this mark was form God
and would protect him in his exile in the land of Nod (Genesis 4:16; a
very interesting name for a land if I may say so). Abel "rolled loaded
dice" and had an "ace behind his ear" because he offered the right
sacrifice to God. He knew the secret of pleasing God; however, he did
not share that info with his own brother, Cain. Abel didn't "think
twice" about the position that would invariably put his brother in.
This of course upset Cain to execute a murderous plot against his
brotehr, Abel (Genesis 4:8).

Chorus: So Cain is "on his way" to exile. He waves 'toodleloo" to
Mississippi, stylin' out, half-step way. He wishes "good-bye" to his
"baby" and "farewell" to those "old Southern skies." He crosses the
"lazy river" into the West.

2nd Stanza: What Cain "left behind," the "silver mine" was the
presence of God (Genesis 4:14), family, and everything he knew. He
wandered on, "praying for better weather." He appealed to God for
protection in this unfamiliar land of Nod (Genesis 4:14). Nontheless,
it was a long trek. He "nailed a retread to his feet." (I've read about
Hunter's coming to SF. It wasn't under the best circumstances. It's a
story of hardship. But there's a rainbow at the end with its own pot of
gold.)

3rd Stanza: Cain thought he had it all wrapped up. He had thought his
ship came in, but becusae of his brotehr Abel, all that was gone: the
sails, the afterdeck, even the planks and rails, gone. So "what's the
use of callin' shots"? What's the use of trying to get ahead? Its all a
poor excuse for a set up anyway: "cue ball's made of styrofoam and no
one's got the time." So off Cain goes into exile-but he's making the
most of it, doing the best he can. Which ain't too bad at all. And
"Daddy" saw the whole thing coming-brought a tear to his eye just
thinking about it. 

Once Cain gets out West, to the land of Nod, he'll find there's plenty
of other exiled underdogs to hang with, plenty of other Cain's to pal
around with. All he'll need is "a bed to lay his head and a little
sympathy."

And maybe, if Cain hangs on and holds it together long enough (or lets
it fall apart beautifully) he'll met that gal and have his own family
(Genesis 4:17a). Might even build a whole dang city for all those happy
exiles (Genesis 4:17b). Enoch, Cain's son, has a pretty interesting
Apocryphal book named after him (or written by him). Cain's other
descendantss were the father's of those that play the flute and the
harp. His name was Jubal (Genesis 4:21), from which we get our
"jubilee" and jubilation. Not a bad history for a guy in exile for
killing his brother, eh?

The city the Dead built has no borders or boudaries, but only exiled
underdogs have "got to callin' it home." So embrace this admixture
exile. It's "the only thing he knows."