Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    
While probably best known for his Grateful Dead-related activities over
the years (in addition to co-producing the popular and
critically-acclaimed box set So Many Roads, he co-founded the Well's
Grateful Dead conference, and has produced the radio program The Grateful
Dead Hour for over a decade), David Gans (http://www.dgans.com)  has been
a musician and songwriter for most of his life. These days he's touring
heavily across the U.S. (he recently opened for David Lindley at the
Great American Music Hall in San Francisco) and has just released a new
CD, Solo Acoustic. Long known to Well inhabitants, Gans currently
co-hosts the Inkwell.vue, Beatles, Deadlit, Media, Band and Hosts
conferences.

Recorded at live performances over the last two years, the songs on Solo
Acoustic include familiar Grateful Dead classics ("Lady With A
Fan/Terrapin," "Black Peter," and "Brokedown Palace") as well as other
covers (e.g. Gram Parsons' "Return of the Grievous Angel") and several
original tunes by Gans himself and assorted songwriting partners,
including Dead lyricist Robert Hunter.

Interviewer Mary Eisenhart (http://www.yoyow.com/marye) is a freelance
writer and editor in Oakland whose current activities include writing
business articles for Knowledge Management and M-Business magazines, as
well as editing the content on the insiderone.net music site. She first
met Gans on the stairwell of BAM magazine (RIP), for which they were both
freelancing at the time, went on to do copious retyping of his first book
Playing in the Band, and ultimately joined him and Bennett Falk in
founding the Well's Grateful Dead conference.

Please join me in welcoming my co-host David and his interviewer, Mary!!
  

    
Welcome, folks!

So David, tell us a little bit about this album--what prompted you
to make it, and who do you see as its audience?
  

    

I have been touring as a solo act for almost three years, and there is some
demand at gigs for a recording.  That was my principal incentive.

"Solo Acoustic" also represents my commitment to my musical career -- which
is what I set out to do with my life 30 years ago before getting
"sidetracked" by several other interesting and rewarding occupations.  I'm
hoping this CD raises my profile enough to either help me get a "real" record
deal or earn enough to finance a more elaborate recording.

If this disc does well, I expect I'll do a "solo acoustic volume 2" to fur-
ther document this phase of my career.

I am enjoying the hell out of this singer-songwriter thing, but I am also
looking forward to the time when I can afford to take a band on the road and
into the studio.
  

    
Having been at some of your gigs over the years, I know you've got a
pretty large repertoire of material (originals and otherwise) -- how did
you decide what to include on this album?
  

    

I went with good, clean, representative performances.  And I got some help
from some people who -- why am I reluctant to use the word "fans"?  There are
a growing number of fans out there who collect my performances (which is an
important part of career development these days, as many of my friends and
peers in the biz can attest), some of whom are also WELL neighbors.  I sent
email to these people and asked for their recommendations, and I listened to
the stuff they suggested as well as shows I remember as being both well-
played and good-sounding on tape.

The source for all but one of these tracks is the dgital tape made from the
soundboard at the show.  Those mixes are not always good enough to enshrine
on CD; sometimes the voice and guitar aren't properly balanced; sometimes
the board is noisy, which pollutes the tape; etc.  So the pool o availablle
stuff was narrowedc by empirical considerations first.

I wanted my own songs to predominate, of course, and I wanted my election of
cover material to be representative of the usual configuration of my live
shows.

The main thing, of course, is what sounds good.  The guitar playng has to be
solid, and vocal and instrumental intonation right on the money, etc.  And of
course, the energy has to be good.

There are some songs n my solo repertoire that I am saving for the full-band
treatment.  "Like a Dog," the first of my two collaborations with Robert
Hunte,r is one of those.  I included the secon Hunter song, "Shut Up and
Listen," because it works well in this configuration AND it will be worth
doing again when I can give it the snarling, Stonesish rock'n'roll treatment
it really needs.
  

    
I noticed some of the more recent originals -- "River and Drown," "Down to
Eugene," "Who Killed Uncle John" -- are clearly related to, or at least
resonant with,the Deadhead experience. Can you say a bit about how they
came to be written, who you're writing them for, and where you see them
fitting in with your overall work over the years?
  

    

"River and Drown" is a direct resonse to the festival scene that I am part of
in various places around the country -- most notably the Suwannee SprngFest
(where I am right now) and MagnoliaFest (latte October), put on by Magnolia
Music and Events <http://www.magmusic.com> at the Spirit of the Suwannee
Music Park.  The venue, on the banks of the Suwannee River, has been a
bluegrass park for decades, and in the last six years or so has been the home
of these two fine festivals.  Lots of the same people show up every year --
on stage, selling food and t-shirts, in the audience -- and iit feels to me
like a continuation of the same sort of floating hometown we had with the
Grateful Dead.

The song is a collection of sketches of people I've seen along the way --
specific characters and generalizations - and it also offers some commentary
on the Grateful Dead community in particular because that's where I came
from.

"Who Killed Uncle John?" is the newest song, and it is a much more pointed
commentary.  It started last fall, when my friend Gary Burnett sent me on my
way from Tallahassee with several cassettes of early Bob Dylan performances.
The instant I heard "Who Killed Davey Moore?" I started accumulating ideas
for this song, and I had hours and hours of driving around Florida in the
next few days to develop it.  (I don't have the lyrics on my laptop, sorry to
say, but I'll get 'em uploaded and post a link asap.)

Who am I writing these songs for?  For myself, and for whoever listens to me.
I am in a peculiar position, trying to step out from the shadow of the
Grateful Dead and become a performer and writer in my own right.  In the case
of those songs, I am witing about what I know and about what matters to me.
Other recent compositions -- e.g. "An American Family," which is on the CD,
and "Autumn Day," which isn't -- address more universal concerns.

I would like to think "Who Killed Uncle John?" is of interest to people who
don't know (or care) about the Grateful Dead; a song that challenges the
assumptions and attitudes of various Deadheads surely can't be seen as an
act of pandering.
  

    <scribbled by marye Thu 22 Mar 01 10:25>
  

    
Never mind! Please continue!
  

    

"Down to Eugene" was written by Jim Page, a troubadour from Seattle who I
have known about since the early '70s and with whom I have done some touring
in recent years.  His version, on a CD titled "Whose World Is This," is a
sprightly item delivered in Jim's trademark conversational style.  When we
played it together, I would interpolate little bits of Gratful Dead songs in
between his lyrics (which would sometimes elicit a delightfully startled and
pleased response from Jim).  But his version of the song doesn't work for me,
somehow.

A year ago, I flew into Jacksonville for the Suwannee SpringFest.  I sat in a
hotel room near the airport, still on West Coast time, playing my guitar into
the night.  I had recently been inspired by an encounter with Jorma Kaukonen
to get a set of metal fingerpicks, which I hadn't used in 25 years or so.  I
was just fartin' around, getting used to having these things on my thumb and
fingers, when a delightful bit of bluesy, bouncy music began to assert it-
self.  I must have spent an hour just playing it over and over before I
started thinking about what sort of words I might put to it.

It was a moment of pure serendipity -- this musical gift from the muses, and
the inspiration to see if Jim's words fit with it.  They did.

I did a little nipping and tucking here and there to make it scan and to suit
my own idiosyncrasies, and played it at my very next gig.

Just this morning, over at the SpringFest office, Turner Houston said to me,
"You know that song you were playing over and over here in the office last
year?  It's been stuck in my head ever since.  Is it on the new CD?"  BINGO!
That's the definition of a hit song, kids :^)
  

    
I told you it was the single! Heh!
  

    
So moving right along, one of the songs, "Shut Up and Listen," is
co-written with Robert Hunter, a man whose work has certainly had
a life-changing impact on  a lot of us.

How did the collaboration come about, and what's it like to work
with Hunter, anyhow?
  

    

Last July I checked my email ust before leaving my hotel room to play an out-
door festival in Michigan.  There was a message from Robert Hunter, saying he
had been reading my online journal <inkwell.vue.51> and thought I might be
interested in this.  It was a song lyric titled "Like a Dog," and it seemed
to have been written expressly for me.

I was VERY excited.  This man has been a hero to me for thirty years, having
written some of the most important, resonant music of our generation.  We had
not had much of a relationship over the last ten years or so, for reasons
unclear to me, so this gift was totally unexpected.  The empathy it conveyed
blew my little mind, I must say.  There is much more in what he wrote for me
than I ever laid out in that online journal -- but I think that is part of
Hunter's great gift: to read into people and put things into words that we
didn't know were true until he wrote 'em.

I got through the gig that aternoon -- a splendid afternoon on an outdoor
stage -- and then charged back to my hotel room to get to work on the song.
A couple of days earlier I had sat in my car outside Lynagh's in Lexington,
transfixed by Bob Dylan's new song "Things Have Changed."  So I had that kind
of feel in mind as I tackled "Like a Dog."

I spent that evening with it, determined to have it ready for the next day's
show at Nelson Ledges Quarry Park in northeast Ohio.

When I got to Nelson Ledges, I got an idea.  Rather than play it solo, I
decided to show the song to the Dark Star Orchestra and ask them to play it
with me in my set.  They were game, so I ran it down forJohn kadlecik, the
guitarist, and Scott Larned, the keyboardist.  I made a head chart for the
bass player, Mike Hazdra.  The drummers just had to wing it.

My risk-taking paid off.  The DSO gave me exactly the sort of groove I was
looking for, and although I stumbled on the words a bit the song was a
success.  I jumped right into "Bertha," and we proceeded to do a few favorite
Dead songs in one contninuous jam to end my set.

What a thrill!

When I got home to California, I played the tape of this performance on my
radio show.  There was copy in the mail to Hunter, but he heard it on the
radio and sent me a very enthusiastic email message right away.  "You're the
doghead!" he said.

And then he sent me another lyric: "Shut Up and Listen."
  

    

Like a Dog


Sick of gettin' treated like a goddamned dog
Sick of gettin' kicked around
Sick of sittin' like a bump on a log
Gonna head for higher ground

Sick of gettin' cheated, blindsided and tricked
By ev'ry sonabitch on the block
This sure as hell ain't the life I picked
I believe I'm ready to walk

If I ever need another stab in the back
I surely know where to turn
Useta make my bed on a railroad track
But don't say I never learn

Meet me in the morning on the nine-o-nine
Down among the evergreen
Found a message in a bottle of wine
What it says remains to be seen

Sick and tired of bein' sick and tired
And mister that isn't a joke
Sick and tired of bein' hired and fired
While my dreams go up in smoke

Sick of gettin' lied on, spied on and judged
By standards that I don't approve
Spent too much time holdin' a grudge
Now I'm gonna make my move

Sick of gettin' treated like a goddamned dog
Sick of gettin' kicked around
Sick of sittin' like a bump on a log
Gonna head for higher ground

Meet me in the morning on the nine-o-nine
Down among the evergreen
Tell me your troubles, I'll tell you mine
Beatin' rhythm on the tambourine

Sick of gettin' treated like a goddamned dog
Sick of gettin' kicked around
Sick of sittin' like a bump on a log
Or knocked down on the ground

Sick of bein' treated to a slap in the face
Where a nod and a wink would do
Sick of my children in the rags of disgrace
Their father and their mother too

Sick of being murdered in the streets of Prague
Down hearted in the Barrio
So sick of sinkin' in the same old bog
Catch a ferry down to mexico . . .



by Robert Hunter
Copyright 2000 Ice Nine Publishing Company
  

    

Shut Up and Listen

You're so busy talkin'
You never find out
What ev'ryone else
Is keepin' quiet about
You're so busy knockin
You don't understand
The door's wide open
Don't go breakin' your hand

CHORUS:
Shut up & listen
A minute or two
Shut up & listen
You could pick up a clue
Shut up & listen
Doot' n doo doo
Shut up & listen
I'm talkin' to you

Shut up and listen
Or you may never learn
Why pigs don't fly
Why water don't burn
Why you can't find a cop
When it's a cop you need
Why you can't grow gators
From crocodile seed

CHORUS


Walking in a storm
With an ear to the blast
Thinkin each moment
Could be my last
A small still voice
Seemed to beckon within
So quiet in there
You'd hear the drop of a pin
I asked what it wanted,
Said what do you crave?
It said: nothin' but the first dance
On your grave
I ran for the faucet
And I turned off the storm
Crawled under the bed
To consider reform

CHORUS

You don't pay attention
You don't analyze
An ounce of prevention's
Worth a ton of surmise
Shut up and listen
And it may come clear
Why the key to your hopeUs
The very thing you fear
Why if you pick at a scab
you prolong the pain
Why you can't find a cab
in New York in the rain

CHORUS



By Robert Hunter
Copyright 2000 Ice Nine Publishing Company
  

    
"Shut Up and Listen" presents an interesting problem.  Basically, it's
Hunter's resonse to audiences that made his last tour a painful one, shouting
for "Dark Star" in the middle of his quiet songs and stuff like that.

At first, I gave it a very gentle, sweet musical setting to counteract the
acerbic quality of the lyric.  Hunter heard that on the webcast of a
Musicians for Mewdical Marijuana show from the Great American Music Hall
(August something, 2000), and although he was kind in his response I got
the feeling he wanted me to power that fucker out for him.

I replied that my musical setting is "scaleable," meaning it would work  as a
delicate fingerpicked thing and also in a more urgent form.

Laster in the year, I had occasion to use the song in a manner more in
keeping with the lyricist's apparent intention.  Opening shows for large rock
bands in front of audiences that came to hear Grateful Dead music and weren't
much interested in what I was doing...
  

    
Hm. This brings up an interesting tangent--audiences. As a confirmed
audience member, I've always had a hard time understanding how performers
do not go bonkers as they sit up there singing their hearts out while
people spill beers, discuss the football game, or worse.

I know you've had some nightmare gigs and some very good ones, sometimes
in the strangest of places--what do you like to see in an audience?
  

    

It's really hard not to take it personally sometimes, but as long as I know
I'm doing a good job I don't get too flustered when I'm faced with an inat-
tentive crowd.  The trick is to get good bookings, of course.

Last week I had the privilege of opening for David Lindley and Wally Ingram
at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco.  It's a great venue, and
Dave and Wally are a great act.  Their audience was a delight -- polite,
responsive, and they got my jokes!  The ones in the songs, I mean.

At this phase of my career, I have to take some gigs that I know are going to
be problematic.  I am much better known in the GD/jamband world than I am in
the "Americana" circuit, which is really where I belong.  So when I find
myself in front of a restless crowd that is mostly concerned with having a
good spot in front of the stage for the headliner's set, I just turn up the
juice and deliver a performance that can't be denied.  If I can connect with
a few people, I've won.

My job is to build an audience for myself one person at a time.  Sometimes
that means singing across the top of a few hundred chattering souls who can't
be bothered to tune in, but all I need is a few faces looking back with some
sign of appreciation and I'm happy.
  

    
For those who don't hang out in music-biz circles a lot, what is
this "Americana" thing?   It seems to be a new category that includes
a lot of familiar and unfamiliar artists. Who are some names we
might recognize in that genre, and why do you feel like that's where 
you belong?
  

    

Americana is a category invented by Rob Bleetstein when he was working for
The Gavin Report.  It's the place for people like John Prine, Gillian Welch,
Nanci Griffith, Robert Earl Keen, et al. -- people who play music that is no
longer welcome on the Country chart.

I belong there because I am a disciple of John Prine, Steve Goodman, Emmylou
Harris, Bob Dylan, Jesse Winchester, Little Feat, Kate Wolf, Merle Haggard,
Bob Wills, Commander Coddy and His Lost Planet Airmen, etc.
  

    
Somewhat in keeping with that tradition, which is pretty eclectic--
there's quite a range of emotion and subject matter in your original
compositions--"Blue Roses" is a sweet, wistful ballad, and "An American
Family" is something else entirely. Tell us a bit about what's going
on in some of those songs and how you came to write them.
  

    

I wrote "Blue Roses" in 1974, driving home from Oregon.  I don' remember
what, if anything, was going on in my life that would have prompted it -- it
might be one of those songs that started with a musical atmosphere and
proceeded from there.

"An American Family" resulted from a decision to write a piece of pure
fiction.  At the time - four or five years ago -- I was thinking that my
songwriting was (a) not frequent enough, and (b) too often rooted in my      
own personal saga.                                                  

It began as a portrait of a person I know in real life, but I followed my
nose and it led me to a different guy altogether, and the next thing I knew
he had a wife and a kid.  It's about the times as much as the people:






An American  Family
by David Gans


My name is Ellis Andrews and I know just where I stand
Descended from the Puritans who colonized this land
There's an old abandoned fact'ry with our name up there in bricks
I've been sending out my resumes and hoping something sticks

The power of tradition is the power of trusting fate
To hand me some good fortune when the hour is getting late
But work has not been steady since the lull of '91
And the fear of disappearing is pre-empting all my fun

My name is Ellis Andrews and I've always done my chores
I'm the hero of my movie just like you must be in yours
Twenty years since graduation I'm still searching for my groove
And an outlet for my skills when the economy improves


My name is Mary Andrews and I'd like to keep my home
But we can't afford our mortgage on my salary alone
This family's failing fortunes may be more than I can take
I'm married to a decent man who cannot get a break


My name is Elvis Android and I don't care what you think
My most-unanswered prayer is, Beam me up! This planet stinks!
The power of tradition is the power to prevent
When genocidal profit is the task to which you're bent

When my optimism falters I just turn on Channel Two
To wallow in nostalgia for a life I never knew
My fathers' fathers' fathers made a mess out of this place
If I had the wherewithal I'd checkered-flag the human race


Copyright 1996 Whispering Hallelujah Music (BMI). All rights reserved.
  

    
Is there anything in particular that inspires you to write a song?
When does it go from a passing idea to something more fully formed
and real?
  

    
There is no process, no method, no formula.  If I took the time to sit down
and just play more often, I might write more -- but I'm not entirely sure
that's true.

I sometimes wish I were one of those people who can write and write and just
see what works, but I'm not.  I tend to incubate ideas inside my head for
quite a while before I commit to paper.  And I like to think about the music
for a good long time before I start trying to play the song on the guitar,
because that helps me avoid the cliches of guitar-based songwriting.

Oviously, "Down to Eugene" is an exception, since that began as a guitar
piece.  But "An American Family," for example, began as a lyric idea and
stayed inside my head through the arrival of the other two characters.  I
knew each character would be sung in a different key, and I had a good idea
of what the melody and rhythm would sound like, before I picked up the
guitar.  Once I did pick up the guitar, the song proved to be nearly
complete.

Another song, "Autumn Day," began with the first line: "Her name was autumn
day."  I ruminated for a long time on who that person might be, and as she
took shape her story began to tell itself to me.  I was surprised when it
turned out to be Yet Another Song About Interrupted Love -- a theme that has
persisted in my writing for years (see also "Waltzing Across Texas," written
in 1979 or so) -- but it is what it is.  I was able to exert some control
over the story, and I had the opportunity to make some interesting musical
choices, so it satisfies an important criterion of sucess in my songwriting:
it has to have something unique, and/or it has to represent some development
in my skill as a composer or lyricist.  In this case, I made the decision to
NOT put more chord changes in places where they suggested themselves.  The
action is all in the melody and the words, while the harmonic framework is
really, really simple.

"Autumn Day" is not on this record -- even though it works pretty well as a
solo number -- because I really want to do some sound sculpting with it when
I get a chance to record it in the studio.  Here are the lyrics:

Her name was Autumn Day
She took my breath away
Red hair and jack-o-lantern smile
Her beauty was unique
Her laughter made me weak
She thought she'd stay with me a while

Though she was born to run
She said I was the one
Her love was bold in its insistence
She had a dancer's lines
Up close she looked so fine
But there were storm clouds in her distance
Her name was Autumn Day
She came but could not stay

Some evenings she would walk
Out where the spirits talk
And she would listen for their song
I don't know what she heard
She could not find the words
But I could feel something was wrong

I saw the lightning in her eye
The moon went sailing by
The oceans all ran dry
And then it rained...

Now here I am, alone
Chilled to my every bone
Cold winds blow through my heart
My new life will not start
Her name was Autumn Day
She came but could not stay


There's an opportunity to make something really interesting happen after that
bridge.  In live performance, it's just bare-bones triads (the simplest of
major chords) in that passage, but I invest them with suficient drama (I
hope) to get the message across.
  

    
I got a nice assist from real life during the making of "Autumn Day."  Here
is a journal entry from October 26, 1998:



 I am in the middle of a very interesting writing experience.

 I started out with the line "Her name was Autumn Day" and just let it come
 to me, a little at a time.  The music is unbelievably simple and spare -
 just two chords most of the time, C and A minor (one of those was an F at
 first, but I decided to keep it VERY simple)....

 What's really fascinating to me is the turn the story has taken.  I had
 thought it was going to be one of those dumbass songs about the most amazing
 woman who ever lived - standard male wish-fulfillment - but it has turned
 into something else entirely.

 There's a lot of death in the air right now, unfortunately, and that energy
 has affected my process of creating this song.  I am not fighting it - the
 song is telling me what it wants to be, and I trust that.

 By happy coincidence, I just spent four days in Yosemite Valley, on what
 proved to be the very cusp of the seasonal change.  There's a sugar maple on
 the main road that was bright yellow when we got there, turning fiery red by
 the minute; the wedding took place outdoors under a mildly threatening sky,
 and as soon as we moved inside for the reception the clouds burst forth for
 a couple of hours of intense rain, which sent dozens of spontaneous
 wateralls into action overhead - and when the clouds lifted at the end of
 the afternoon, there was snow on all the major peaks and domes.  Minds were
 blown!  As research material for the song in progress, it was quite
 memorable.

 I had worked on the song very late several nights last week, and I kept it
 with me at all times over the weekend.  I wrote in a pocket notebook when-
 ever I got an idea, and when we got back to the cabin I'd update the copy in
 my Powerbook.  The structure is there, in its bare-bones simplicity, and I
 doubt it will want a bridge.  There are still several lines that are only
 placeholders, and I expect to collapse two verses into one before I'm done,
 etc.  But I'm enjoying the process a lot, and I think the song is going to
 be a quiet wonder when it's done.



It did wind up with a bridge.
  

    

And here are the lyrics to "Who Killed Uncle John?":


WHO KILLED UNCLE JOHN?

 Who killed Uncle John
 And kept the show from going on?
 "Not I," said the nitrous man
 Counting money in his van
 "The parking lot's my neighborhood
 I'm sure the show inside was good"
 "Not I," said the tribute band
 Aiming at nostalgic fans
 "It's everybody's flame to keep
 Twice as high and half as deep"
 It wasn't me who stopped his heart
 I served the man who served his art

 Who killed Uncle John
 And kept the show from going on?
 "Not I," said the idiot
 Flaming on the Internet
 "He owed his wealth to guys like me
 I took his work so seriously"
 "Not I," said the completist
 Fondling his compact discs
 "I'm sorry that he went away
 I'll soon own every note he played"
 It wasn't me who stopped his heart
 I served the man who served his art

 Who killed Uncle John
 And kept the show from going on?
 "Not I," said the mainstream press
 "I found his image humorous
 His followers were so uncool
 I made him out to be a fool"
 "Not I," said the publicist
 Protecting him from journalists
 "I'm writing his biography
 I needed him to talk to me"
 It wasn't me who stopped his heart
 I served the man who served his art

 "Not I," said the acid-head
 "And I don't think he's really dead
 He served his time in hell on earth
 Only I know his true worth"
 "Not I," said the heroin
 Slouching into Terrapin
 "I helped him to escape his fame
 By letting him forget his name"
 It wasn't me who stopped his heart
 I served the man who served his art

 Who killed Uncle John
 And kept the show from going on?
 "Not I," said the kwipment krew
 "He loved me and hated you
 Guts to open, trips to win
 I stayed right in the game with him"
 "Not I," said the engineer
 Whispering in someone's ear
 "I woke up worried every day
 And went to bed each night that way"
 It wasn't me who stopped his heart
 I served the man who served his art

 Who killed Uncle John
 And kept the show from going on?
 "Not I," said the dharma bum
 Speaking through his talking drum
 "Not I," said the entourage
 manufacturing mirage
 "Not I," said the man from merch
 Selling souvenirs in church
 "Not I," said the radio host
 Refusing to give up the ghost
 "Not I," said the DEA
 Deploying agents where he played
 "Not I," said the troubadour
 "Not I" --

 "Not I," said the dancing girl
 Interrupted in mid-twirl
 "I'll show you where the spirit went
 I'll meet you at the Incident"


Words and music  by David Gans
Copyright 2001 Whispering Hallelujah Music (BMI). All rights reserved.