Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    

Fish rots from the head, as a good friend reminded me in a related context
not too long ago.

Jerry Garcia was a most reluctant emperor.  He was pretty much the only one
who could have controlled any of it, from the thugs on his own crew on down.
He refused to correct anyone's behavior.  It was well known in all realms
that you could pretty much do what you wanted to do.  In the beginning, I
think, the presumption was that everybody would behave responsibly and look
out for the group; the tragedy of the commons put that notion into the ground
in the Haight in '67, and then the whole story played out again over the next
couple of decades all across the country.

All the good stuff kept happening, too, of course, until the last few years
maybe.  As long as the music was compelling, the rest could be dealt with.

There's been a discussion on a mailing list I read, saying something along
the lines of this: the Reagan years helped make the GD scene possible - or
should I say necessary - with its mindless rejection of introspection. "Just
say no" my ass - I'm going on Dead tour!
  

    

I'm wondering if there is anything like this trip available to kids now.
  

    
I’m going to follow out this Beat-scene casualty-Dionysian discussion
a little bit. We remember and talk about the Beats because of the books
that were produced. Many of those books self-mythologized the circle
of people we call Beats. Within that circle were some very talented
writers who were mixed in with thieves, addicts, intellectuals,
anarchists, musicians, artists, students, creeps, and people with
severe mental problems which, at that time, the medical community was
severely limited in dealing with. The Dionysian spirit was present
there, yes, but the King of the Beats (Kerouac), often said that the
term “Beat” meant beatific or holy. In one of his first appearances on
national television after the publication of On the Road, Jack answers
that he wrote the book because he, "was waiting for God to show his
face." That doesn’t dispel the Dionysian parallel. My point is that the
writers themselves who ultimately conveyed the zeitgeist within which
the Beats as a larger group existed (including such influential lesser
known characters as Herbert Huncke, Lucien Carr, etc.) appreciated and
participated in the Dionysian frenzy of life, but, at some point,
pulled back enough to put it on paper. That means that they also read,
studied and practiced enough to learn how to write powerfully – in a
way that would preserve those words for posterity. They believed that
the people they were surrounded with and the ideas being slung
back-and-forth we’re valuable enough to be saved and passed along. In
many ways, the history of counterculture literature in which the Beats
play a key role is a first-person Orphic narrative: the narrator starts
in a stable environment, travels down into the depths of subculture,
and emerges with the story of what’s happening down there. Without the
re-emergence, we never get the story. And without writers who are able
to sustain what the poet John Keats called “negative capability”
(defined by Keats as the ability to be “capable of being in
uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after
fact & reason”) we never get the story. To be able to convey the value
of a subculture to a dominant culture, the writer must not only grasp
the essence of the subculture, but the value it holds for the larger
culture. Interestingly, the point when that happens is also the point
where assimilation and/or attack of the subculture begins (thus we have
the Beats in Life magazine and ridiculed on television shows, etc). In
any event, within the Beat scene and the Dead scene, there were lots
of “thieves, addicts, intellectuals, anarchists, musicians, artists,
students, creeps, and people with severe mental problems” along with
lots of brilliant, peaceful, giving, loving, progressive people with
vital ideas about America. And, as with the Beat scene, there are lots
of caricatures that reduce the scene to one-dimension. One main reason
I felt compelled to write Growing Up Dead was that I felt a first
person narrative about Deadheads in the tradition of classic,
successful countercultural literature had not been published. Whether I
succeeded or not is up for grabs, but that was my intention. I wanted
to do that because I understood that to convey the true value of the
scene in way that could perhaps benefit us still, today, it was
necessary to follow out that Orphic narrative. Addressing those
statements to David’s question of, “I'm wondering if there is anything
like this trip available to kids now,” well, I believe in the power of
literature enough to hope that a book could keep those doors open.
That’s the art form I’ve pursued, so it’s the way I felt I could best
contribute. Since the book has been published, I’ve had emails from
many young people (16-to-mid twenties… lots of emails from people of
every other age too, but that’s a different discussion) who say that my
story sounds like their story. Some are following bands like
Widespread Panic or Phish or Disco Biscuits, etc. Some are playing out
scenes within the areas that they live (think globally, freak locally).
Where they do these things may ultimately be less important than the
spirit and ideas that are being transmitted. To me, that spirit of
music, dance, travel (both internal and external), human interaction
(both positive and hazardous) is at the root of the American
counterculture that has always served as a corrective to our dominant
culture. God help us if that ever goes away. But I don’t think it will.
As much as we lament mass media video game mindless money marketing
culture, there will always be kids who look for more. I believe it’s
the responsibility of those who can help guide those kids to keep
putting the message out there, no matter how much static you need to
endure to get it through. To me, that’s the root of keeping the faith. 
  

    

> One main reason I felt compelled to write Growing Up Dead was that I felt a
> first person narrative about Deadheads in the tradition of classic, succes-
> sful countercultural literature had not been published. Whether I succeeded
> or not is up for grabs, but that was my intention.

I think you did.  That's why we're here.
  

    
I think you did too.

One of the things you got at in your book that really resonated with
me was that the Dead provided, if not an education, then at least the
signpost to an education waiting to be had. It could be primarily about
music (learning about Howlin' Wolf, Noah Lewis, et al.), but it could
also be about literature and the history of ideas equally well.

There was, if you looked for it, access to a  countercultural tale
that goes back to the dawn of shamanism as far as I can tell. 

You clearly followed the signs.
  

    

And now I'd like to ask a question I have asked others, including others in
this forum.

"Did it matter?  Does it now?"
  

    
Peter would answer if he only knew how...
  

    
!!!
  

    

But seriously.  What does all this mean?  Why do you suppose the Grateful
Dead culture continues to exist, diffused as it may be among various band
members and their musical and spiritual heirs?
  

    
I think the culture continues because the art is really, really good.
(BTW, I'm going to answer this in the past tense b/c we're talking
about the G.D. not the Dead) Each member was intensely invested not
only in the possibilities of the band and music, but in their
individual instruments. They explored their own roles and pushed the
boundaries of their playing in ways that reward listeners over and over
and over. The music also incorporated so many different types of music
that hardcore listeners can pull up different songs, eras, styles and
find music to fit their needs at any given time. The Grateful Dead are
also an incredible story of endurance. Ernest Shackleton may have
survived the Antarctic, but those guys got up on stage night after
night, year after year, city after city, and hung themselves on the
line in the name of chasing down the bitch-god music muse. Their
dedication to their art is an amazing inspiration and also sets a
pretty high bar for other artists. As the old saying goes: half the
battle is showing up. Those guys showed up. In the end, I believe that
great art endures and lesser art fades away. The Boys made great art
and that's why the legacy will remain strong. The culture surrounding
the band grew out of the band's beliefs, influences, and the original
community that nurtured them, so its also infused with all the elements
that make the art great. As long as those threads are alive and the
live wires are twitching with creative energy, people will be drawn to
the music and will discover the culture surrounding it.    
  

    

(BTW, anyone reading this from outside the WELL is invited to send a question
or comment to  inkwell@well.com - we'd love to ehar from you.)
  

    
>As long as those threads are alive and the live wires are twitching
with creative energy, people will be drawn to the music and will
discover the culture surrounding it.   <

Yeah. I think that one happily ironic result of the band's sudden,
belated popularity in mainstream radio music (even as that medium was
moving into its own death throes) and their decline and demise in the
early 90's, was the flow of that energy and music (much original tho GD
inspired) back into the local joints of so many cities and towns.
  

    
The early 90s was definitely an amazing time for fans of G.D. inspired
jam-oriented music. There was an explosion of talented, original
groups touring around the East Coast and playing their own music:
Phish, Widespread Panic, Blues Traveler, Aquarium Rescue Unit, Spin
Doctors, etc. etc. along with a ton of bands playing on a smaller
scale, but in a similar vein. As result, a lot of those smaller bands
got to open for the future jam heavyweights and had some cool musical
interactions. As I talk about in Growing Up Dead, I went to college in
Potsdam, NY, way up North near the Canadian border - and also a couple
hours away from Burlington. So we had early access to Phish bootlegs,
live recordings, and club shows. The first time I saw them was a free
concert in the Potsdam student union. We had lobbied hard to get them
there and were all psyched to help the band carry in equipment, set up,
and then dance hard all around the union. As early as '90 the college
bands I was involved with were mixing jammy originals with covers by
Phish, WSP, Blues Traveler, etc. Basically, we were playing covers of
these bands while they were barely past playing covers themselves! And,
of course, we played plenty of G.D. covers too. Personally, after
spending years on the G.D. scene and watching the way things were
spinning out of control, it was a real boost to have these talented,
like-minded bands start showing up and playing excellent music. July 20
and 21 1991, there was a little music festival at Arrowhead Ranch in
Parksville, NY:  http://ksstudio.com/ahr/snapshots.html. Phish
headlined, playing with the Giant Country Horns. Spin Doctors, The
Radiators, the Authority and TR3 also played. There were about 2000
people in a beautiful outdoor summer setting, everyone camping, no cops
in sight, no hassles whatsoever, and great music with lots of dancing.
I went with Sissy (known to anyone who read GUD) and we both had a
palpable sense - even within the moment - that we were helping kick off
a necessary, new direction. Since we had been on the G.D. scene, we
also felt this was a chance to transmit some energy and lessons from
that scene to this new scene. That show is now, rightfully, epic among
Phish-heads, but in my mind it also serves as a signpost that there was
help on the way.       
  

    
Peter, 
I’m interested in hearing you speak more about the relationship
between the Grateful Dead and The Dead.  In an earlier post you make a
distinction between the two: 

“I think the culture continues because the art is really, really good.
(BTW, I'm going to answer this in the past tense b/c we're talking
about the G.D. not the Dead) Each member was intensely invested not
only in the possibilities of the band and music, but in their
individual instruments.”

Do you see the culture each embodies as being separate?  Are they
distinct from one another?  How may this be significant to a discussion
of the Grateful Dead culture continuing today?
  

    

Welcome, Liz, and thanks for your question!
  

    
Hi Elizabeth,
An interesting thing happened after I wrote GUD, but before it was
published - the Dead announced that they would tour again. When I
started the book, there were no signs of a tour. In fact, it looked to
me like that might never happen again. You can see that in certain
passages of the book - a strong sense of the past tense without
glimmers of future tours. In a twist of synchronicity, the band
announced their spring tour a few months before my book was
published... and, what's more, the tour would start the same month my
book was released. There was no wrangling or changing publiction dates
or anything - it just worked out that way. Pretty damn cool. However,
it also created a situation whereby I'm talking about a book written
about a band in the past tense, while the band members launch a very
public rebirth. When I wrote the book, I was consciously trying to
preserve something that looked like it was going, going, gone.
Suddenly, the Dead were on Letterman, NY Times, even The View! So for
me, with specific regards to GUD, I'm careful to distinguish between
G.D. and The Dead - because, technically, the band I wrote the book
about *is* gone. That said, I saw The Dead in Albany and MSG and it was
obvious that the music, the spirit, and the scene around the shows was
very much alive. Of course, this isn't a big surprise because I've
been to Phil shows, Bob shows, The Other Ones shows, etc. and, of
course, the Deadhead community has always remained very strong,
especially now that so much of it is online. But these were the most
coherent, G.D.-like shows I had seen since Jerry's death. It really
brought me back. And there's no doubt that the tour sparked new life
into the community too. People were psyched, people were bitching,
people were critiquing, recording, traveling, discussing, seeing old
friends, etc. In short, they were being active Deadheads in the world.
Regarding the culture between the two groups being different - yes,
inevitably, because the avenues the band was using to promote the tour
were/are very sophisticated. This tour was a huge deal on a larger
media scale, not just among the community. The website, the rehearsal
videos, the merch, the whole set-up from the band's end seemed very
streamlined and savvy too. I don't say that as a negative, just an
observation - they knew what this tour was all about and how to
maximize its impact. And they pulled it off. Kudos. I think the real
test of "the scene" in a cultural sense though will only be visible if
The Dead keep touring, venue after venue, year after year, outside the
glare of that big media spotlight. In other words, it's tough to gauge
the real situation until things settle down. That said (and this is
also covered in the book) I'm not nearly as in touch with the Dead
scene as I was in the 80s and 90s. A couple weeks ago I was out in San
Francisco doing some readings for GUD and photographer Jay Blakesburg
came out to one of my events. He had just done the whole tour (minus, I
believe, one show) and was talking about the shows and all sorts of
lower-key band activity in the Bay Area. It was really cool to hear him
talk and to pick up some of that energy that's very present, very
current, very alive today. And going to those shows on the spring tour
put me back in touch with that on a personal level too - damn was I
sore after that Albany show! I danced my ass off at both those shows
and MSG was as strong a show as many I saw back in the 80s and 90s ("in
and out of The Garden he goes!"). But, as I cover in the book, my main
focus shifted away from the band to pursuing my own art. A big theme
of the book is taking the experience, lessons, and energy of G.D. music
and the scene and transfering it to your own trip. Inevitably, that
means losing touch with the minutiea of fandom, but, in my opinion, it
pays a greater homage to the spirit we've been discussing. It's not
quite "believe it if you need it, if you don't just pass it on" because
the belief is always alive and is never passed. But there's a deep
truth about the enduring power of the scene within the subtext of that
lyric: G.D. music and the scene is bigger than any one person. In a
way, it will always be there, and in a way it's already gone (quoth
Whitman: "Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict
myself."). But once you've tapped into the G.D., once you truly catch
that flow, it never fully leaves you. It's always a part of your makeup
- practically at a molecular level. And if you've caught it at that
level, it's healthy to step outside the scene enough to transmit its
positive attributes and to pass along the lessons. 
  

    

> A big theme of the book is taking the experience, lessons, and energy of
> G.D. music and the scene and transfering it to your own trip.

Yes indeed.  That's always been a huge part of it for me.  I always said a GD
concert was a great way to rev up my own creative flywheel.


> once you've tapped into the G.D., once you truly catch that flow, it never
> fully leaves you. It's always a part of your makeup - practically at a
> molecular level.

That's true, too.
  

    
Truth and fun, truth and fun!
  

    

Now there you go, throwing my words in my face!

I'm about to take off for a weekend tour that will likely keep me offline
until Sunday.  I might be able to check in at some point Saturday, but I'm
not sure.

So I'm hoping all ofyouse will keep the conversation going in my absence.
  

    
<after I wrote GUD>

I'm working in Swedish on a play right now, so this made me laugh as I
tried to figure out what you meant.  "GUD" means "GOD" in the
Scandinavian languages.

<A big theme of the book is taking the experience, lessons, and energy
of G.D. music and the scene and transferring it to your own trip.>

So if we're talking about "Did it matter? Does it now?", the answer
may depend on how we value or attend to the cosmic spirit of
collectivism (that transcends ones "own trip").  In this, the Deadhead
scene is/was a direct descendent of the hippie phenomenon, especially
as it concerns a collectivist scene.  

So, Peter, what do you think the future holds for the Grateful Dead
musicking experience as a social construct that can be replicated? Do
you predict future rock nekyias modeled on the Deadhead scene and/or
the best of the GD type of show.  (BTW, when I saw the Dead in The
Gorge in May, there was a palpable sense of community in the air, but
the show––although great at times––was too uneven in its song selection
and delivery to engender a sustained Dionysian journey or Nekyia).  

Do you think the show experience, of the type delivered by the GD at
their best, holds the potential to transcend the event and influence
cultural change?  You've alluded to Phish, Widespread Panic as somewhat
similar phenomenon with caravanning fans.  What do you see in the
sense of family/tribe formed within these collectivist scenes that may
have greater applicability in the future as the participants leave the
concert/mediascape/campground/Shakedown Street/parking lot culture and
plug into a more privatized existence?  Might not the Deadhead type of
scene serve, inadvertently, as a grassroots model to help us break
through the privatized/mass consumer paradigm that drives contemporary
society?         

[What would be the answer? I'm expecting a GUD-like answer,
Answerman.]
  

    
GUD gawd, Scott ;-)

An intervening question for all… I remember when I "got it",
surprisingly a year before I saw my first show. I was walking past the
dorm room next door to mine as a college freshman. Eddy was blaring NFA
from the "Skull Fuck/Skull and Roses" album. His stereo was obscenely
huge and bone-shaking loud. In an instant I knew that whatever band
that was playing, they were big fun and good trouble. I was hooked in a
matter of seconds as my adolescent affection for The Beatles, Simon
and Garfunkel, AM radio rock and soul took a back seat to this new
fascination.

So, my question is… anybody else had similar pre-show epiphanies?
  

    
So the author of GUD was at the Rochester International Jazz Fest
until late last night. The RIJF (I believe that means "angel" in
Icelandic) has turned into an amazing festival the past few years:
http://rochesterjazz.com.  In addition to the tons of club shows, on
weekends they block off a few major downtown streets, set up stages,
and have some outstanding bands play for free. Last night was a clear,
72 degree night in Rochester, and a few thousand people milled around
the streets - spirits were high and I got to hang out with a bunch of
friends. Big fun, but I must admit, I’m a bit fuzzy today. The Campbell
Brothers - Sacred Steel Guitar started the outdoor show:
http://www.rochesterjazz.com/artist_lineup/?artist_id=321. The band
features two brothers (Campbell’s, of course) who play pedal steel and
lap steel guitars. The music is stomping, righteous, high energy gospel
blues and the crowd ate them up. After the Campbell Brothers set was
over, Robert Randolph & The Family Band played:
http://www.rochesterjazz.com/artist_lineup/?artist_id=315. Having these
two bands play back-to-back was organizational gold. The bands
complemented each other perfectly – the Campbell Bros pumping up the
crowd with a PG set, and then Randolph coming in with the PG-13 (at
times Prince-like R rated) version of Gospel Blues Funk Jazz jams.
Randolph is a great performer, engaging the crowd throughout the show –
at one point he brought roughly 75 women from the crowd up on stage
and they danced like crazy while he sang some stuff about “shaking your
hips” etc. Not sure what he saying, honestly, because the spectacle
on-stage was hilarious and took complete attention, but the gist of it
was that the women in the crowd should dance their asses off. And they
did. Lots of the men did too. These guys seamlessly mix styles and
Randolph’s pedal steel cuts through the jams, holding it all together
and pushing the music forward. Like the Campbell Brothers, Randolph is
coming out of a religious, gospel tradition (though he’s definitely
come farther out) and there’s an air of raucous holy-spirit in even the
nitty-grittiest numbers. The other cool thing about the jazz fest is
that musicians are always popping up in each others sets. Last night,
Susan Tedeschi opened up for Taj Mahal (at the same time that the
Randolph Bros were playing – but that show costs money and was held
inside). Towards the end of Randolph’s set, she slid on stage for a
smoking version of Voodoo Chile. Tedeschi has a soulful, bluesy,
original voice and it was cool hearing her interpret this classic tune.
Midway through Voodoo Chile, Chuck Campbell came up on stage too. They
put Chuck’s pedal steel next to Randolph, front and center, and the
two dueled it out, topping each other on crazy Hendrix-flavored solos.
Randolph closed out the show with one, two, three… I don’t know how
many encores… it just kept going… and he kept the energy pumping high
until he left the stage, waving, dancing, and shouting blessings.

I started out writing this about last night, because I wanted to tell
Scott that his question is three levels deeper than my post-Jazz fest
mind can handle this morning. (BTW, I’d love to hear your own take on
this stuff, Scott. You’ve obviously given it some thought and I’d be
very interested.) But once I got going, it occurred to me that this
might be an answer in itself. As good as it was to see many friends
last night – times are tough. People are losing jobs or teetering on
the brink of it or figuring out new ways to scrape by (like choosing
the free outdoor show instead of the costlier indoor show). As we all
know, America is struggling with reimagining itself while in the throes
of a serious economic crisis. That’s not theoretical, it’s very
personal and there’s fallout everywhere. Last night wasn’t a Dead show
by any stretch. But it was a positive, upbeat gathering of people who
all came together for two reasons: music and fun. I also give thanks to
the city of Rochester for encouraging and facilitating the festival –
it’s a great boon for the city. In the end, none of the music, fun,
gathering, etc. solved anyone’s problems on a personal or collective
scale. But it helped. It helped. We all got to look at each other
having a good time. We all experienced the same music and for a while,
I hope, a lot of people got to leave some of the worrisome shit behind.
I know I did.   
  

    
Wow.  Kinda makes me want to go back to Rochester for next year's
festival (I grew up there but haven't been in many years).
  

    
It'd be well worth the trip! The festival is the best thing to happen
to Rochester in a good, long time. The line-up is diverse and top-notch
and a club pass gets you access to just about everything. Highly
recommended.

BTW, tomorrow morning at 8AM EST I have a radio interview about GUD
airing on WNTI radio out of New Jersey. The interview can also be heard
online at: http://www.wnti.org

Hell, while I'm plugging away, here are links to some other GUD
related media:

GUD Reading from Books Inc in San Francisco:
http://fora.tv/2009/06/04/Peter_Conners_Growing_Up_Dead

Book Trailer (courtesty of my talented artist friend Steve Smock):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuron_SJ8UM

Straight up book website:
www.growingupdead.com

Straight up author website:
www.peterconners.com

Long podcast interview:
http://keyholemagazine.com/articles/peter-conners-growing-up-dead-interview

Links to other media, collaborations, interviews, etc.
http://peterconners.com/default.aspx?id=47
  

    
Peter, we gotta get you to come down to albuquerque sometime for the
oldest established permanent floating neverending Dead caucus in the
southwest.