In addition to its depth and extent, the interdisciplinary discourse on the band is distinguished by the range of perspectives it encompasses, principally in the humanities and social sciences but extending into engineering and the sciences. The Dead were known for their live performances, thus it is fitting that much of the scholarly discussion about the band began with conference presentations, though many of the hundreds of those have been developed into articles, chapters, and books.
That work has achieved a level that now merits and can sustain more detailed and focused exegeses, which this series provides. The increasing sophistication of the scholarship on many of the contexts that the Dead’s achievement informs and entails—from the 1960s and the counterculture to many of the genres of music that the Dead’s work incorporates— highlights the band’s significance and makes plain the utility, and even centrality, of its example.
Academic work on rock music traditionally has challenged scholars on a number of levels, from basic issues of definition and demarcation to fundamental critical issues. Scholars continue to investigate a range of questions—from tradition and artistic intent to production and audience reception to cultural and historical dissemination—all framing an art form and informing a literature that show no signs of diminishing, even as they both continue to undergo drastic changes. The volumes in Studies in the Grateful Dead participate in and often directly address these contexts, offering readers a unique lens for illuminating and exploring the wealth of issues raised by one of the most enduring and significant phenomena in popular culture.
Nicholas G. Meriwether
Acknowledgments
This book has been prepared, researched, and written in both close vicinity to and at a certain distance from its object. Closeness was granted me by the University of California, Berkeley, and the Grateful Dead Archive at the University Library of the University of California, Santa Cruz: Closeness both to the sources and to the air that the Grateful Dead breathed. But critical writing seems to also depend on a dialectic of closeness and distance: My employer, the Department of Culture and Aesthetics, Stockholm University, as well as the National Library of Sweden, Stockholm, have made my reading and writing from a distance possible.
The life and times of a rock band can be documented in different ways, and the Grateful Dead must be one of the most (if not the most) documented bands ever. Still, there is much detailed knowledge and atmosphere that can only be relayed orally. I am honored by the hard work as well as the friendship of Nicholas G. Meriwether, Grateful Dead Archivist at UC Santa Cruz, and a living source on the history of the band, written and oral. Nicholas is a historian, an utterly careful writer in his own right, as well as the most generous scholar. The work he has done for the Archive is what makes this and future studies on the band possible.
Other scholars, fans and skeptics alike, also have contributed—probably more than they realize. Peter Richardson (lecturer at San Francisco State University), who himself has written a splendid book on the band, generously read and commented on my manuscript. So did a few Swedish friends: Johan Fornäs (professor of Media Studies, Södertörn University College) offered a meticulous reading of my manuscript, as did my colleague at Stockholm University, Bosse Holmqvist (professor of the History of Ideas), and Erling Bjurström (professor emeritus, Linköping University). Johan Petri (Gothenburg University) shared his knowledge of the literature on improvisation. Stefan Helgesson and Frida Beckman, both of the English Department at Stockholm University, invited me to try out a few ideas in the form of lectures.
Two readers of the manuscript, unknown to me, generously shared their obvious insights and knowledge about the band in their respective peer reviews.
My San Francisco friend, “music industry veteran,” entrepreneur, free spirit, Jewish activist, and editor, David Katznelson, took me to different shows in San Francisco so that I could hear something other than just Dead music—and to have some “gris-gris” along the road.
While on the left coast, I have enjoyed the discussions and the erudition of the Frankfurt School Working Group, University of California, Berkeley, with Erin Greer and Megan O’Connor as its unifying center.
My editors at the University of California Press, first Mary Francis and after her Eric Schmidt, have believed in and supported the writing of this book.
Early ideas for this book have been discussed at different conferences. The open-minded and generous intellectual climate of the Grateful Dead Scholars Caucus and its annual congregations at the Southwest American/Popular Culture Association meetings in Albuquerque, New Mexico, have been of a fundamental importance: those gatherings showed to me that perhaps I could have something to say about a band, whose music I listen to and always will listen to. I hope this book fulfills that promise and indeed says something about the Grateful Dead that has not been said before.
My wife, Linda Haverty Rugg (professor of Scandinavian Studies, UC Berkeley), patiently corrected my English and drove me to Santa Cruz and San Rafael, Mountain View and Santa Clara, for archival or field studies. But Linda not only took the wheel when I was seeing double, her critical mind was always open to discussions on how to do things with words, and how to find out ways to make writing generate a shared understanding. Her probing questions, her deep understanding of language—written and spoken—and her demands for clarity drove me on, even when I found myself lost in writing.
Sometimes one loses oneself in writing—as well as in music. The Grateful Dead’s music has been and remains a deep well, one in which I find myself transformed, lost, renewed—or just happily smiling. The art, example, and work that define and inform the Grateful Dead phenomenon are the wellspring that nourished this volume and will continue to do so, for many others, for many years.
Introduction
On February 24, 1974, the Grateful Dead played at Winterland in San Francisco, California. The show, presented by Bill Graham, also was introduced by the promoter, who said “Whatever is going on in the rest of the world, if it’s war or kidnappings or crimes, this is a peaceful Sunday night with the Grateful Dead.” Indeed; this was just one of the fifty-nine shows that the Grateful Dead played at Winterland; one more night, then, in the life of a hardworking rock and roll band.
And, could we add, perhaps one more night protected from the evils of society? Maybe. The band played what could be called its standard repertoire, including “Dark Star,” probably their most requested song and their most frequently used vehicle for improvisation; and still, at that time, often performed live. This night, they feel their way into “Dark Star,” trying different sound figures, until they find a groove sixteen minutes in. When the music gels, the playing takes on an obvious jazz feel—and this Sunday evening is transformed into something special, turning (I imagine) an audience of a few thousand people into one dancing body. The Grateful Dead created that magic innumerable times during the band’s thirty-year career. Moreover, this transcending of the merely mundane was an aesthetic feat, and was not the effect of drugs. I did not attend that show. I listened to it on a CD (Dave’s Picks 13), and I am absolutely sober. This twenty-nine-minute interpretation might not be the most spectacular or aesthetically radical “Dark Star” the band ever played—they do not take it out to absolute atonality and distortion—not until twenty-four minutes have passed, when Jerry Garcia suddenly, and for just a short time, generates a formidable noise out of his guitar, while the rest of the band suggests something of a Spanish or Latin groove. But still, the music played this evening touches me, hits me with its power: the music cuts through the body, torments it, reminds it of another life that is at hand—in the music itself. Perhaps this music wasn’t so much about withdrawing from society; on the contrary, even now it seems intended to intensify the experience of contemporary life.
It is in improvisation that the Grateful Dead found and formed itself, even though the song, and the song format, grew more and more important with time. Improvisation meant that the band had to invent
