Then I started reading the comments...you know, like you aren't supposed to...I began reading the comments.
Trey playing Jerry's parts? Say it ain't so!
Okay...back story time.
Jerry Garcia passed away in 1995 and the Grateful Dead haven't played as a cohesive unit, all of them together, for more than a handful of times in twenty years.
2015 is the 50th anniversary of the founding of the Grateful Dead. What a great time to put on three final shows at Soldier Field in Chicago, IL over the July 4th weekend.
Why Chicago? Chicago is close to the center of the country, making it somewhat accessible to the majority of fans. Additionally, Chicago is the location of the final show the Dead played prior to Jerry checking into rehab and his death.
There were a few choices to choose from in terms of guitarists and vocalists, but the band went with Trey Anastasio (of Phish Phame) and at that point the haters started hating.
I admit it; I tried getting into Phish back in the day, and never really acquired the taste. But I wasn't familiar enough with Trey's playing--even though he's played a few times in one or maybe two iterations of the Post-Grateful Dead Grateful Dead--to make any kind of a judgment about whether or not he was good enough. Mostly I was concerned with hearing the band perform live post-Jerry Garcia, and feeling sad and not being able to appreciate the music regardless of who got to play in Jerry's place.
So, for once, I was glad to be living in Okinawa and unable to even entertain the idea of seeing these shows. Then I saw the live-streaming Pay Per View option and, since I was actually going to be home for a few days, purchased the three night stand of the Fare Thee Well shows in Chicago.
Yesterday--July 3rd--the band played their first of three shows and they played well. They played more than well. It was amazing. Today they played a monster second show and it was even more amazing.
Another bit of back story: In 1994 and 1995 I dropped out of work a few times to chase down the Grateful Dead at Shoreline Amphitheater, LA Sports Arena, and in Las Vegas. Then Jerry died in August 1995, and as far as I could tell, so did the music.
But I learned--in those few shows--about family that happens where you least expect it, and I learned about a communal vibe of happiness and joy. And I feared that with the death of the music so would be the death of that community. And for about 20 or so years, for me, it was.
Except when people would nod and smile at my Steal Your Face ball cap; and the nods and smiles from the Okinawan couple that owns my favorite bagel place just down on the sea wall who always say how much they like my shirts when I walk in wearing a tie dye or a Grateful Dead Tee. I knew the family was there, but the shared joy was missing.
There have still been recordings and CD's and podcasts, but all the listening has been without community. And my biggest fear of watching shows as Pay Per View live streams was of watching the shows from afar and missing my "Grateful Family."
Enter the hashtags...and no, not that kind of hash...
#dead50
#FareTheeWell
and #couchtour (for those of us watching and dancing from home)
these helped me find my family again as we called songs out of improvs and shared the joy of the music.
Even if there were times when it was like reading the comments after an article, I loved reconnecting with the community of Deadheads. I didn't know I missed them so much.
I missed the acceptance of strangers--all because we were seeking joy in music.
I missed the communion of the song--when the band and the crowd is in sync and you look at what someone close to you is saying or feeling and you know that you're in the same place that isn't really a place at all.
I miss strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand...
So back to what I meant to say at the beginning. I'm happy that I jumped in and opened my ears and my heart and my soul to the music again (even if I wasn't sure if I could do it in a post-Jerry world) because the music is beautiful, even if "we" (the collective we of the band and the audience) are getting old and missing words. It's beautiful.
The band pulled out one of my absolute favorite songs tonight, "Standing on the Moon." A song with Jerry's vocals, sometimes tender sometimes tired, and Jerry's lead guitar, with scorching solos. And as I lost myself in the song, I fell in love with it all over again for the very first time.
I hope we can all get back to a place where we can share in the joy of the music, even if we don't know what to expect. I hope we can all get back to a place where we see some kind of shared experience in the smile of a stranger.
Maybe there's a metaphor in here for something bigger, I don't know. I'm just happy to have experienced that extended family of Deadheads again. I've missed you.
More than anything, I'm happy to have the music again.
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