The Perfect Eulogy from Dylan to Jerry

There’s no way to measure his greatness or magnitude as a person or as a player. I don’t think any eulogizing will do him justice. He was that great, much more than a superb musician, with an uncanny ear and dexterity. He’s the very spirit personified of whatever is Muddy River country at its core and screams up into the spheres. He really had no equal. To me he wasn’t only a musician and friend, he was more like a big brother who taught and showed me more than he’ll ever know. There’s a lot of spaces and advances between The Carter Family, Buddy Holly and, say, Ornette Coleman, a lot of universes, but he filled them all without being a member of any school. His playing was moody, awesome, sophisticated, hypnotic and subtle. There’s no way to convey the loss. It just digs down really deep...BOB DYLAN 

Every time I read this press release from Dylan the day after Garcia’s passing (8-10-95) I get choked up because in one paragraph, Dylan captures the essence of Jerry. It’s an elegant portrait, one that any fan of Garcia’s loves. Each thought from Dylan states something essential to what made Jerry Garcia such a beloved musician and person.

There’s no way to measure his greatness or magnitude as a person or as a player. For those who loved Jerry’s music, we never needed validation of his greatness. He never won Grammy Awards, or was voted the greatest guitar player in Rolling Stone. Just having the exquisite musical taste to enjoy his music is an eternal blessing. In his thirty years of public service with the Grateful Dead and Jerry Garcia Band, he gave more of himself to his fans than any other musician, with the possible exception of Dylan. Work eight days a week and baby give it all to you. That’s what love will for you. That’s what love will make you do. Dylan and Garcia were friends for twenty-five years, but their friendship grew deeper during the last ten years of Jerry’s life. For those of us who never met Jerry, we got to know him intimately threw his music, which was filled with compassion, inspiration, and wisdom.

I don’t think any eulogizing will do him justice. Many brilliant and kind souls tried, but Dylan’s press release came as close to doing Jerry justice as anything.

He was that great, much more than a superb musician, with an uncanny ear and dexterity. He’s the very spirit personified of whatever is Muddy River country at its core and screams up into the spheres. There are a lot of superb musicians, but there was only one Jerry. From Old Weird America and the Delta Blues to anything that was authentic Americana, Jerry weaved through this terrain and glorified the best of that expansive milieu.

He really had no equal. Amen.

To me he wasn’t only a musician and friend, he was more like a big brother who taught and showed me more than he’ll ever know: Dylan was a year older than Jerry, and if anything, Jerry probably saw Dylan as the big brother. I think what Dylan is getting at here is the calming warmth, patience, and trust that Garcia exhibited. Garcia had a knack for trusting those around him for good or ill. Throughout his career he had faith in the members of his bands, and the extended family that surrounded him. Dylan seemed to trust in nobody but himself, but that changed after his time touring with the Grateful Dead. He adopted the non-stop Grateful Dead touring philosophy, and he’s employed bassist Tony Garnier for the last twenty-eight years, drummer George Receli has been there for fifteen years, and lead guitarist Charlie Sexton has been with Bob for more than ten years. Jerry was a reliable friend and calming influence during a turbulent time in Dylan’s life. When Dylan couldn’t find the essence and joy of his own songs, he turned to Garcia, because he knew Jerry had tuned into the spirit and essence of Dylan’s songs when he covered them.

There’s a lot of spaces and advances between The Carter Family, Buddy Holly and, say, Ornette Coleman, a lot of universes, but he filled them all without being a member of any school. Garcia always put his own distinctive stamp on songs that he covered, elongating, magnifying, and celebrating the creation without copying it. He explored the nooks and crannies around, and within, the melodies, hooks, and riffs. Time constraints were disregarded when Jerry was covering a tune he loved. He never tried to imitate or show up the original artist, he just wanted to share his passion for the song. Everything Jerry played was an original even if it was a cover, and it always had a distinctive style that excluded being a member of any school.

His playing was moody, awesome, sophisticated, hypnotic and subtle. Those are the perfect adjectives to describe Garcia’s playing. In that regard, he’s more like Miles Davis than any other musician.

There’s no way to convey the loss. It just digs down really deep. There will never be another Jerry Garcia. Just think of the pleasure he would have had covering Dylan songs from albums like Time Out of Mind and Love & Theft. Somewhere in God’s heaven Jerry heard Dylan’s words (eulogy) and he’s still smiling. And fans of Jerry are still smiling because he left us a treasure trove of music that will continue to inspire us for as long as we live.

Dylan and Garcia Highgate, Vermont '95

 Books by Howard F. Weiner

 

 

Dylan and the Grateful Dead: A Tale of Twisted Fate on Amazon

 

 DEADOLOGY: The 33 Essential Dates of Grateful Dead History

Alpine Valley Revisited, 35th Anniversary

During the summer of 1982, a few weeks after seeing Jerry Garcia Band at Music Mountain, I met my friend Doug to shoot hoops at Tennyson Park, in my hometown of Nanuet, New York.  Doug was waiting for me, leaning against his yellow Caddy and spinning a red, white, and blue ABA basketball on his index finger. The windows were rolled down, and “Casey Jones” was cranking. He said, “Howie, I got a proposition for you. You’re gonna love this idea. It’s right up your alley. The Dead are in Wisconsin next weekend at the Alpine Valley Music Theatre. We can get tickets from Ticketron. Howie, picture this: We are outdoors with Jerry in the Midwest next Saturday night. I hear this place is amaaaaazing! Can you imagine how hot Garcia will be in the Midwest? It’s only a sixteen-hour drive. Let’s do it. Whattaya say?”

 I pulled up in front of the Doug’s house in my maroon Chevy Caprice Classic before noon on Friday, August 6. We wanted to tackle the bulk of our sixteen-hour-trip in one day and cruise into East Troy, Wisconsin, triumphantly on Saturday. Doug emerged from his house with a duffel bag slung across his torso and a box of Maxell cassettes carefully balanced in his right palm like a tray with Dom Perignon. Stepping into my car, he admired his precious cargo and said, “Howie, these tapes are bad news for Van Halen fans.” It was a smug remark—one that a Garcia junkie could appreciate. Comparing anybody to Jerry was comical to us. We understood Garcia’s virtuosity, and we had to let everybody else know. Despite the fact that the Dead’s latest studio efforts were lame, the legend of Garcia was growing, and his cult following was on the rise. 

I picked up two other cats and headed on to 80 West and claimed the fast lane and refused to budge—left hand steering, right hand juggling java, joints, Marlboros, and boots. Endless Pennsylvania seemed bleak—blue collar town followed blue collar town through Amish Country, insane amounts of highway construction and detours along the way. We ran into three thunder storms, or maybe it was the same one chasing after us. A couple of hours after the sun set, we crossed the Ohio border and stopped for food in Youngstown. This was as far west as I’d ever traveled in my life. Fueled by caffeine, and perhaps a bit of yayo, I managed to make it to a rest area just across the border of Indiana and slipped into a spot between tractor trailers for a nap around 4AM. Four Deadheads and 100 truckers were motionless beneath the stars, but they were still tearing down the road in their dreams. 

On Saturday morning, we blew by Chicago, purchased a road map, and found a quaint cabin in Lake Geneva by noon. We had stumbled upon a wonderful Wisconsin resort town, and the weather was perfect—ah-hoooo! Cotton-candy clouds in sapphire skies dangled over a crystal clear lake. This expedition turned up nothing but gold, and the impending jam was still a seed in Jerry’s mind. 

Our heroes opened with a Music Never Stopped -> Sugaree ->Music Never Stopped loop. The band had rewarded me for my dedication with a combination that was never played before and would never be played again. This alone validated the journey to Wisconsin. In the middle of the set they played the only version of “On the Road Again” that I would see. Garcia raged on, peppering away on the set ending “Let It Grow.” Weir shouted the lyrics at Jerry, begging him to deliver: “Let it grow, let it grow, greatly yield.” And yield, Garcia did. It’s a guitar lover’s feast offering three separate instrumental segments. The long, sophisticated middle jam contained three distinctive movements within—smoking hot and balanced like a complex mathematical equation. Over the past 35 years I’ve probably listened to this version 5,000 times. 

Set two opened with a robust Cat > Rider. After 1974, the best Cats are from the 81-82 period. After drums there was an extraordinary Wheel > Playin’ followed by a Dew that was incredibly exciting in the moment, but the big jam was unusually short. This was the tenth show of the 152 I’d see over the years, and the power of this music has proven to be eternal. What a great call it was to make the pilgrimage to Alpine Valley. I was only nineteen, and much wiser than I ever realized. 

 Check out my new book:  Dylan and the Grateful Dead: A Tale of Twisted Fate on Amazon 

Other books by Howard F, Weiner 

 

Fifteen Most Thrilling Grateful Dead Moments

In honor of Jerry Week, I compiled my fifteen most thrilling moments during my days as a Deadhead which began in Madison Square Garden on 3-9-81. I'm not ranking the best performances I've seen, just the most exciting ones in the moment. Dylan and the Dead at Giants Stadium on 7-12-87 was the most thrilling show I've seen but this list is exclusively Grateful Dead.

15. 8-7-82 Alpine Valley: Music Never Stopped > Sugaree > Music Never Stopped…I was greeted with this one-time-only combo on my first road trip from New York to the Midwest.  These were two of my favorite tunes, and I was stunned to hear Music as the opener. The execution of this opener wasn’t on par with the inventiveness, but it ignited one of the best shows of the year.

14. 11-10-85 Brendan Byrne Arena: Feel Like a Stranger…I missed the first three songs due to a chaotic scene trying to get in. The energy inside boiled during Cassidy. Feel Like a Stranger, a hit or miss number, closed the set, and on this evening, it was a jam beyond perfection.

13. 3-26-88: Hampton Coliseum: All Along the Watchtower…Garcia en fuego on solos two and three. If you can pardon Weir’s falsetto screams, this is savage and primal Jerry. I was bouncing off  the coliseum floor like a jackhammer.

12. 4-20-83 Providence Civic Center: Eyes of the World…I think I set a post ’73 Deadhead record by having to attend 22 shows before seeing my first Eyes of the World. At my first show I saw Estimated > Uncle John’s. I saw Estimated > Fill in the blank, but Eyes alluded me until this night in Providence. When they broke into Eyes I was the most thrilled person in Providence, and is if Jerry knew the significance of the occasion, he proceeded to whittle away at the extended jams, making it one of the best Eyes of the decade.

11. 9-15-82 Cap Centre Landover: Playin’ in the Band > Crazy Fingers > Dupree’s Diamond Blues…Playin’ shocked in the opening slot, and when they segued into Crazy Fingers, I thought the band may have altered their traditional format for this show. The first East Coast Dupree’s in the third hole added to the arcane excitement.

10. 7-4-86 Rich Stadium, Buffalo: Cold Rain & Snow > Fire on the Mountain > Sampson and Deliliah…It was a rough first set, and Garcia was ailing from dehydration and an abscessed tooth. Ominous clouds, thick raindrops, and howling winds accompanied the opener. Garcia’s guitar work on Fire is outrageous. The band also rocked on a three-song segment simulcast for Farm Aid. Garcia’s performance was heroic.

9. 9-23-87 Philadelphia Spectrum: The Music Never Stopped…Optimistic times for Dead Nation. Touch of Grey was a hit song, and Garcia seemed to be fully recovered from his near fatal coma. This blistering first set featured a brilliant Desolation Row, and culminated with this rambunctious Music Never Stopped, the best I ever witnessed. Garcia was back, and for a brief time, I believed that he might be better than ever before.  

8. 4-4-85 Providence Civic Center: Alabama Getaway > Jack Straw…First Alabama Getaway in more than a year, and this smoking version barrels into an edgy Jack Straw, setting the stage for a killer first set that concludes with Lost Sailor > Saint of Circumstance > Deal. There’s a brisk debut version of Dylan’s She Belongs to Me tucked in the middle.

7. 10-12-84 Augusta Civic Center, Maine: Playin’ in the Band > Uncle John’s Band > Morning Dew…The loop began with UJB > Don’t Need Love > Drums > Space before the band transitioned into a Playin’ reprise, although the song had never been started. The singing and jamming is mellifluous as the band rolls back into Uncle John’s, and concludes with the Holy Grail, a thunderous Morning Dew.

6. 10-11-83 Madison Square Garden: St. Stephen...Pandemonium! There were St. Stephen rumors, but it was still a shock to see The Boys break this out for the first time in four years. The palpable excitement almost made this performance tough to process. There were two more Stephens in October before the song was laid to rest.

5. 3-25-85 Springfield Coliseum: Jack Straw > Sugaree...Jerry's appearance was awful towards the end of 1984, but his guitar playing was still better than anyone on the planet. After a pair of subpar shows in Hampton to start the Spring 85 tour, I wondered why I was following the band. On this night in Springfield, Garcia and the band steamrolled through Jack Straw and Sugaree. Garcia attacked the jams like a Clydesdale on Bennies—scintillating guitar work that ensured that I’d be following GD for the forseeable future.

4. 10-12-83 Madison Square Garden: Help on the Way > Slipknot! > Franklin’s Tower…For the start of set two, I was behind the band looking out at Madison Square Garden. I always stood on the opposite side of Jerry, but on this night I looked out at the crowd as if I was in the band, and was blown away by the best version of this definitive Blues for Allah classic. Between the last verse of Help and the opening verse of Franklin’s, is the greatest ten-minute instrumental I’ve ever seen. Every twist and turn of this half-hour masterpiece is glorified.

3. 10-9-84 The Centrum, Worcester: Jack Straw, He’s Gone > Smokestack Lightning…I was front row face to face with Jerry. After Help > Slip > Frank’s, they played Jack Straw! Fourth song of set two! Unheard of. Garcia and Weir sang the wildest Nothing gone bring him back chant at the end of He’s Gone, and then Weir stepped to the mic and sang the first Smokestack Lightning since Pigpen. The mojo rolled all night lomg in Worcester.

2. 4-6-82 Philadelphia Spectrum: Morning Dew: This was my first road trip to see the Dead after an April blizzard blanketed my town, and much of New York State with a couple of feet of snow. My four favorite Dead tunes at the time were Shakedown Street, Terrapin Station, Morning Dew, and Sugar Magnolia. They played all four on this night, and it was the only time in the band’s history those four songs were played in the same show. When Garcia struck the magical Dew chord, I found my calling.

1. 9-18-87 Madison Square Garden: All Along the Watchtower >  Morning Dew...Miraculous. All of the positive emotion of Garcia’s triumphant comeback exploded on this Friday night in the Garden. This was the first time I heard the Dead play Watchtower without Dylan, and it was an explosive tribute to Dylan and Hendrix. I sensed Morning Dew around the corner, and knew this would be the first time these songs would be linked. The roar greeting Morning Dew was ridiculous, and it was five times louder when Jerry crooned “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway” before the concluding jam. It was like an earthquake in The Garden, louder than when the Knicks won the championship. Garcia calmly channeled the atomic energy into his guitar solo. At one point, he waived his guitar picking hand as if he was waving a wand before driving home the impossible climatic conclusion. He was only human, but Garcia possessed powers that defied reason—the ability to sense what was needed to seize the moment, and take it a step beyond our wildest imaginations. Happy 75^th Jerry!

Check out my new book:  Dylan and the Grateful Dead: A Tale of Twisted Fate on Amazon  
Other books by Howard F, Weiner