Monday, June 4, 2018

Whatever happened to the Grateful Dead? 1: Phil Lesh

The profile that follows was originally published in the weekly online magazine ‘Gonzo’, issue #222.  It was the first of a series of pieces I wrote for the magazine concerning former core members of the Grateful Dead, taking a look at their musical activities following the demise of the original band with Jerry Garcia’s death in 1995.

I felt that a lot of former ‘Deadheads’, especially here in the UK, had tended to lose interest in these guys’ activities, which seemed a shame as all four of them had, each in their own way, edged into new and worthwhile musical territories.  Obviously, those like me who did keep track could use the internet to keep abreast of their activities and access some of the music.  But for anyone who hadn’t bothered, I thought a few pointers towards selected highlights might be enough to rekindle interest.

My own interest is not so much on the live performance of the band’s old material, which – understandably in many ways – all four of them tend to fall back on.  Not that the reinterpretation of an old song hasn’t on many occasions wowed me, of course.  But it’s what they have done that is new and exploratory that excites me and on which I tend mainly to focus.  


                                            Image result for phil lesh
 
                                                             A Garland of Pearls

                            The post 1995 career of former Grateful Dead bassist, Phil Lesh.

“We treat it as a repertoire.  In Grateful Dead terms, that means every performance can be different.  All versions of the songs are true, just like a fairy tale,” said Phil Lesh in 2009 of the many songs he has been performing throughout his working life as a musician.  He was, at that time, engaged in a new band project with former Dead member Bob Weir, Furthur, which was to be his main focus for another three or four years.

The ‘long strange trip’ did not end with the death of lead guitarist Jerry Garcia and the disbandment of the Grateful Dead in 1995, but for Lesh it took a little while to regain velocity.  There were serious financial problems facing the organisation that had grown around the band, and Lesh himself had contracted hepatitis C, culminating in 1998 with a liver transplant that saved his life.  Although he’d been involved initially with the band’s first attempt to regroup as ‘The Other Ones’ in 1998, he’d withdrawn from the line-up after the release of their one official album, a two CD live set, ‘The Strange Remain’.

Upon his recovery he began to develop the idea that was to become ‘Phil Lesh and Friends’.  He had become aware that the ‘repertoire’ was being adopted by many other musicians, who not only played Grateful Dead songs but used them as a springboard for improvisation, in the same spirit as the Dead had done.  The idea was to play with these musicians in a fluid, ever-changing line-up, seeking fresh approaches to the Dead’s songs and also taking on board other material: tunes he’d long wished to play, along with those brought in by his ever-changing musical partners.

In his 2005 autobiography, ‘Searching for the Sound’, Lesh said of this concept:  “As a bandleader, I like nothing better than to plan shows in which I can string songs and improvisations together thematically, like a garland of pearls, and then encourage the musicians to step outside their standard way of thinking and play – completely in the context of the moment.  I continue to seek out multiple musical partners, in a quest for that elusive chemistry that comes and goes as it wishes.”  It was to prove a fertile inspiration and has continued to this day.

One of his first close and continuing colleagues in PL&F was Steve Kimock, a guitarist whose calibre was established over many years with his own band Zero.  Lesh's initial interest in working with Kimock had been consolidated when the guitarist had played with The Other Ones.  However, despite the bassist’s claim that he would always work with Kimock, that partnership lasted for only a year or so and the two have not played together again as far as I know.

Which was a shame as Kimock’s fluid and versatile guitar work wove elegantly with Lesh’s melodic and ever inventive bass lines, as can be heard particularly well on soundboard recordings of some of the first PL&F gigs, available for download on the Live Music Archive website.  For three nights at San Francisco’s Warfield Theatre they joined forces with Trey Anastasio and Page McConnell of the band Phish, plus drummer John Molo.  They established their territory with a 33 minute Viola Lee Blues, and the stratospheric impro continued through all three shows.  They delved into the Dead repertoire including numbers long since abandoned in the Garcia years such as ‘Alligator’ and ‘Mountains of the Moon’.  To these they added Dylan covers, songs from Phish’s repertoire plus one of Kimock’s, and an unexpected rendition of Pink Floyd’s ‘Wish You Were Here’.  As a statement of intent, those gigs stand tall.

More line-ups followed in hot succession.  Jorma Kaukonen of Hot Tuna/Airplane fame, UK keyboard/bass man Pete Sears and others within a month or so (official release ‘& Love Will See You Through’ – a double live highlights set).  Then came collaborations with the wonderful David Nelson Band, jam bands String Cheese Incident, Moe and Zen Tricksters, Little Feat, Merl Saunders and many more.  Lesh is, I think, an ethical and magnanimous sort of a gent (he has made a point of including a personally delivered organ donor appeal at every gig he’s played since 1998, not to mention his part in setting up the charitable Rex and Unbroken Chain Foundations) and in those days was happy to allow free soundboard recordings onto the internet.  They are well worth tracking down.

By 2001 it looked like the line up might be turning into something more fixed.  Lesh had begun a long lasting musical relationship with ex Allman Brothers and Gov’t Mule guitarist, the mighty Warren Haynes.  This version of PL&F, sometimes referred to as ‘The Quartet’, was rounded out by guitarist Jimmy Herring (Jazz is Dead), keyboard man Rob Barraco (Zen Tricksters) and then consistent drummer John Molo.  They developed some fairly standard sets and began to come up with new material including collaborations with Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter.  A surprise studio recorded album appeared in 02, ‘There and Back Again’.  There’s a strong set of melodic and vital material to be found on this album, and it’s one of my few regrets as regards PL&F that Lesh seems to have lost faith in these fine songs.  They are rarely if ever performed now, even when ‘The Q’ occasionally reunite.

In 2003 came the first incarnation of ‘The Dead’ as Lesh linked up once more with Weir, Kreutzmann and Hart, bringing Haynes, Herring and Barraco with him.  Something of the spirit of PL&F seemed to pervade this version of the band.  New material, interesting covers (‘Cortez the Killer’, ‘Eight Miles High’, ‘Milestones’) and GD rarities kept their sets less predictable, along with guest appearances by the likes of Steve Winwood and Willie Nelson.  They even got back together with Bob Dylan at one point.  Deadheads seem often to look down on these reunions, but personally I still find a lot to enjoy in live recordings from this period.  The addition of quality singer Joan Osborne at this time rang the changes still further for the good.

As both ‘The Q’ and the Dead went their separate ways in 04, PL&F reverted to its original concept and line ups varied throughout the next three or four years.  Lesh formed new links, many of which have continued on occasion to this day, with musicians such as jazz guitarist John Scofield, former Black Crowe Chris Robinson, singer songwriter Jackie Greene and musical couple Larry and Teresa Campbell – former sidekicks to Levon Helm at his Woodstock home based ‘rambles’.  Whilst I continue to applaud Lesh’s ever welcoming spirit, I did start to find some of these collaborations less appealing personally.

At this time another problem began to emerge for me in my appreciation of this music.  Not only was I listening to the PL&F recordings, but also some of Bob Weir’s Ratdog and a whole bunch more jam bands covering Grateful Dead songs.  Quite a lot of them were beginning to wear out for me.  No matter how well played, no matter how many fine instrumental interludes they contained, I was getting more than my fill of ‘Sugaree’, ‘Ramble on Rose’ et al.  Every version may be different, but the words and the core tune do tend to stay the same most of the time.  My tendency is now to look for the non-GD covers, the pieces the other musicians bring, the occasional newly written songs, and skip the rest – with some exceptions.  I no longer pay the same close attention I once did.

I found this to be the case with the second and shorter incarnation of The Dead in 2009 (though not without highlights) and the early days of the aforementioned Furthur.  In 2010 new songs did actually begin to creep into the latter’s repertoire, enough I reckon for them to have made a decent album.  I particularly enjoyed the ones newly written with Robert Hunter such as ‘Seven Hills of Gold’, ‘Big Bad Blues’ and ‘Colors of the Rain’.  There are some downloadable live versions of these excellent songs, but vocals tend often to be lost in the mix.  Studio versions of those three and a good few more would have been welcome.

It was, I read in one interview, Lesh himself who was least keen to record those versions.  I accept there is little income to be made from making albums, these days, and to a lesser extent Lesh’s argument that the songs are ever evolving, there are no ‘definitive’ versions.  But the songs can’t evolve if they aren’t played, can they?  To be fair, one survived – in more recent line ups, Lesh has repeatedly revisited ‘The Mountain Song’.  The origins of this one do go back to the early 70s and the sessions for Paul Kantner’s ‘Planet Earth Rock’n’Roll Orchestra’ project.  It can be heard as a ‘round’ on recordings bootlegged from that era with the singing of Garcia, Grace Slick and David Crosby amongst others.  It’s been rewritten since then by various folk at various times, Lesh’s version using lyrics written by Robert Hunter and arranged by his son Brian.  A stirring and lovely song.  Thanks for at least keeping that one alive, Phil.

After Furthur played its last gig, Lesh again went his own way.  He and his wife Jill had, around this time, set up a restaurant cum music venue in San Rafael, California, called Terrapin Crossroads – which, in some ways, was the realisation of a Grateful Dead dream project from somewhere back in the 1990s.  Although Lesh’s line ups still play some concert hall and festival venues, he has cannily used the premises to bring the music home, rather than keep it on the move.  Inspired in part by Levon Helm’s barn venue and the ‘rambles’ there, Lesh hosts jam bands aplenty, along with his own continuing projects.  These now include new assemblies involving his now grown and well musical sons, Brian and Grahame, such as the Terrapin Family Band.  A loose collective of mostly younger musicians play in these bands, with and without Lesh on bass.  One that has taken my interest is ‘Communion’ in which he does participate.  Although they started with GD repertoire pieces they have, on their occasional appearances, brought in some exciting new songs and well rearranged covers.  A refreshing take on the classic West Coast rock sound, in my opinion. 

PL&F at Terrapin largely concentrated, over a period of 3 or 4 years, on reproducing entire Grateful Dead shows or albums from the 60s onwards, a venture in which, for reasons established already, I had little interest.  Now and again, however, the excitement returns.  A concert in 2015 featured among the guests, notable and veteran jazz guitarist Bill Frisell, and on drums, Billy Martin of Medeski, Martin and Wood.  Although they did stick mainly to material from the repertoire, Frisell and Martin brought enough freshness and vitality to the jams to entirely overcome my ennui.  Another highlight from that period was a shorter set at the Lockn’ Festival featuring a three lead guitar line up of Warren Haynes, the David Nelson Band’s Barry Sless and none other than Carlos Santana.  Tasty.

That year also saw the Grateful Dead’s 50th anniversary and the surviving original members’ five ‘final’ shows, augmented by Trey Anastasio, keyboard player Jeff Chimenti and associate band member Bruce Hornsby.  A much heralded and multi-million dollar event, I’m sure it gave a lot of people a lot of pleasure but for me the ennui returned almost if not quite full on.  I’ve listened to all the shows and there are some nice versions of many of the songs, for sure.  The jams are pleasant, though for me lack the excitement of the Anastasio/Kimock pairing back in 1999.  The only bits that seem to hit new territory on the whole are the drums/space interludes.  Of the shows, the most interesting I found was the first, in which they played a set of entirely 1960s material.  Whilst I would probably prefer to go back and hear a Dead set that was actually recorded in the 60s, some of this worked well for me.  I suspect that Lesh had a lot to do with the choice.  As mentioned he’s been responsible for reviving long unplayed songs from this period, and at one point they even assay one of the more ‘out there’ numbers: ‘What’s Become of the Baby?’

To many people’s surprise, Weir, Kretzmann and Hart elected to continue working together after this event, bringing in guitarist John Mayer and others, under the name Dead and Company.  Lesh declined to join them.  Reaching his mid 70s he was understandably tired of relentless touring.  His current projects are, besides, probably of greater interest.  An occasional appearance with his former colleagues is, I would think, not out of the question.  But for me, such excitement and interest as I maintain will centre on Terrapin Crossroads and its community of musicians.  This would, to use a bit of 21st century jargon, appear to be a ‘hub’ of some considerable creativity.  Whilst I shall continue to avoid the songs of which I am weary, I intend to keep an eye and if at all possible an ear on whatever emerges that is experimental, adventurous and new.  And for that, again, thanks Phil.


                                       
                                                 Related image

Monday, May 7, 2018

Quorntroversy!

I’ve spent a large part of my life living with vegetarians.  I’ve never been one myself.  Thought about it at one stage of my life and decided I’d probably have to go the whole way if I was going to do it, veganism, no more leather shoes or belts, and being kind of lazy decided against it.  I do subscribe to the idea that human beings eat far too much meat and it is a grossly inefficient way to use the waning resources of our planet.  But that kind of dovetails with my own relative lack of interest in or strong desire for meat and my contentment with the idea of eating it occasionally and selectively.

But anyway, living with vegetarians tended to divert my cooking skills – such as they are – away from meat recipes and I built up a fair knowledge regarding how to use wholefoods etc.  Getting protein from pulse/cereal combinations or dairy products seemed to work for me.  But as the years went past, there were times when I got a bit tired of using the same products over and over.  Maybe I wasn’t being imaginative enough or looking in recipe books with sufficient enthusiasm, but I began look out for anything with which I could vary my diet – without going to too much extra effort.

Enter ‘quorn’.

I think I first heard about quorn when it was being marketed as a new product in the mid to late 1980’s.  At first I was snooty about it.  Why manufacture something to be like meat in the first place?  Also it seemed kind of pricey and I’ve lived most of my life on a tight budget.  So the best part of 25 years passed without me trying it, as far as I can remember.  It wasn’t ‘til I found myself in a new relationship with a woman who’d taken to using the stuff, utilising it in some rather pleasant recipes, that I realised what I’d been missing.

I’m not sure it would convince any confirmed beefsteak fanatics.  But if you cook it right, you can add a lot of flavour to it and –particularly in its ‘chunk’ form - it has for me an agreeable texture.  Great in curries, wraps, casseroles and more.  And some of the quorn products turned out to be tasty too, burgers and escalopes and such.  So far so good.

However, times and partners have changed, and my received wisdom on this is under question once more.  Quorn is a microfungus, derived from soil mould and grown in vats.  It is subsequently heated and vitamins and nutrients are added to it.  It is a ‘processed’ product.  We are told that certain processed foods are bad for us – reconstituted meat products being a prime example.  Could it be, it was suggested to me, that quorn might be in the same bracket?

It was an upsetting question.  I’d got used to using the stuff, enjoying it in many of its marketed forms, and it seemed cheaper these days.  Would I have to go back to my old pre-quorn ways?

Well, on the home front, I’m still working to defend it.  I’ve been thinking about the word ‘processed’ and what it really means.  ‘Food processing is the transformation of cooked ingredients, by physical or chemical means into food, or of food into other forms,’ says Wikipedia.  So it includes cooking, mincing, slicing and dicing, and pickling for example.  As far as I know no such processes has an intrinsic tendency to make food ‘bad for us’, far from it in a lot of cases.  It is pretty much inseparable from the concept of cooking.  Or so I tell myself. 

Not only that but I’ve yet to locate any information regarding health issues associated with quorn consumption.  Okay, I haven’t looked that hard, so if – oh you precious and rare readers of this blog – you have come across any such information, do please let me know.  I will view it with an initially sceptical eye, of course, but I’m always open to good evidence. 

I have to go now.  My stomach’s rumbling and quorn burgers await me.

Incidentally I’ve received no financial or other incentives from Marlow Foods for this blog.  Chance’d be a fine thing…


Monday, April 23, 2018

Our Flying Dog

With my partner at this time, I go to an animal rescue centre and we return home having taken possession of a flying dog.  It has ginger fur and in some ways resembles a corgi, but it is also bat-like.  It has very large, furry ginger wings that make a ‘swish’ sound when it flies.  Take-offs and landings can sometimes be a bit dodgy, but up in the air it moves with grace and elegance.

It seems to take to living in our home, and although it is perfectly capable of flying out of our sight and covering considerable distances, the dog always returns to us.  In fact, usually on return, it is pleased to see us.  There is tail wagging, eye contact and a clear desire to be stroked and made a fuss of.  It has a strong healthy appetite and we feed it on a 50:50 mixture of dog and bird food – on which it thrives.

We train the dog to carry messages to family and friends.  At first we encourage it to carry the messages by mouth, but they tend to arrive somewhat chewed and saliva sodden.  So we devise a pouch which we attach to its collar, and after dealing with one or two aerodynamic issues, we find this works very well.  We send messages only to those who will treat our dog kindly, and feed it or give it treats before it makes the return journey.

Whenever it departs, bearing a message, we stand outside our house – which is high on a hillside – and watch it swish and soar away over woodland below us until it is out of sight.  Back inside our house there is a sense of absence.  We look forward to the day and hour when it will reappear, barking to announce its arrival if we are not outside awaiting it.  Often it will have brought back an answer to one of our messages.  Somehow this always seems the best way to keep in contact with our friends and family members.

In our living room we have a large cushion filled basket where our dog sleeps.  Like many a dog, it likes to circle round and round in its basket as if making some kind of considered choice, before settling to lie down and sleep.  The last thing it does before closing its eyes is to lazily open its wings, stretching them up, then relaxing them so that they drape over the sides of the basket, their tips touching the carpeted floor.


Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Paving Slab Earthquake

Working with and supervised by a more knowledgeable gent, I find myself modifying a stretch of paving.  We are replacing old metal drain covers with more decorative ones.  It’s challenging labour for me, since I am not a physically strong person, but somehow the work seems to be getting done.

Temporarily alone, I notice that one of the drain covers I’m trying to lay is not a good fit, and I start shifting and re-arranging the paving slabs around it so that I can improve on this.  People are passing me by on the street while I work, and after moving slabs for a while I look up and notice that the people I am seeing are distressed.  It turns out that – unnoticed by me – there has been a small earthquake.  Apparently, the cause of this earthquake is me, moving paving slabs.  Beyond the part where I have been working, the scene looks disastrous.  Parts of the paving have collapsed completely into huge, open potholes, others totter precariously.  People are trying to keep their balance, and/or jumping and running towards more secure surfaces elsewhere.

I turn from this scene to look down at the place where I have been working.  I notice that, as in an archaeological dig, I have exposed older layers of paving from decades ago – some with thick glass slabs inserted amongst the stones, others with just tarmac.  I find this interesting, but mainly I’m feeling guilty on account of being the cause of the recent earthquake.

But at this point my supervisor and fellow worker returns.  He tells me not to worry, it’s not my fault, it’s the Council’s.  All I’ve done is to expose an underlying fault in the way the upper layer of slabs was laid, and it will be the Council’s responsibility to come and fix it.  I’m not so sure he’s right.  I feel I ought to do something about it, but I’ve no idea what and all of a sudden the idea of moving paving slabs at all seems impossibly difficult.  So I accept what he says, and we leave.

A little further on we see a group of people milling around parked cars on the roadside.  Unsure what they might be doing, I ask my worldly-wise companion.  He tells me they are checking to ensure that none of the cars are parked too closely together.

Monday, March 19, 2018

The Unidentifiable Factory Job


I have a job in a factory.  It’s something on the administrative side, possibly involving the gathering or processing of data.  It appears that I am contriving to spend time not actually doing my job.  I am managing to get away with hanging out on city streets, looking in shops, going to cafes and visiting friends of mine who are at home.  When I do go back to the factory – where men are working at big lathe-like machines – no one seems to be aware that I am skiving.  Not only that, but the truth is that I can’t actually remember what my job consists of.  When I talk to other people in the factory, especially to any other admin workers I encounter, I try surreptitiously to pick up clues about what it is that I am supposed to be doing there.  If I am directly asked about anything that I am doing, I seem to be able to get away with bluffing, using what little I do know to give an impression of someone who knows what he is doing.  I’m starting to feel increasingly guilty about this.  Everyone in the factory seems to like me and to be quite happy with whatever it is that they think I am doing.  I feel that I owe it to them to be doing my job properly.  If only I knew what it was…



Thursday, March 8, 2018

Relatively Little Noir - thoughts on my work after reading M John Harrison


Invited to review it for the estimable ‘Tears in the Fence’ magazine, I have recently finished reading M. John Harrison’s collection of stories and short pieces titled: ‘You Should Come With Me Now’.  Though aware of MJH and having read some of his stories but none of his books over the years, I had mixed feelings about what I’d read.  However, you can read about those as and when the review gets published – hopefully later this year.

But it did get me thinking about some aspects of writing and why, in my own, I make certain choices and not others. 

M. John Harrison has embraced the word ‘hauntology’ to describe some aspects of his work.  I first came across this term in the early 2000s in association with arty music ventures by the bands Broadcast and The Focus Group.  It seemed to relate to their interest in 1970s visions of the future in TV drama series such as ‘The Survivors’ and the later ‘Quatermass’ productions, with musical reference to the BBC Radiophonic workshop and it productions.  The word now has a fairly sophisticated definition in Wikipedia: ‘The term refers to the situation of temporal, historical, and ontological disjunction in which the apparent presence of being is replaced by a deferred non-origin, represented by "the figure of the ghost as that which is neither present, nor absent, neither dead nor alive.".’  How you get from the first reference to the latter, I leave with you – but Harrison I think is talking about the latter.  Many of his stories play on a sense of liminal presence that is never quite clearly defined.

The ones I felt were most successful were not easy or comfortable reading.  Nor I suppose are conventional horror stories, but they tend to be a form of entertainment on the whole - the cerebral equivalent of a roller coaster ride, you might say.  The stories that affected me in Harrison’s book lacked that sense of visceral satisfaction (if that’s what you get).  Instead, I felt, they delved into all the layers of human corruption – in the broadest possible sense of the word.  Physical and mental illness, obsessive thoughts and behaviour, alienation, disjunction, etc.  They left me with a queasy feeling, which – on the positive side – disrupted my complacency, but at the same time made me uncomfortable with the very state of being human.

Clearly something of an acquired taste!  Another writer whose work frequently delves into this mire is Alan Moore, but I have the advantage of knowing Alan well enough to know that his moral compass can be trusted.  His horrors have a purpose and are often balanced by the beatific.  Harrison I can’t be so sure about – especially where his stories lose me, as a good few did.

Okay, so the question is – this is interesting material, why don’t I explore it more myself in my stories?  I don’t completely shy away from it, as there are certainly a few of the stories in ‘Wilful Misunderstandings’ which touch on this territory.  But my tendency is to add other elements, humour being a primary one.  (I should add that there is humour in Harrison’s book but it is very dark and dry.)  So my story ‘Marinating Jeff’ could conceivably be a Harrison scenario, but my choice of storytelling mode was curiously lighthearted.  Why?  I’m not sure – maybe it was the only way I could handle the material.

But the majority of the stories take in a more positive approach to human nature.  It’s not that I feel some kind of fuzzy, new-agey view of my fellow human beings – far from it.  I think we have let ourselves become well and truly fucked by corporate capitalism and by far the majority of us have our heads buried in the sand about it.  What we think of as ‘civilisation’ has proved entirely dysfunctional.  Nevertheless, on an individual level and often at a local community level, I find I can’t help liking and loving my fellow human beings.

There is a saying: ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’ and I don’t doubt there is truth in it.  But without good intentions, I think we’d have arrived in hell already.  So let’s not under-value them.  I can’t put a figure on it, but I suspect that most of us try to live good lives.  Our understanding of the situation may be too poor to be in any way effective, but we try to do right by our fellow human beings and the planet on which we depend.  There’s a lot of self-delusion in this of course and I include myself amongst the deluded.  With a more enlightened system of education, and relieved from ever-insidious corporate propaganda designed to keep us consuming, we could conceivably do better.  So I don’t want to lose myself in cynicism and negativity.  I want to celebrate people, as well as explore their failings.

Looking into the dark side has its values – our perspective is skewed if we ignore it or try to hide away from it.  I’ll confront it in my writing when it seems appropriate (certainly the novel I’m working on has some very dark aspects).  But I’ll leave it as much as I can to those who probably do it better than me.

Tough job.  Someone’s got to do it.  Thank-you Alan, thank-you MJ, and also William Burroughs, Albert Camus, Jean Genet, Jim Thompson, Samuel Beckett – to name but a few predecessors - for going there, finding something worth saying and bringing it to the attention of at least some of the reading world.  I’ll continue to follow my own intuitions, in somewhat more well-lit land.


                                                                    M John Harrison