By Will McGraw
As lead guitarist Jerry Garcia himself put it, “We’re like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.”
Despite having one of the widest, most passionate, and most reputably recognizable fanbases of all musical groups, the Grateful Dead often also seems to have some of the most polarizing receptions from listeners. This doesn’t mean that everyone either hears the Dead’s stuff as cluttered, gibberish-filled rambles or falls into the camp that takes time off work just to follow them around in full tie-dye; Rather, it simply seems that most everyone can give a simple and definite “yea” or “nay” to the sound; at least more so than other groups, where many might fall squarely in the middle.
My personal experiences with the group certainly speak to this. The dominance of classic rock in my taste comes directly from my parents’ influence. Although I actively prefer the genre and era over others on my own and have found personal favorites independently from my mom’s and dad, there is no doubt that I would not have been exposed to this particular peak of auditory brilliance that thrived from the mid-60s to around the mid/end of the 90s (much is to be contested with this time frame, I’m aware) without their introduction. However, despite my vehement love for the band, my first impression of the Grateful Dead was that they were not worth my time. While exploring the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame in my youth, an exhibit dedicated to the group was on display. When I asked my father, “Who are these guys? Are they as good as the others we’ve seen today?” I was met with a curled lip, a halfhearted shrug, and a distinctive “Eh, no. I was never into them. ‘Touch of Grey’ is their only song that I like.”
For years afterward, I never touched any of the Dead’s music, having written them off just based on this single secondhand impression. As my music taste developed and I went on a carousel of artists/groups, I eventually ran into the Dead enough to warrant giving at least their hits a listen. It was here that I dipped my toes into the water with “Touch of Grey” and “Casey Jones,” the latter already being a cultural staple that I was aware of thanks to its iconic chorus. Beyond this, “Sugar Magnolia” and “Bertha” eventually made their way into the mix. At this point, I appreciated the change in sound that the Dead provided from my mostly hard/blues rock-focused library, though I would still have mostly put myself in the “nay” category. The handful of songs I liked would prove useful when I needed some pure stress relief from the “hippies,” but that was the extent to which I would dabble with the Dead.
And then one day, it all clicked. Though it’s hard to truly nail down the exact moment where the switch was flipped, I’d wager to say it was the first time I heard their 1974 hit “Scarlet Begonias” while sitting in study hall during my sophomore year of high school. Never before had I heard a Grateful Dead song, or any song for that matter, that sounded quite like this. The complementary, two-headed groove of the lead and rhythm guitars, the fluid yet skip-like push of the keyboards and percussion, the passion-laden lead vocals standing amid a chorus of pure positivity. It was the perfect storm of sound that was simply downright “cool.” Once the connection was made on that song, the rest of the band’s stuff started to make a whole lot more sense.
As much as one needs to figure out the music of the Dead themselves, one also needs to come to grips with the sound relative to everything else they’ve heard, as there is nothing else quite like it. This one avenue into the greater universe (musically and culturally) that was The Grateful Dead was a crucial factor that my entire future love for the band depended on, but once I got it, it was all I needed. Every other song that I had initially overlooked or couldn’t quite appreciate was experienced in a new light and took a completely different form than in my first listens. I was hearing the same song, yes, but now I knew the people and instruments behind it. I knew what they were capable of, what they were about, and what they were trying to do.
Many may be completely lost at this point, which I wholeheartedly understand. Through countless conversations, however, I know that the phenomenon I describe is quite common. After our mutual love for the Dead came under scrutiny from other family members, my cousin and I shared our stories of getting into the music and defending our appreciation which hasn’t faded since. Even as the others dismissed us and claimed we overrate the boys from Palo Alto, my cousin turned, smiled, and shook his head with a knowing look. “They just don’t get it, man.”
With Dead and Company’s 2023 summer tour being their last, this trek is the final opportunity for listeners to attend a show of the closest thing this generation will ever get to the original band. Dead and Company unquestionably do the music justice and seeing them got me further and further into the deep library of Grateful Dead tracks. I would highly recommend seeing a show to anyone, regardless of their appreciation for the sound. You may find yourself much more inclined toward their stuff than you anticipated, or, if you’re already a fan, your listening pleasures will undoubtedly be enhanced. Even if you can’t imagine getting down with the Dead’s grooves, going to a show is as much a sociological experience as it is a musical one. Worst case, you come away with a glimpse into one of the most interesting and intoxicating pockets of culture.
Whether you see them live or not, however, getting into the Dead can prove to be a challenge, both with a massive amount of content available and a wide variety of sounds from thirty years of studio recording and close to sixty years of live work. Many firmly state that the Dead are better live, and while this is probably true, things are not quite that black and white. The band has been clear that they never play the same song the same way, and they fully admit that they have both their good shows and “not so good” ones. Considering the multiple lineup changes and stylistic differences throughout the years, it would be quite misguided to hold a “St. Stephen” from a 1969 San Francisco show in the same regard as one from St. Louis in 1991. Even two versions played only a few days apart on the same tour in ’76 can be night and day in terms of pace, intensity, and outright overall quality. This makes getting into the Dead more complicated than most other groups, but it also adds a luxury that many others lack– if you listen to a song of theirs and it isn’t doing it for you, trying a different version of the same track can make all the difference. Of course, this means more effort must be put in by listeners to explore their tastes, but it also fosters a much wider range of the potential for appeal than most other groups can offer.
Which brings us, finally, to the reason I set out to write this article: how does one go about beginning their listening studies and appreciation of The Grateful Dead? With the sound being an acquired taste for many, the early exposure one has can be pivotal. In general, my advice is to start with the studio, then move to live stuff. Hearing the songs in their simplest and most concise form gives you a good starting point to then try out a longer, more complex version. Thus, I would say From the Mars Hotel, American Beauty, and Workingman’s Dead are three studio albums that provide the best entrance into the band’s sound. Not only do they include some of the group’s most iconic and popular songs, but taken together, these three do a nice job of showcasing bits of the Dead’s jam-style, acoustic-folk, and country-blues influence. Once again, if you hear a track that isn’t speaking to you, don’t be afraid to circle back to it later and/or try a live version. Even better, once you find a studio recording that you’re a fan of, take a dive into the live performances of it– I personally have over six versions of “Scarlet Begonias” saved on my phone in addition to the studio, each one sticking out distinctly. After these three, Go to Heaven, Aoxomoxoa, and In the Dark serve as solid next steps.
Some songs, however, were only ever performed live, so this studio-first method won’t work for them. A collection of a number of these can be found on the fantastic Europe ’72 record. “Ramble on Rose,” “Jack Straw,” “He’s Gone,” and “Tennessee Jed” don’t have studio releases but are equally worthwhile as those that do, and Europe ’72 has them all in addition to incredible versions of studio staples like “Truckin’” and “Sugar Magnolia.” Europe ’72 has a total of 22 volumes, but you need not make your way through all of these before moving into another live album. Beyond Europe ‘72, you can’t go wrong with the iconic Skull and Roses, Red Rocks ’78, or Dead Set albums. There is, of course, Best of the Grateful Dead Live, though some see Best of/greatest hits compilations as cheating.
Whichever path through the discography you take, keep in mind that the location of a live show plays a massive role in how the Dead performed. A Bay Area concert in front of the hometown crowd leads to a much different atmosphere than one in Madison Square Garden. Similarly, a show in St. Paul, Minnesota gives off vibes dissimilar to those from a performance in front of the Pyramids of Giza. Of course, this means that it’s also fun to try and find a show from your hometown, as the Dead’s 30 years of touring almost surely took them there at one point (or at least somewhere close).Of course, for some, the Dead’s music will simply never resonate. No matter the method or route taken in their introduction to the sound, there are some who, despite their best efforts, can’t understand the appeal, and that is perfectly fine. I try my best to avoid being one who insists that others must indulge in the interests that I have. I encourage everyone, however, to treat the Dead a bit differently when courting their music. At worst, you’re unable to find the appeal and instead become reaffirmed in the music that you do enjoy. At best, you discover a vast world of distinct sound that, despite the band’s “end” in 1995, enjoys additions to its library with unheard past live recordings still being released periodically. As my own early reluctance yet eventual infatuation speaks to, John Mayer, who pivoted from his place atop the indie-pop scene to (brilliantly) fill in for Jerry Garcia in Dead and Company, has a perfectly summative claim: when it comes to the Grateful Dead, “you can’t say you’re not into them, you’re just not into them yet.”
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