A few days ago, I responded to a good friend of mine, Raymond Pert (pseudonym), who had written a blog about the Grateful Dead. You can see it here RP . My comment was: Q: “What did the Deadhead say when he ran out of drugs? A: “This Music Sucks”. This joke led to a short email discussion about the Grateful Dead. RP, like millions of others, hold this music in high esteem.
Though we are roughly the same age, from the same background, we have very different takes on this music. RP appreciates it and has enjoyed attending concerts. I attended one concert and have never been so bored. I would have rather attended a three hour life insurance seminar. In three hours, I think they played two songs. At least I thought there was a short break where the tempo changed slightly, and Jerry Garcia went to a different chord. I missed the first half hour because I thought they were tuning up. I did not realize that was a song. But, the faithful were mesmerized by this music, little better than your neighborhood garage band produces. Their music is benign enough, just not memorable. You are listening to it now. Can you imagine three hours of this? This song reminds me of cranking an old-time jackinthebox.
Plink, plink, plink. But it won't pop. It just goes on and on. If the drying of paint were to make a sound, this would surely be it.
I swear that the great unwashed that I was forced to rub shoulders with were
the same demographic that go to every NASCAR race and camp out in the infield.
The major difference is the Dead crowd ingests massive amounts of chemicals and herbs, while the NASCAR fan uses beer and Jack Daniels to make these events tolerable.
It has been about thirty years, and I think I finally feel safe taking a drug test. I have nearly gotten the stench of patchouli out of my pores. Three hours of dodging vomit and my Grateful Dead concert experience was gratefully over.
I love music and have very eclectic tastes (as you can see by my song list). But I tend to be drawn to lyric, melody, and killer guitar rifts. Hypnotic repetition has never attracted me. I realize the Grateful Dead had, and continue to have, millions of disciples. Curiously, these fans didn’t buy their records. Their number one album: Skeletons in the Closet: The Best of the Grateful Dead took six years to go gold. Fans must have been spending their money on hallucinogens. Maybe it is the cheery album covers that limit sales.
My friend, RP, enjoys their music without the help of chemicals. God Bless Him. If you are a Grateful Dead fan, there is no way you can defend the music to me, nor should you need to. We all like what we like. I am just providing one man’s opinion. Hey, I like Eminem. But I would not attend one of his concerts either. Someone might bust a cap.
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