The Grateful Dead - Part III
-
Artist:
-
Album:
-
Track:
The Grateful Dead weren't through with me. I'd tried to like them on their own merits, I'd tried to use them as romantic subterfuge - I'd learned my lesson.The years passed, and I wrote songs when I wasn't busy with something else, and by the time the 90's rolled around I had an album's worth of material. I eventually accumulated a few friends who were reasonably proficient at different instruments, and we declared ourselves a band - in theory if not practice; we didn't play live, we didn't publicize ourselves in any way, but every so often we got together, learned the chords to a song that one of us had written (usually me), and, for lack of a less serious word, rehearsed.We recorded some of it, rather crudely, and got some encouraging feedback (see my post on Linda Stein), so we tried giving it a slightly more professional feel to see if a record company would take a chance on us. To make a long story short, we drew a smattering of interest, but refusing to do live shows hurt our cause more than I thought it would, and we wound up just sitting on the tapes for several years. Pity, too, if I do say so myself; pop culture could have used a band like us around then.The fellow we enlisted to give us a presentable sound - or "producer," however meaningless that word - actually did like our stuff, though, and as our demo tape languished, he would play it for his friends and speak of us highly. I didn't give it much thought at the time, but he was (is) actually a fairly established and well-liked figure among professional musicians in the Bay Area, and one afternoon he gave me a call. These might not be the ??exact?? words, but they're not far off:"Hey, dude; I had a friend of mine over just now, and I was playing him your demo tape. He really liked the lyrics, and he wanted to see if you'd be interested in writing stuff for his band. I gave him your number; I hope that's all right." Actually, it wasn't entirely all right; I'm a bit reclusive, and didn't like thinking a stranger might call me unexpectedly. "You gave my number to someone I don't know? Who was it?" "Oh, he's a cool guy; don't worry. You might have heard of him. His name's Jerry Garcia. You know The Grateful Dead?"Yes; I knew The Grateful Dead. The rest of the conversation I don't recall, but there wasn't much to it. A day or two later, the phone rang - I remember the call came at an inopportune moment, and I answered it irritably."Hello?" "Hello." "Yes, who is this?" "Well, we haven't met, but a friend of mine gave me your number. My name's Jerry Garcia." Gulp. "Yes, Mr. Garcia?"He didn't come right out and ask me to write lyrics for them, but he said he dug (he used the word "dug") my lyrics, and wanted to know if we could meet some time. I said I would be happy to meet with him at whatever time he found convenient. "Well, I have to leave for a couple weeks, but when I get back, I'd like to talk to you if you have some spare time." It was a brief conversation, but I remember he seemed very low-key and affable; I couldn't help feeling a little guilty for holding his band in such perennial scorn.I didn't hear back from him, and a month or so later - maybe less - I turn on the news: Jerry Garcia is dead.I don't know if I'd necessarily have gotten the gig (how I hate that word), but I expect hearing them sing lyrics I'd written would have done a lot to improve The Grateful Dead for me. I don't like to think of them framed by interminable jamming (how I hate that word, too) and noodling, but the typical GD song had a meter I could have written for quite comfortably. I've contributed lyrics for several bands since then - including a few quite well-known ones; you may well have heard some of them - and they're not always as accommodating of my sense of prosody as the Dead would likely have been. Acts that need help with lyrics are frequently sensitive about receiving it, resisting acknowledgment. It would have been nice to work with a band that made no bones about needing a helping hand.Ah, what might have been.
Comments (11)
That's some story. I heard that he would read dozens of lyrics from Robert Hunter to only cull out one or two. Recently I heard the very last song he sang "Black Muddy River" was the only one he picked from a whole long series of work. Their music is alway streaming in continuity from space out there (Sirius 32) like few bands ever will. Now I need to search your lyrics out, your songs. Very cool.