Like many music aficionados, I have artists whose work I love, artists whose work I hate, artists whose work I'm indifferent toward, artists that make me use the word "artist" with sarcastic air quotes. You get the idea. There are a number of artists--honestly too many to mention--that I like enough to own a few albums. I like them enough to consider myself a fan. I might not consider myself a "die hard" fan, but I respect the artist for their songwriting and/or musicianship and I genuinely like their music, even if I might not listen to it on a regular basis.
Bob Weir's death this past week at the age of 78 reminded me that I basically have that relationship with the music The Grateful Dead. I may not be as big a fan as my Uncle Guy, but I do quite like them. While I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a "Deadhead," I do consider myself a fan. I own four of their albums. I might even acquire some more down the road. I don't listen to them as often as The Stones or the Beatles or Springsteen or even the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, come to think of it. But occasionally, I like to listen to one of The Dead's albums and I genuinely enjoy it every time. I admire their appreciation of all forms of American music from rock to blues to country to folk to bluegrass to jazz. Over the course of their long, strange trip, they wrote some incredible songs while at the same time paying tribute to others by doing some amazing covers.
Predictably, when I heard of Weir's death, I spent a couple of days re-listening to The Dead's first two albums in my car during my work commute. As part of the burgeoning "hippie" movement, they were contemporaries of groups like Jefferson Airplane and Big Brother & The Holding Company--both of whom I listen to on a semi-regular basis. Frankly, I'm surprised I don't listen to The Dead more often. I'm inclined to blame the lengthy jam sessions... but that never stopped me from playing Iron Butterfly's "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" at the drop of a hat.
I particularly found myself drawn to their second album, which I've decided to focus on this week. It's a bit more psychedelic and experimental than their self-titled debut. I don't know why I've always felt an attraction toward psychedelic rock. It could be the strange band names like The Strawberry Alarm Clock or The Electric Prunes. It could be the fact that, since I never had the nerve to experiment with illicit drugs myself, listening to the music often made me feel like I was on some kind of vicarious trip of my own. It might be the eclectic instrumentation--let's be honest, we don't hear a lot of kazoos in operas and symphonies... or even jazz, to be frank. Honestly, I think I'm just attracted to the non-conformity of it all. As someone who's always found it difficult to be like everyone else, I tend to like music that isn't trying to be or sound like anything else either.
So, in honour of Bob Weir, this week, please enjoy The Grateful Dead with their 1968 album, Anthem of the Sun.
Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.
Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!
The Reverend Will the Thrill
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