Well I’m going to set this to paper once, speak my piece and wander off.  And then link to it every time I feel “injured” by comments from those peeps who are willing to 1) denigrate the Dead or 2) denigrate those who enjoy listening to the Dead. But, as I think about it, this is not just a response to them–there are also those here who are advocates of “play the live version”. As well the true Deadheads. And I see many who say they “just don’t get it” (the whole Dead scene). Me? I guess I would be a quasi-Deadhead. Which I will attempt to explain.

First I should say that I really didn’t get the Dead in the 70’s. A hero of mine did so I bought the Skull and Crossbones and Live In Europe albums. I confess that I appreciated the cover art more than the actual music. I tried but it seemed ‘countrified’ at a time when I wanted rock or at least southern rock. It really wasn’t until the 90’s that I started to dig them a little more… Hey, the Dead want to save the rain forest… and Jerry was a closet computer nerd… and Jerry is dead for real and so the DJ’s are playing more from their catalog on the FM stations. Some of the songs start to resonate a bit and I start to listen a little more closely and I will never be able to attend one of their fabled concerts and I gave up drugs years ago so how am I going to really know what this Deadhead thing is all about? But the extra effort and a little repetition has taken hold and I need to explore this phenomena.

Evidently my interest had become apparent enough that I am at one point mistaken for a Deadhead and I experience the need to proselytize, to make another friend feel the Dead. Around 2002 I decide I need to make him a compilation CD with my favorites which will be the very best of the band. For my research I start collecting their works… the albums, the soundboard recordings, Dick’s Picks…it peaks at well over 1000 songs. To glean the best I am forced to actually listen to (parts of) this mountainous collection. At one point I spend three days (and most of the nights) wearing headphones and listening to nothing but the Dead. The experience was an epiphany of sorts I guess. I didn’t tire of them, I didn’t flame out and I had a playlist that could convince anybody of their greatness. Well I burned that CD. I don’t know if my friend ever listened to it—I suspect not. (No hard feelings Jay ). I probably also told him (warned him?) that he needed to reserve about 14 hours for nothing else but headphones and really listening, listening hard. Who has 14 hours to listen to one artist? But these things are so subjective and I realize my experience does not translate to another’s. Which is really what this ramble is all about.

A few observations that I gleaned from all of this (remember that these perceptions are mine and may not have any basis in reality):

The Dead were not always “on”. Phil Lesh admitted in his book that they fell down for the big ones… Woodstock, Johnny Carson, etc. But I’ve got this one thing indelibly stamped on my distorted memories… the Dead could be tired, Jerry’s voice could be gone, drugs and sickness working against them, and yet… Jerry’s guitar never faltered, it was always clean, almost delicate at times, always soulful. I confess that I listen for his guitar more than any other aspect of their music and I just can’t find anything wrong with his playing.  Oh, they noodled… I would get impatient sometimes when waiting for them to find their groove… it would seem to take forever to get started. But just when it seemed like nothing was going to happen they would find something and take off. Those moments were stratospheric and even without mind-altering substance I could understand a little better the otherworldly forces that created the “real” Deadheads.

I think people miss seeing the consummate professionalism that Jerry brought to the guitar. Phil Lesh recounts in his book Searching For The Sound that Jerry once pushed him, causing him to fall down some stairs, for missing 8 bars during a concert (while “zoning” out).  This from someone who, by most accounts was mellow, kind, a “sweetheart” (Phil’s word), a benevolent bear. At one point I doubt anyone could have  convinced me that Jerry’s guitar ever missed—every note had purpose and preceded or followed another ‘perfect’ note. He never seemed to get into a corner while playing—hitting notes that he could not recover from gracefully. Maybe my wiring got scrambled somewhere over the years but I really don’t feel this about many guitarists (Eric Clapton and Joe Perry come to mind but that would make another story and involve having to defend myself).

Where is this all going? Well I’m slightly bothered by the hyper-critical abject dismissal by those who don’t like the Dead but I can deal with it. But slamming those who do like them? I just feel the need to put in a word for tolerance. Do I expect to enlighten anyone? I guess not but I think if you will just actually listen once, maybe tune out Jerry’s voice or whatever it is that makes you crazy and concentrate on his guitar or the drums or Lesh’s bass lines you may find something that you can appreciate. You may even transcend the place where you currently are. Yeah, they noodle. Incessantly it seems sometimes. But they are looking for something. A moment when it all comes together and minds are melded into common purpose. Their job is not to convince you that they are there, they have to stay the course. And all you have to do is wait—something that is not part of our culture these days. But if you do the rewards are there.

Through the years I’ve prided myself on remaining “open” to new music. And I usually prefer to say nothing if I have nothing good to say–give it a personal rating and move on. But the Black Keys? I guess I just don’t get it. It’s like some kind of cosmic joke and it looks like I’m the only one who hasn’t been filled in. I’m into beats and rhythms and usually when Radio Paradise picks it up a notch I am ready to embrace whatever they are playing. It looks now like everyone except me is embracing this group, raving about them even. And still I struggle.

The words that come to mind are repetitious, banal, pretentious, unoriginal. Not particularly proficient. I too caught them on SNL and on Letterman the following week. Nothing. I went and bought the album to prove to myself that I was still receptive, to get some more listens and find out where I was missing the picture. And kept on missing. Is there a new drug I need to use to get this? I had one song rated “pretty good” but it’s falling fast on repeated listens. I mean there are people who like them whose opinions I respect, even value. I guess Black Keys are just not for me–we all have our sensitive spots that we don’t like irritated. It’s gotten to the point where if any song just reminds me of Black Keys I cringe. Ok, flame on but someone had to say it. On a scale of 10 a “3″ for the song “I’m Not The One”, a “1″ for the album “Brothers”.