Why I am Grateful for the Dead
I can still remember the first time I hopped on the train so to speak. It was November 2011, my sophomore year of high school, and the only thing on my mom’s mind was her concern that I would be taking the train from Livingston to MSG by myself for the first time. She was so concerned that she drove into the city to pick my friend and I up from the concert, but not before letting us stop at White Castle first for a post-show feast. If you’re reading this mom, thank you for giving a shit, but shame on you for letting me put those sliders into my stomach, and even worse, into your car! But enough about that.
Today, anyone who has met me for even a split-second knows how big a part the Grateful Dead are in my life. If you see me out in the wild, there’s a better than not chance I’m wearing a Dead shirt, and if not explicitly Dead apparel, then it’s a tie-dye inspired the band. Take my headphones out for a minute, and you’ll hear Jerry and Bobby trading riffs and vocals, and if not them, it will be Phish, Jrad, or Dead and Company all in the same vein. Last year (when live-music was still a thing; man do I miss those pre-COVID days) three of my fifteen vacation days were used to go see the Dead. Think about that; I get a grand total of fifteen days a year where I don’t have to work, and twenty percent were used on seeing the same band! If that’s not love, I don’t know what it is.
For anyone who has even seen a Dead show, or gotten on the train, it really is an experience like none other. As soon as you enter the parking lot, you know you’re in for a treat, as vendors line “Shakedown Street” with every hippie-product you can imagine including but not limited too shirts, posters, paintings, sculptures, wind chimes, etc. But the second thing you’ll notice (after wondering why everyone is walking around with balloons) is the immediate family like-atmosphere that all Dead Heads share. It doesn’t matter if you’re young or old, or if it’s your first or 100th show, once you’re they’re, you’re a part of the family, which was exemplified for me that first show at the Garden when I turned around to see a grandfather and grandson sharing a moment by lighting up a big, fat joint to split. Does it get any more wholesome than that?
But ultimately, you go to shows to hear the music, so let’s focus in on that. Most bands you see live, you’re lucky to get a solid ninety or so minutes of music, an encore song or two, and then you go home, say goodnight to the family, and that’s that. If that’s your idea of a concert (which to be fair, was mine before my first show) then you are in for a rude awakening, but also a treat once the first chord is strum. Those ninety minutes we just mentioned? That’s the first set at the Dead show, followed up by a thirty or so-minute intermission to charge up, pee, get some food, see some friends, and then get right back at it. How can you tell it’s someone’s first Dead show? As soon as the first song hits the ten-minute mark (which in my case isn’t quite true, it was only a 7:32 version of Scarlet Begonias) and the person turns to you and asks, “Is this still the same song they opened with?” And that’s the beauty of the music, as time slips away, jams seem to be endless, and one song seamlessly transitions into the next. If that doesn’t do it for you, just wait until drums/space, an odyssey of sounds that transmit you into another dimension.
Which brings me back to that first show, November 10th, 2011, Furtur at MSG. At the time, I was far from the Dead Head I am today, often interchangeably confusing The Dead and Lynyrd Skynyrd, and if you know music, you know those two bands couldn’t be further from one another within the spectrum of rock and roll. And I’ll get this out of the way now, it was the only Dead show I’ve ever been to in my life where I was stone cold sober. I guess that’s just one of the beauties of being fifteen, when you’re biggest worry at a Dead Show was whether or not you’d be able to sneak in a tin of chewing tobacco. Boy was I naïve. As soon as the music started playing, I was hooked, and to the band’s credit, they played a first set (below) that looking back almost ten years later is still the best set I’ve seen any Dead incarnation play since.
Set 1: Sugar Magnolia > Scarlet Begonias > Ramble On Rose, Tennessee Jed > Uncle John’s Band, Eyes of the World > So Many Roads, Box of Rain
But it wasn’t just the music that drew me in. It was looking at a sold out MSG, and for the first time in my life, being amongst a crowd of any size, let alone thousands of people, where everyone was just happy. Sure, now that I’m older I understand that the crowd may have had some artificial help in reaching that level of happiness, but in that moment, it was incredible to see everyone dancing, hugging, and singing together like they had known each other for years. The moment really did encompass the saying “good vibes only,” but then again, so does the band itself. It’s at that point you realize that you’re a part of something bigger, and by the end of the night I was a Dead Head for life.
A decade and countless new friends and memories later, I can still say today how grateful I am for The Dead. But once you get on the ride, how can you not be?
