Michael Galke
MUS-205 BAS01
Professor Leon Bernardyn
May 15, 2017
Report on a Critique of a Jazz Concert
I concede that I did not get to a jazz concert during this semester, which I genuinely regret. When I first saw that we needed to write a paper on a show, I was actually excited at the prospect, as I’ve done a few of these over the years for non- academic purposes. When I also saw what was required for the paper—an analyses of not just the show / concert in it’s entirety, but to attempt to capture the interactive relationships that were taking place on stage… is much of what I find most enjoyable. Thus, I am writing this paper with a considerably contrite—and humble, spirit. I should however, clarify that I DID have a specific jazz concert in mind (a David Bromberg show), but I miscalculated the dates as being viable. Now, on to the real subject matter.
The concert I would like to talk about, though clearly way in the past, I believe would otherwise qualify for this paper: A Grateful Dead concert. I hope to paint a word picture as accurately as possible, but I have found this to be more than a slightly formidable challenge. The reason is multi-faceted: (a) Trying to explain the “energy” that I have felt on those occasions (which, I must concede, didn’t not happen at every show), but the energy that was being generated, and that I felt, by the band’s exploratory, improvisation that was both technical—but not technical, I often found challenging, as it does border on things spiritual. And until that advent of the language of the spiritual realm, one can only try to articulate this feeling of energy; (b) Just as there are “lady’s men” and “men’s men”…. there are “fan’s musicians”, and “musician’s musicians”. The “energy” discussion as difficult as it is for me to adequately explain, can be told to either a fan or a musician. But to attempt to explain what the Grateful Dead were doing musically was perhaps even more of a challenge; and (c) Unfortunately, the music of the Grateful Dead is all too often not given a proper chance by the throngs of actual, or wannabe “critics” out there, because they very quickly default to the drug use aspect of both the band, and their followers—Deadheads. They seem quick to dismissively ascribe this energy I often talk about, to that drug use. But I can state for the record, it was not the drugs that fostered this profound effect (although of course, I suppose that didn’t hurt things).
So much of the music my generation grew up with—Rock and Roll, was the result of almost all of these “rock guitar gods” (Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Alvin Lee, etc.) earning their living by executing variations of the “minor pentatonic” scale—a 5-note, close cousin of the Mixolydian mode, sans one extra note. I have no intension of casting any aspersions on the minor pentatonic scale, as I often use it myself when improvising with friends. But lead guitarist Jerry Garcia, while more than able to play the pentatonic with fervor, was not afraid to veer off into other scales and modes. Matter of fact, I would say that Garcia earned his living, in the confines of virtually all of the modes. At this juncture, I’d elaborate on each of these modes: Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aolean, and Locrian—but brevity being a virtue as well as it not jibing with what this paper is about (a critique of a jazz show), I just wanted to make the point that to me, this is what separates this unique consortium of musicians from so many others, yet sadly that are too often cast-off as spaced out, drug casualties that were only as popular by people who were as stoned as they were. This could not be further from the truth. And now, to use an actual show that I’ve been to for the guidelines of this paper, for an example of what I mean.
Just like we learned in one of our earliest lectures, in the video of the New Orleans Ragtime jazz bands, each actually giving musical quarter to each other by “listening” to each other during their respective solos, and then when the time was right, for all of the musicians to engage in a crescendo of—an almost exact same energy that I try to explain in my writing, the Grateful Dead do on an almost nightly basis. The thing with them was….though they surely didn’t want to, they knew they occasionally failed on any given night, but they also knew that it would be worth it when it happened again—for both themselves, and the audience.
Jerry Garcia, referred to in an interview with Branford Marsalis, has been referred to as, “…. one of the last, great melodic improvisers” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GnnoHPFMs3U, as mentioned, was always more than willing to take risks in that technical-but-non-technical sphere. But to watch the interaction between Garcia….with rhythm guitarist, Bob Weir, was in itself a real treat on several levels. Most rhythm guitarists simply go about the business of dutifully strumming their chords, periodically syncopating the rhythm to ‘shake things up’ a bit for the audience. But Weir’s abilities—to me to this day—were just so incredibly robust. He didn’t just strum, or pick the notes out of chords the way many rhythm guitarists do, or implement ‘hammer-ons and pull-offs’ and leave it at that… Weir would LISTEN to Garcia, anticipating (somehow) where he was going, and meet him there at the end, culminating in this energy I continue to find so elusive to articulate. It was, plain and simply, music mastery. It was unrivaled in most contemporary rock circles. It was appealing to other senses than just auditory. It was an auditory anti-depressant. It was that thing that got the audiences to keep coming back, over the course of their lifetimes.
In addition to the Garcia / Weir interactive relationship on stage, bassist Phil Lesh—who got his start as a classically trained trumpet player, was likewise, the perfect compliment to Garcia and Weir. To this day, I am in awe of how Lesh would make that split-second decision to “go low”, when he could have easily just “gone high”, which always brought forth for me, a guttural response (literally, a physical reaction / response), that was perfectly akin to the New Orleans Ragtime style of jazz. Throw in the “personification of syncopation” of drummer Bill Kreutzmann, with percussionist (as he calls himself, as opposed to drummer) Mickey Hart, and whoever the keyboard player du- jour was (my personal favorite was Keith Godchaux, though unfortunately was a package deal with his wife, vocalist Donna-Jean Godchaux), and though I always say they defy to be placed neatly into any idiom of musical genre.
The academic confines of this paper (3 pages) prevent me from elaborating much further. And again, it’s hard enough to do succinctly on it’s own merits… but paradoxically, though I was way late getting this paper in to you, I really do wish I could continue. Whether from a fan’s perspective, or from a musician’s perspective, there is no shortage of accolades, sound-clips, web-clips, descriptions of my own, historically relevant archival material, other musician’s descriptions of how the Grateful Dead juxtaposed consonant-with-dissonant musicianship (by they way, an almost perfect summation in that Branford Marsalis article is his description at cue 1:20 in the link above), that I could write about, regarding the Grateful Dead, but again, I know the focus of this paper was supposed to incorporate adjectives from the NY Times links, objectives that I’m unclear if I’ve pulled off. But I do want to thank you for both… this opportunity to once again, try to share that which has given me so much joy over the last 40 years of my life, and….an awesome (for lack of a better description) class on “The History of Jazz”.
