Grateful Dead: Idiosyncratic Improvisationalists

As the Grateful Dead morphed from an eccentric folk-blues group into an eclectic jam juggernaut, the band adopted an idiosyncratic approach to improvisation they would then hone over three decades. Regular shifts of personnel nurtured an ongoing alteration of the Dead's musicianship, as did the growing wealth of original material the group interspersed with a wide range of cover songs. The following selections taken from the arc of the iconic unit's history illustrate how their distinctive means of playing together took consistently interesting form: while their individual concerts could be hit-and-miss affairs, the overall patterns of Grateful Dead creativity were unlike any of their contemporaries (the Allman Brothers Band) or their jam band progeny (Phish).



The curating team at dead.net has always taken pains to provide value for its customers and this first of many expansive collections is a template for the future in more than one sense. Most obviously, chief archivist David Lemieux compiled a three-CD companion piece to the main ten-disc collection and the extent of his deep familiarity with Grateful Dead live performances bore an uncanny result: a selection of highlights from the four nights that might well have been performed and recorded in a single evening.



For many followers of the Grateful Dead, Europe '72 (Warner Bros., 1972) is the definitive live chronicle of the iconic group. Yet there are precious few lengthy improvisations or extended segues over the course of what was originally a triple set of vinyl LPs. The release of Lyceum Theater, London, England 5/26/72 (Rhino, 2022) presents a much more accurate depiction of the band's approach: the entire show that concluded the overseas jaunt is especially startling for its near sixty minutes of segues near the end, including six familiar selections from the repertoire, dramatically transformed through seamless linkage(s).



Originally conceived as a benefit concert that would fill a space in the Grateful Dead's summer 1972 tour schedule, the charity endeavor on behalf of the brother of Merry Prankster founder and author Ken Kesey, blossomed into a film project that came to fruition as yet another archive project capturing the ineffable essence of this band. The approximately thirty—minutes (!) of "Dark Star" here is striking for the patient approach of the group as it explores nooks and crannies in the melodic and rhythmic motifs of what can rightly be termed the signature song of their early psychedelic era.



An often (and oddly unjustly) overlooked phase of Grateful Dead history is the period in which the group was utilizing the massive 'Wall of Sound.' Conceived by long-time audio guru Owsley Stanley, this massive contraption was in use for only a period from March to October of 1974) and, not coincidentally, their playing was particularly fleet and nuanced: when rendered on stage in a setting where the band could hear itself especially clearly (like the audience), self-composed selections such as "Here Comes Sunshine" reached its full potential as a live vehicle and a song unto itself.



Revelations invariably abound on Grateful Dead box sets and Winterland 1973: The Complete Recordings (Grateful Dead, 2008) is no exception. Like its companion piece from the same venue four years later, the ebb and flow during each of the three performances is readily discernible, but that reaffirmation of the band's instincts on a good night is less of a surprise than the epiphany that arises from a sustained listening to the set in its entirety: the overall momentum of the entire run is comparable to a single superior show.



The keepers of the Grateful Dead's vault have taken much the same approach to their archiving as the musicians themselves on stage, that is, changing up their approach in unexpected ways that ultimately prove natural extensions of what has come before. Accordingly, chief archivist David Lemieux' initial foray into an archival series, Road Trips, differed markedly from its predecessor Dick's Picks: instead of complete shows, these compilations were comprised of discerning selections from previously-unreleased concert recordings. As a result, the enterprise mirrored the band in action, alternating between tight arrangements, extended improvisations and segues of same, stretching out into a series of lengthy improvisations and segues that contain their own particular (peculiar?) logic.



A stellar microcosm of the Grateful Dead's ever-evolving style of improvisation, Crimson White & Indigo reaffirms the band had reached yet another of many varied pinnacles of strength and versatility late in its career, notably in the wake of Jerry Garcia's brush with death in 1986. Far removed from the free-form approach of its earliest days, the band nevertheless stretched itself at each successive improvisational passage, in so doing, the group generating a level of suspense rare in rock improvisation (or that of any genre for that matter, including jazz).



The late Brent Mydland revivified the band chemistry of the Grateful Dead when he joined in 1979 and continued to make significant contributions for the duration of his decade-long tenure with the group. The keyboardist/vocalist/songwriter's camaraderie with vocalist/guitarist/songwriter Jerry Garcia was especially evident after the iconic San Francisco group garnered their first mainstream hit in 1987 with "Touch Of Grey." The ensemble was, in fact, oozing confidence during the two stealth performances at Hampton Coliseum in the fall of 1989 (billed under their original name 'The Warlocks'), the playing and singing was permeated with vigor, epitomized by the robust, extemporaneous singing of Mydland (in place of the deceased Ron "Pigpen" McKernan).



The Grateful Dead rarely hosted sit-ins from other musicians during their performances, in part because, as the stories go, their setlists were assembled on the fly, not written out in advance. A significant exception to that rule were Branford Marsalis' appearances with the group in the spring of 1990 and while it is fair to say the saxophonist moved the band to step up its game, it's also true the Dead challenged him in novel ways. The combined efforts brought improvisation-ready material like "Eyes Of The World" to its arguable apotheosis.



The Grateful Dead never really turned formulaic or predictable but in the last few years of their existence they came close. For instance, a June 1991 show at Soldier Field in Chicago epitomizes how the regimented nature of the era proceeded naturally from the (overly) streamlined approach the group adopted upon their return from the 1975 hiatus, then honed (to a fault?) in 1977. The free-form "Drums"/"Space" interludes thus took the place of more frequent segments of spontaneity during the overall performance, but Bruce Hornsby's good-natured exchanges with Garcia supplied moments of purposeful, instinctual levity.



The very first expansive archival work curated by the Grateful Dead organization, five-disc box set titled So Many Roads (Arista, 1999), is distinguished not just by the inclusion of untitled open-ended jams, but the original material upon which the band labored upon in the studio, but never completed for formal release during its later years. As collated on Ready Or Not (Rhino, 2019), however, the Dead also played the material in concert during the Nineties and in that setting, the best of their self-composed songs, such as "Days Between," sound like structured excerpts from a particularly pointed jam.

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