Grateful Dead listening notes and thoughts while working towards a book on "Dark Star" (IV)
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
Monday 8/3/26
The greatest sense of urgency I've ever heard evinced in a work of musical art occurs around the midpoint of the Grateful Dead's version of "Truckin'" at the Capitol Theatre on 11/8/70. It sounds like something greater than life or death is at stake, which is why I believe they opted to follow it with “Dark Star.”
With the audiences going absolutely nuts, the Grateful Dead tailored their versions of "Dark Star" at the Capitol Theatre on 6/24/70 and 11/8/70 to suit the crowd, the euphoric mood, and what was a raucous, one-night community. Well, maybe not one night, because we can be a part of that now. "Dark Star" as ripping rock and roll. As I've said, "Dark Star" is the ultimate dance number in human history if you understand it. A dance not just of body, but of soul.
No post-1968 "Dark Star" by the Grateful Dead charges harder out of the gate than the 6/24/70 Capitol Theatre version. Most of those '68 renditions had a naturally sprightlier tempo, whereas this is maxed energy by design. Reminds me of Game 2 of the 1987 Canada Cup final between Canada and the Soviet Union, the most intense athletic contest I've ever watched. One of the announcers, out of breath, asks his partner, "Have you ever seen anything like this?" and the other guy says, "Never."
The audience recording of the 4/15/69 gig at the Music Box in Omaha is a strong one. I like venues with names such as this in the Middle West. Sounds like an establishment Ellington and the boys could have rolled into on a winter jaunt when the band's job included making people dance so they could warm up. Seriously--that was part of it. It's...something...to hear people nattering away while the Dead play an aggressive, ferocious "Dark Star"...as if in the background.
The version of "Caution (Do Not Stop on the Tracks)" from Wembley on 4/8/72: McKernan starts to sing, slightly off-mic, like he's still getting into position, then pulls back and lets the band continue to crank for a bit first, because cranking they are. Or throttling down the tracks, I suppose. There may be no better set in popular music performance history. The "Dark Star" sets the table--or perhaps is the table--on which other items of greatness are laid.
If God came down and slipped you a card revealing the answer as to the finest work of musical art humans had made and it read, "'Dark Star', Wembley 4/8/72," a knowing person who is adept at listening to music would say, "Okay, thanks, God," rather than, "Really, God?"
In a world where so many people talk the same, write the same, think the same, and are virtually the same, be your own version of the Grateful Dead's 12/6/73 "Dark Star" and on into "Eyes of the World." The progression here is one from inner light to outer light. "Dark Star," more than anything else, is a work of light. That light is most concerned with interiority. It's similar in that regard to the foundational light of the work of Thoreau and Emerson. Or the light of some of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Vincent Van Gogh's letters.
Everything begins with that internal light. Seeing what is inside of us for what it is. Unless we do, there's nothing we can do about what those things are, which is to say, who we are, and what we can do out in the world. That inner life can be mastered. The outer world...not so much. "Eyes of the World" is that light of "Dark Star," and the work done on the inside, radiating outwards. It is fitting that it has so much to do with nature, just as it's fitting that so much of Thoreau's writing has to do with nature, and so much of Thoreau the man.
Nature is a portal to that inside world as well, the self. The gateway works both ways, the road is to be traveled in each direction. "Dark Star" here feeds into "Eyes of the World," but "Eyes of the World" also feeds back into "Dark Star."
There's a lot of defiance in the music of the Grateful Dead, and what I call the good kind of anger, because it helps to build that which is beneficial. Theirs is the defiance of grit, of push back, not taking it, rising. Goin' down the road feeling bad, yes, but coming back up it again to kick the ass of someone who had it coming. See also: "Bertha," "Viola Lee Blues," "Truckin'," "Uncle John's Band." And "Dark Star" itself by the nature of its form and what it asks of a listener for judicious reasons. To play such a thing is such a fiercely independent thing to do. No ceremony is stood upon. Comparables? Fie, fool. Expectations? Come in with an open mind instead. Be open to possibility, be open to wonder. It doesn't get more "punk" in that regard than "Dark Star," unless you want to count starting a show with "Dark Star." Death or glory, this isn't just another story. It is another "Dark Star" story, though.
The Dead were often a different entity in the spring than they were in the autumn. That is, autumn Dead and spring Dead are not the same. It doesn't seem like they should be. Having said that, if the Dead were a season, it would be fall. Consider the Dark Stars of autumn.
Functionality is an intriguing concept with "Dark Star." Sometimes, the work functions as a stand-alone museum piece. That is, if it could be displayed on a wall as the masterpiece, this would work. Other times, it can be a facilitator. It "reads the room." "Dark Star" isn't an ego piece. Maybe it isn't "here's a stand-out masterpiece" time. It understands time and place. Paradoxically, some of the best Dark Stars need not be masterpieces in the manner of a 4/8/72 "Dark Star," like that 11/8/70 "Dark Star," to be special or as worthy. But this takes some thinking about and skillful exegesis. One should always remember, too, that listening is a skill. Whether that's to what someone else is saying, or to music.
Comments