By Greg Kot, Tribune Rock Critic
Chicago Tribune Interview with Jerry Garcia
Though he said little to nothing on stage, and sometimes barely acknowledged the crowd's presence, there was always a sense that throughout his life Garcia was doing exactly what he wanted to do: Playing music, unfettered by the commercial demands of the record business.
That the Grateful Dead became one of the world's most successful bands--earning more than $48 million in 1994 tour income--made this fiercely independent attitude all the more alluring. The Dead's following continued to expand because the band operated like no other, often playing concerts twice as long as most of their peers', and at greater risk, functioning more like a jazz ensemble than a traditional rock group, with an emphasis on improvisation and spontaneity.
Garcia embodied this attitude, shambling onto the stage in baggy shorts and a T-shirt, looking as though he had just spent the afternoon curled up in a hammock. His demeanor and playing exuded a similar sense of living-room intimacy; for all the lack of fire in his stage persona, Garcia's guitar solos glistened, and his every smile brought a roar from the audience.
He seldom spoke to the press in recent years, but in May 1993 he agreed to an extensive interview backstage at the Silver Bowl in Las Vegas. Less than a year earlier he had checked himself into a hospital, suffering from exhaustion. Since then, he had shed 60 pounds and for the first time was exercising and watching his diet. He smiled as he greeted me, eager to talk about the general sense of well-being in the Dead camp.
Tribune: Your audience seems to think you can can do no wrong. They enjoy even the bad shows.
Garcia: Well, we notice the differences. We notice the times when we get an authentic rise out of them and the times when they're just being nice. There are times when the energy is a little low, or we're off, they're nice and forgiving to us, but when something special is happening, they know it. Our audience is respectful and forgiving. They like it when we exhibit humanness, when someone forgets the lyrics, or we blow an arrangement, or start at the wrong tempo. The nights that seem very difficult and combative to me, the audience likes them, because they like the tension the music gets when we're not all in agreement. When it's really feeling perfect from my point of view, it may be a little boring.
Last night I saw you chatting with a handful of fans at the hotel pool. How do you relate to an audience that is many years younger than you are?
Anyone who approaches as though they're a normal person and I'm a normal person is fine with me. In other words, I don't have anything to fear from them and unless they do something outrageously impolite, I always try to be polite to them. Because they're human beings, they deserve at least basic respect. That's just the way I was raised. I've never been able to, I can't shut 'em off or ignore 'em. . . . They're almost without exception really polite, really anxious not to disturb me, and all they want to do is say thank you for the music.
You seem rejuvenated since we last talked, before the collapse last year.
I'd say that's a pretty good word for it. I certainly feel that way and my life has been that way. I have a new respect for my own mortality--again . But this time I've been a little more serious about doing something about it. I changed my lifestyle to accommodate that. I can't say, "Oh, yeah, I'm a total model for health." But I'm on a program. I've accepted the idea that my life has to change, and I've taken some steps to do that, to create less stress, have more physical activity, and eat right, and be sensible, really. And I feel so much better. Physically I just feel so much better.
There is a positive feedback aspect to it that makes it easy to keep doing it. There are so many better people than me to talk about it; it's not my place to tell people what to do to turn their health around. Health is a very personal matter, like drugs or like any other of the things that people come up with--I don't feel qualified to tell other people how to live their lives. To me it's a matter of personal discovery. Everybody is unique and I don't buy formulas. I just don't.
Has it had an impact on your playing?
I don't think I'm playing differently. I'm singing better, definitely singing better. My playing, there's a kind of bell curve to it. At the beginning of a tour I'm not playing very well. At the end I'm playing pretty well. The more we work, the better I play. I have periods of time when I study, make an effort to learn new stuff. And that's a whole separate process that osmotically finds its way into my playing; every once in a while you hear new stuff creeping in. Because I can't do it on purpose. I always play off the top of my head, and either something new is there or it's not.
You've got a unique tone--each note seems to sparkle.
It's my background again. The first thing I got interested in was electric guitar. I got one when I was 15 and I hacked around on it for two years without anyone teaching me how to play. I was operating completely in the dark, just using my ears. Then, when I first got serious about learning an instrument, I heard five-string banjo bluegrass records and I thought, "God, what is that sound? I gotta make that sound." It became an obsession. I learned how to learn something difficult. It was slow going and I had to listen to a lot of records slowed way down, so I could figure out the individual notes, and I got a lot of respect for the individual note. The root of my playing is that every note counts, every note has a personality, every note has a little spirit.
The band was losing that sense of crispness a few years ago. You seemed to be burning out, going through the motions.
We were burning out. We were all suffering that. We had been working a lot, and we hadn't been able to put much energy into newness. Then everybody started to write more and our rehearsals became more directed. And everybody is up for it. The whole band was on this trip. Our whole community has taken a jump toward a reaffirmation. We're kind of gearing up to make it to the millennium. That's our current goal .
At the Rosemont Horizon a few months ago, you closed with "Knockin' on Heaven's Door," and I thought it was one of the most moving versions I'd ever heard you do. You seemed to relate to that song in a new way.
Some of those songs, it just hits you. You can't help but notice these things. But it's what made it a great song in the first place--no matter what happens in your life--because there's a part of your life in there. You're dying, everybody's dying, at some point or another you have to face it. It's a beautiful metaphor. It's a lovely way of saying that this is happening. It's a poignant song.
The physical troubles you were having, was it a case where it was difficult to finish shows?
I was having trouble doing anything. I was just really tired, exhausted, really. I was really heavy. I was just having trouble moving around.
There are a lot of bands out there loosely modeled after the Dead, who tour extensively, emphasize jamming and improvisation, like Phish, the Spin Doctors, Blues Traveler. What do you think of them?
They're like us. They're following the Grateful Dead tradition of screw the record companies, screw MTV, just go out and play to real humans. And it's working for them. That's the story. If you want to survive in this business, you go out there and pick up your audience, you recruit 'em. That's who you're working for. If you're a performer, that's where it's at. Not playing to a microphone in a studio or a TV screen.
So how come you play only stadiums now?
We don't have any other options.
Sure you have.
Look, I love the small rooms. When I can, I still play at bars. Yes, it's a little sad. But we make an effort to make it as good as it can be in a big place. We want the experience to expand out to the size of the venue. We don't want to cartoon the music to fit the venue. We want to pare the venue down. There aren't any tricks. What you need is faith, that what you're doing is communicating itself everywhere the way it's supposed to be. If there are tricks, I wish someone would show them to me.
The band doesn't discuss the game plan before the show?
That's one of the reasons why we don't write a set list. Because when you go out there you want to feel what the situation is like organically, because the big places all have their own personality, each day has its own personality. And you want to be able to play into the moment. "This moment seems to feel like it needs a medium tempo." You play it in real time. You don't try to force the experience through some kind of sieve or template. You cut a new template for each moment.
What about the "drums and space" segment of your concerts, which is totally improvised. It sometimes seems like it's in there to see just how far you can push the audience.
I know. We're gonna keep on doing it because it's fun, to have a part of a show absolutely unstructured and just not attached to anything. And we're gonna keep on doing it, that's all. There are times I hate it, too, but so what? That's not the point. The point is that it doesn't have a point.
Do you ever get the feeling that by totally doing it your way for this many years, you're almost getting away with something?
I feel like we've been getting away with something ever since there were more people in the audience than there were on stage. The first time that people didn't leave after the first three tunes, I felt like we were getting away with something. We've been falling uphill for 27 years.
PHOTO: Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead's last concert was at Soldier Field July 9. ``You don't try to force the experience through some kind of sieve or template. You cut a new template for each moment,'' he said.
