The Kansas City Star
November 14, 2003
by Timothy Finn
The late Jerry Garcia once told a Rolling Stone writer: "Music is a thing that has optimism built into it. Optimism is another way of saying `space...' You can go as far into music as you can fill millions of lifetimes. Music is an infinite cylinder, it's open-ended, it's space."
No band represented the concept of infinity and interminable space better than the Grateful Dead. Back in 1977, Robert Christgau called them "musty avatars of the '60s counterculture."
That was 26 years ago. In a different millennium, even minus Garcia -- the guy who put some gravity in all that space -- the Dead as a concept remains musty and countercultural.
Avatars? Just count all the jam bands -- Phish, Rusted Root, Widespread Panic, Moe, String Cheese Incident... -- who have cashed in on its absence by improvising on the Dead's blend of jazz virtuosity and rock abandon.
Then there's Ratdog, a side project of Dead guitarist/vocalist Bob Weir. When the Dead disbanded after Garcia's death, Ratdog became his primary musical outlet, his way of moving forward and living in the past.
Last summer, the Dead survivors reunited, toured and tried mightily to re-create the kind of spirit that Weir identified more than 35 years ago when he told a mass of '60s counterculturalists at the Monterey International Pop Festival: "You know what foldin' chairs are for? They're for foldin' up and dancin' on."
Weir will be in Lawrence on Tuesday with his latest version of Ratdog (bassist Rob Wasserman out; Robin Sylvester in). This week, he spoke with The Star via a crackling cell phone (from somewhere in Fort Wayne, Ind.) about his old band, its timeless music and his eternal friend.
Ratdog has a different bass player this tour, Robin Sylvester. Why the switch from your old friend Rob Wasserman?
The difference is that Robin is more suited to larger ensembles. The way Rob's style is -- he's all over the instrument and in larger ensembles, a sextet, for instance, that doesn't work all that well. It really wasn't fair to crowd him into playing more simply in a larger group.
That said, I'll work with Rob anytime in smaller ensembles.
How did you ultimately decide to drop him?
The guys had been talking about it for a while. They'd been wanting to make the change. I said, "OK, if you're gonna make the change" -- see, this happened last year. I'd been on the road all year and I was going to take two weeks off and go to Mexico. I said, "If you want to make the change, audition bass players and I'll come back and see what you come up with." That's how it happened.
Was it awkward or was it amicable?
We pretty much understood each other, so it was amicable.
You once said that the Grateful Dead didn't invent anything, like the concept of "jam bands," that what you guys did went all the way back to Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington. Explain that.
When I was 16 or 17, I got turned on to Miles Davis and John Coltrane and was really interested in what they were up to. It took me right away. I really liked the way they improvised, how they stated a theme and took it for a walk in the woods.
As we developed as musicians, everyone in the Dead and me, personally, we developed the confidence to do that kind of stuff on our instruments.
We were all interested in that stuff, we all listened to it and we all aspired to it. And that's how we got started with it.
Did you ever get the sense that your crowd appreciated your virtuosity or did you feel most people were there for the party -- to hang out and commune, get high and hear some music they liked?
That was obviously going on to some degree at a lot of our shows, and we were aware of it. But we sort of shunned that and played for each other and for the folks who came to hear the music.
You and a lot of the jam bands who followed you have debunked the notion that you need "hits" and radio airplay to be successful. Agree?
I don't really know. The whole music situation is in such an intense state of flux right now. No one really knows what you need or don't need, not to say anyone has ever really known that. But at this point, it's clear that no one knows anything about what anyone needs to be successful -- except that in our little world you need to be able to play your instruments.
Is the industry situation better or worse than when you started?
I don't think it's changed much. It's about to change (very soon). The Internet will change things. The whole notion that you need an (artist and repertoire) department and that labels develop artists and cultivate them and all that -- that's a big crock.
The people who do that, they cultivate artists by giving them one or two chances. If the artists don't hit pay dirt right away, the label drops them.
I read a piece Courtney Love wrote on the music industry and just how helpful it is with artists. She concluded it's really not helpful at all.
So where's the change coming from?
The availability of music over the Internet is going to change a lot of that dramatically. What better way is there to go shopping for music than to go to a Web site, like the Apple Music Store, for example, and just start listening to stuff in the comfort of your own home. You don't have to go anywhere or endure the mindlock that sets in when you walk into a record store.
Where do you stand on the issue of file-sharing?
There has to be a happy medium. The notion that musicians should make their music available for free is ridiculous. How are they going to make a living?
Now, a guy like me, who's done pretty well over the years -- I don't stand to suffer too much. But the young musician who's developing his skills -- writing and all that stuff -- they need to make a living, otherwise they're gonna spend eight hours a day bagging groceries or going to school so they can get an MBA. And there goes the future of music.
Back to the Ratdog tour: How do you manage to go out and perform lots of Dead songs and yet create and sustain a distinct personality for Ratdog?
On this tour, on any given night, we do half Dead songs, half Ratdog songs and the rest come from my back pages or covers or whatever.
When we get back from this tour, we're going to do some fairly intensive writing. In fact, we've already done some. I'm going to play with looping and other stuff and really develop a distinct sound.
See, Ratdog started out as a vacation from the Dead for me when the Dead was still touring. Now that the Dead is back out, Ratdog is going to develop back into that. We won't need to play all that many Dead tunes.
Since the Dead will be around, Ratdog will be working more on its own stuff. Over the past few years, there's been a concerted effort for us to learn the Dead repertoire, which we've done. That's not so necessary any more. We're gonna put more time into our own stuff and our own direction.
What was it like to tour as the Grateful Dead again?
Last summer's tour exceeded expectations in just about every way. The music was strong from the first day of rehearsal, and it all got stronger as the summer progressed.
You brought in Joan Osborne as a guest vocalist. How did that happen?
Since the Dead originally broke up, all the guys have pursued their own individual directions and come up with their own managers and agents and whatever. Somewhere in the middle of all that soup, that notion came up. It wasn't from any of the musicians. The idea was forwarded to us and we said, "Let's try."
Will you do it again?
I think so. I'd like to get Joan back. I hope we can. For me she sort of filled the Pigpen slot.
What kind of feedback did you get?
A lot of kids hated it; a lot of kids loved it. Like I said, for me she filled the Pigpen slot. For those who found it wasn't Dead-like -- I really don't know what to tell them. Their notion of what's Dead-like is so tweaked, often times it's a place I would never want to go.
What was it like being out there, doing those songs as the Dead but without Jerry Garcia?
For me, it's never like Jerry is not there. He is there for me. Other people might not find that to be the case, but he's very much there for me. I can hear him all the time, when I play with Ratdog or the Dead -- any time I play. He lives in my heart, my head, my ears. We damn near grew up together. We met shortly after my 16th birthday. I may be in an advanced stage of denial, but I really don't feel the loss.
What about him is most misunderstood?
That he was some sort of guru, which was a notion that he thoroughly despised. And it wasn't just because of humility. He had a good reason: He really wasn't a guru.
What's your perspective on the Dead's legacy these days?
That band's legacy is an ongoing work. We'll get together this winter as well and start writing, so it's all up to us to further the legacy. We've still got (Robert) Hunter, still got writers and the players. This thing can go much further down the road than it already is.
As far as the band's existing legacy, frankly, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it.