Monday, September 28, 2026

My Funny Valentine (you’re my favorite work of art)

Hi! It’s been like two years! I know! I’m not great at this!

PREFACE

One thing Garcia was often quoted as saying is that he learned "real music" from Merl Saunders, i.e. the nuts and bolts of how jazz and the pop standards of the Great American Songbook work (i.e. material beyond American folk traditions like the blues, folk, bluegrass, etc.). One such song, My Funny Valentine, looms large in the Garcia/Saunders lore. Saunders said it was one of the first songs that he taught Garcia (Greenfield, Dark Star), and that it was the first song Garcia wanted to relearn during the recovery from his diabetic coma in 1986 (Jackson, Garcia: An American Life). At the gig Saunders played on the day Garcia died, he told the story once again and played the song. It must have meant a lot to both men. But in hindsight it does seem like an odd tune to be so central to the story: for one thing, it’s not a song that Garcia seems to have actually played very often - there are only 17 known versions - and it's not one of those little melodies that kept popping up in his warm-ups, noodlings, or stream-of-conscious improvisations (like, say, Freedom Jazz Dance). Yet My Funny Valentine seems to hold a special place as a cornerstone of the two men’s musical relationship.


(sidenote: the other jazz standard from this early period is Georgia On My Mind, which also warrants investigation, so hopefully that will be coming eventually. Garcia/Saunders went on to play several more jazz tunes, of course. But given Saunders’ musical influence, it is interesting that from a significant piece of their time together, 1970-1973, these were the only two standards they played that we know of)


With that in mind, I listened sequentially to the 15 performances that are currently available, and I made a little listening guide re: how they structured each one: when they soloed over the form of the song (i.e. jazz), when they jammed out on just the vamp (like jazz musicians, but also like the Dead and every other rock band that jammed), when they got spacey/noisy/atonal/what-have-you, and what all that might reveal about the master plan. I don’t know how much consensus there is among more musically educated listeners about how much Garcia really internalized post-swing era jazz language - and I am not an informed-enough musician to offer a technical critique of how well Garcia plays jazz - but mapping this out seems like a good place to start. Also, y’know, it’s fun.

 

THE SONG ITSELF (AND A QUICK CENTENNIAL SHOUTOUT TO JOHN COLTRANE)

Like many standards of the era, My Funny Valentine was written for a Broadway musical in the 1930’s (music by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Lorenz Hart), and was later adapted by jazz musicians as source material to improvise on. Thousands of musicians have played it, hundreds have recorded it, but it is still primarily associated with its first major exponent, Chet Baker, who recorded it first as an instrumental feature in 1953 with the Gerry Mulligan Quartet, and then in 1954 as a vocal feature for himself, and then again and again as his calling card for the rest of his life. Miles Davis is the other primary exemplar, with definitive versions recorded in 1956 and 1964, the latter of which titled an album
. Jimmy Smith, who pretty much wrote the book on playing modern jazz on the Hammond organ, made a well-regarded 1957 recording that Saunders must have known. For the majority of the mid/late 20th century general public, however, Frank Sinatra’s 1954 recording is probably the gold standard. Also, because I cannot resist, I offer a bonus tip of the cap to another one of my favs, Bill Evans’ & Jim Hall’s uncharacteristically upbeat duet from 1962. (Thanks to Ted Gioia's excellent book The Jazz Standards (2012) for help with this overview.) 

 
Most versions are played as a ballad in 4/4 taken at a dead-slow tempo, sometimes so slow that it may feel difficult to count along. The song's structure is AABC – I don’t want to get too into the weeds with this, but if you’re not familiar with this terminology, AABC refers to the different segments of the My Funny Valentine’s melody: there are eight measures over a certain set of chords (the ‘A’ section), then another eight measures with different lyrics over the same set of chords (the ‘A’ section again), then eight measures over a new set of chords (the ‘B’ section, or the bridge), and then eight measures over still more new chords that wraps up the melody of the song (the ‘C’ section). This matters because improvisers will use this structure as a roadmap through their solo. And that matters if you’re listening because, if you understand this, even to a small degree, you can hear the solo as having a shape and form, rather than as an arbitrary-seeming stream of notes. The soloists will improvise over the same chord progression as the A, A, B, and C sections, then they will either end their solo, or continue soloing by starting over again and improvising on the same AABC structure of chords.

Garcia/Saunders used the same structure and chord progressions as all the classic versions, but made two very distinctive changes in their arrangement. They performed it not as a slow ballad in 4/4, but in a loping 6/8 time at a more moderate tempo. I don't know offhand of anyone else who played it this way (there are hundreds of recordings, so who knows), but the idea seems clearly indebted to John Coltrane’s performance of My Favorite Things (also, coincidentally, composed by Richard Rodgers!). I won't say it completely changes the song, but it makes a big difference: it gives it a very definite groove, whereas the original ballad reading is usually slow enough to nearly levitate. Garcia/Saunders’ version also added a brief introduction to the song, a short vamp (the jazzy term for alternating between two chords, rather than playing over a set sequence of chords). Coltrane’s approach was to play the melody of My Favorite Things more or less as written by the original composers, and then to solo over a two-chord vamp, which he had also used to introduce the song. Unlike soloing over a set structure of chord progressions, Coltrane would solo over the much-simpler vamp for as long as he felt like. This approach was hugely influential on the Dead and countless other musicians. (Happy 100th birthday to John Coltrane, btw!) As it turned out, Garcia/Saunders took both approaches to playing My Funny Valentine: the big thing I learned from this project is that Garcia, Saunders, and (later) Fierro had it both ways: they would solo over the AABC progression of the song itself, and then would discard the changes and improvise over the extended vamp to their heart’s content (The System used the same approach, but Garcia did this a lot in non-jazz songs like Deal, Tangled Up in Blue, Mississippi Half-Step, and many others: play some solos over the song’s chord progression, then open up at the end for a longer jam on one or two chords).

15 PERFORMANCES AT A GLANCE

Just to be clear, soloing "over the form" and "over the changes" means the same thing: the soloist is playing over the chords changes to the melody of My Funny Valentine. A “chorus” in jazz lingo is one full cycle of the AABC chord progression (so playing for two choruses would be soloing over AABC, then AABC again). The “head” is jazz lingo for the melody of the song (played at the beginning, and usually again at the end). The "vamp" is the back-and-forth two-chord groove that briefly begins the song, and then is returned to when they abandon the changes after the first round of solos. Sometimes they stay close to the two-chord figure they play in the intro, sometimes they play the chromatic descending bassline of the first four bars of the tune’s melody, sometimes some considerable variation or combination of similar ideas, and sometimes cutting loose for more open waters. Some of these get so loose that all rhythmic and clearly harmonic playing intentionally goes out the window, which I am calling "Space."

I am not generally analyzing or commenting on the quality of Jerry's solos over the changes: generally speaking, he sounds comfortable but not exactly fluent, which I am sure he would be the first to admit. In almost all of these, the excitement is generated in the open-ended jam, which was more of Jerry's comfort zone.

7/5/73 The Lion's Share, San Anselmo, CA - from Garcia Live Vol. 6 

 

The earliest known performance is a bit of a mess, due in part to the guest trumpet player. He comes in hot right at the start, soloing over the intro vamp for almost two minutes, until Merl Saunders pointedly begins playing the melody of the song with the accompanying changes - but the trumpet keeps playing over this. Garcia is quietly comping away until 3:13 when he assertively butts in and begins his own solo by clearly playing the beginning of the melody (which he never fully plays). But the trumpet is still playing over this, finally simmering down as Garcia goes on to solo for one chorus over the form. Saunders takes a turn (one chorus), Garcia takes another turn (one chorus), during which the trumpet returns - then the trumpet gets a “proper” solo chorus, but now sounding, ironically, less assured than before. There's another full chorus of uncertain "who's soloing?" float time: Saunders plays a bit of the melody to keep them all from losing the form, but no one picks up the ball for the rest of the chorus. Then Garcia takes one more solo chorus to himself, and then at 13 min they set sail off into open waters, discarding the changes and staying on the intro vamp. This now feels more "jammy," especially given that the trumpeter and Garcia are playing with (or across) each other for most of it. By 16:30, the energy has peaked and is cooling down -- Saunders unusually doodles around on his ARP synthesizer briefly, and at 17:20 there's kind of a bass solo before everyone comes back in for a big dramatic ending, but without returning to the head.

(yes, we know the name of the trumpeter, but I’d just as soon leave it out since I’m not being particularly complimentary here)


7/8/73 Record Plant, Sausalito, CA - shnid 157862

I assume this “Live from the Record Plant” radio broadcast was to help promote the release of the Fire Up LP? But maybe not, since I thought the album had been released several months earlier, so maybe this radio gig was also to promote the 7/19 Great American Music Hall show, which was the album release party? Anyway. Unlike the preceding Lion's Share performance, this one is played as tight as they ever did it, and I imagine that Garcia was looking to Saunders to keep this one squarely on the tracks. Garcia cleanly plays the head, Saunders solos first (this is the only time he goes first in any of these). Each of them takes a single chorus at a time: Saunders, Garcia, Saunders again, Garcia again. Then at 7:41 you can hear Garcia call out "no changes" (to John Kahn, I suspect) and Saunders solos again, but this time over the vamp. So there you go: that was clearly an arrangement choice, not just them losing the form (which, to be honest, I had assumed was sometimes the case). Saunders solos for exactly a minute, Garcia picks it up and runs with it for another minute; at around 10 minutes they begin a fairly abrupt slow-down and stop. Again, there’s no return to the head; I wonder if someone flashed them a signal to wrap it up? 11ish minutes in total.


7/10/73 Keystone - from Complete Keystone set

One would think that prepping for a radio broadcast and a live album probably inspired a bit of extra rehearsal? It sure sounds like. They jump on this one, taking it at a notably faster tempo than before. Garcia solos for one chorus, Saunders for two, then Garcia comes back on the vamp. This solo comes to a clean, distinct end with Garcia returning to the vamp itself (i.e. the chords/rhythm he plays in the intro). Saunders solos, again ending in a very clear-cut way, and Garcia picks it up again. Even though there's more of an open-ended form to these improvisations, they don't feel all that "jammy," comparatively: each solo has an arc to it that rises, falls, and has a clear end point where the baton is passed. It's worth pointing out that Garcia is in freaking beast mode here: he sounds fully comfortable with this, and with some clear guardrails and nothing in his way, he just opens up and blazes. His second turn over the vamp goes for longer and gets looser, and eventually the groove begins to collapse; then at 15 minutes Garcia begins the intro vamp again and sets up the return to the head: this time Saunders plays the song's melody, not Garcia, and at 18:05 they are done. Phew! That was crisp, clean, and very energetic. Why didn't they choose it for the album? Well...


7/11/73 Keystone
- from Complete Keystone set

…this one, chosen for the original Live at Keystone LP, is actually pretty different. For one thing, it’s a notably more laid back performance. It has the same format at first: Garcia plays the head, solos for one chorus, Saunders solos for two, Garcia solos over the vamp, Saunders solos over the vamp, Garcia solos again. But this time the transition between the vamp solos are less clearly defined, and by the time Garcia takes the lead from Saunders around 11 minutes, things are getting pretty loose. At 12 min, the steady groove has been abandoned and, for the first time, they're getting into more "space" territory. But at 13:46, Garcia returns to the intro/vamp, noodles over it for a bit, and then brings back the head/melody. The bass and drums are still pretty loose, but they return to the form/changes, then jam out on the outro vamp for a little bit and wrap it up at 17:55. Given how hot the previous night’s version was, it’s interesting that they went with this one: the looser approach and the collapse into (semi-)Space is maybe what they wanted to represent? But it's pretty cool that back-to-back versions are so different!




7/19/73 (not circulating)

Tape exists, but only a small fragment is circulating, so My Funny Valentine isn’t available. Martin Fierro played part of the show, but apparently did not play on this song.


9/6/73 Capitol Theatre, Passaic, NJ - shnid 136778

This show and a Hells Angels party the night before were the band's first out-of-town gigs, which were also (as far as we know?) the first time that Garcia played his Wolf guitar on stage. Bill Kreutzmann plays with the group for the first time (on tape) in a year and half, and Fierro is not present. The solos over the form go Garcia (one chorus) > Saunders (two) > Garcia (two!) and then right into Garcia soloing over the vamp. He sounds audibly relieved and takes off like a shot, which I find delightful and endearing. The transition to Saunders' solo over the vamp seems to throw Kreutzmann and Kahn for a second, and I suspect that they were still finding their hook up, but weren't fully there yet (I wonder if Kreutzmann had internalized by 1973 to follow Garcia where he was going, whereas Bill Vitt played like a more normal drummer, so Kahn had to reorient a bit?). Saunders solos, Garcia solos again, and now (12ish min in) things get a little looser/friskier/intense, and Kreutzmann almost kicks it over the edge, but Garcia opts to bring it back around to the head again. But! They play the full melody, Garcia solos over the outro vamp, Saunders takes a turn, they dart back and forth around each other, and then Garcia plays the entire head again! Great energy here, and he slows them down to a finish at 21:25. I also would like to mention that, at the very start of this, Saunders is playing his Fender Rhodes piano, but moves to organ quickly and stays there. Which is kind of a tease, given how cool it would have sounded if Saunders had soloed on it. But it was never to be.


10/2/73 Winterland
- shnid 83809

Another unusual gig, a multi-act benefit (air quotes?) for the Hells Angels, with a few guests including Fierro and an additional trumpet player (still TBD, as far as I know). Kreutzmann is again at the drums. I also hear Kahn sounding a little busier than normal tonight. Garcia plays the head clearly (nothing from the horns), then solos for one chorus; the trumpet takes one, Fierro takes two, with Garcia joining him as he gets frothier; Saunders takes one chorus with nice unison lines from the horns behind him. At 10:20 Garcia takes off over the vamp, with Kahn again sounding like he’s bugging out here and the horns sounding very nice behind all this. Saunders take over, Garcia chimes in and kind of grabs the reins from him, getting edgier and more assertive, as the horns continue a relatively restrained unison line behind this. Cool! The energy stays within the bounds, but barely: Kahn and Merl sound like they're pushing the envelope here, Kahn especially. Intense energy in the final minutes of the vamp/jam, but nothing that gets into Spacier places. At 16ish min, Garcia brings it back down as Kahn seems to begin soloing - but Garcia plays the head, even as Kahn keeps playing his own thing. Not sure what’s got into either of them, but it works itself out, the horns continue their tasty support, and it wraps up at 18:25. The horns sound really good in this one! Very different from the more chaotic 7/5/73.


10/12/73 Keystone
- shnid 150529

Bill Vitt is back on drums (his name is on the box), and no Fierro. To my ears, this is the mellowest, most "after hours" vibey version on tape. Very tasty, but very laid back. They vamp on the intro a little longer than usual, Garcia and Saunders each take a solo chorus after the melody, and then there's a full chorus of no one soloing, just the band playing the changes. Then Garcia picks it up again, soloing over the vamp; this gets a little sparse as it goes, then makes the handoff to Saunders. At 14 minutes, the group tumbles into spacier playing and by 15 min this is a pretty Grateful Dead-styled Space: mellow, but definitely out there. And they stay out there for about 3 1/2 minutes. This is the longest 'space' of any of these? At 18:35 Jerry swings back the intro vamp and plays the head, and then, unusually, Saunders takes another solo chorus over the form, ending with a big dramatic swell. They finish at 23:33, the longest one so far. Very nice indeed.


11/3/73 Keystone
- shnid 123279

Vitt's name is on the tape box, and this was apparently his last show with the group. One might think, given the insane energy of some of the earlier improv this night (the 40 min Expressway > jam > Merl's Tune extravagaganza), and given how long this performance is (the longest by far), that it would be the mothership version. But I do not find this as engaging as many others on this list. Nothing goes wrong and I wouldn't say they sound "tired," but they don't seem to be pushing for anything, either. Garcia (one chorus), Fierro (two) and Saunders (two) all solo over the changes, then Jerry sets off for a 4+ minute trip over the vamp. But the vamp doesn't change or develop all that much - I do hear some cool sustain/feedbacked trails from Garcia here and there, though - and Fierro keeps to himself until it's his turn to go for a few more minutes. Then Saunders, and still no one is pushing this much further than the vamp/groove. Even Kahn gets a little bit of the spotlight before Garcia trickles back in. Saunders seems game for some weirdness, but it doesn't catch fire, even as things finally collapse into arrhythmic spaciness. But this lasts only for a minute before Garcia takes them back into the head. The outro vamp gets an extended (maybe 2 1/2 minutes) workout with Garcia and Fierro starting to give off some smoke, and it ends at 29:04. "Well, it's closing time in Berkeley, everybody." It sounds, frankly, like they were all ready for it. Not a lot of interaction or pushing the limits in this one. Ah well.


11/5/73 Keystone
- shnid 136640

Kreutzmann is now the primary drummer (his name isn’t written on the reels, but listen to Mystery Train: it’s him). I have not yet talked about sound quality, but now is the time to mention that so far all of these tapes sound beautiful, and this one in particular is an immaculate example of Betty Cantor-Jackson’s art. Garcia solos over the form (one), Fierro (two) gets a little squonky, Saunders (one) - again I am hearing that Kreutzmann and Kahn hadn’t quite sanded off all their rough edges yet - and Garcia trickles back in, now over the vamp. Fierro takes over at 11 min, but everyone now sounds like they’re ready to get into a weirder place; things settle briefly for Saunders to take over, but everyone is pulling in promisingly weird directions. At 13 minutes, it’s off into Space for real, with a nice little noisy peak before it collapses after a minute back into the vamp and head. Garcia is really ripping some fast runs in here that I love. They take two minutes to extend the outro vamp, make a nice pronounced ending, and end at 18:38. "See y'all later, thanks for coming out in the rain and all that." Garcia sounds spry and rarin' to go here. Very nice indeed. November 73!


1/17/74 Keystone - shnid 76474

Garcia plays the head, but is clearly out of tune and is getting it together as he goes. He starts to take the first solo, but backs off (still not in tune), so Fierro picks it up (two choruses) before Garcia budges back in, chomping at the bit now (one chorus). Saunders takes one chorus, but Garcia can’t help himself and joins in midway. Who’s soloing next? They shift to the vamp, with both Garcia and Saunders grooving upfront, Fierro joining into the mix tentatively. The vamp pulls apart and coheres and pulls apart again, fully collapsing near 16 min with some big Garcia fanning action and grinding to a near stop. This is definitely one of the more “interactive” and elastic jams so far. At 16:09 Garcia starts the intro vamp and Saunders begins to play the head, but no one else is making the changes with him, so he solos loosely for a couple minutes until Garcia rears back up. The two toss the ball back and forth (you can hear Fierro quoting Wayne Shorter’s Footprints - another jazz tune in 6/8 time, btw - in the background at 19:30), and the intensity ratchets up back to a second Space climax. They wrap it up, but keep noodling spacily, never returning to the melody. Done by 24:15. Yeeow. Garcia seems particularly inspired tonight and not afraid to throw his weight around, and this one seems as adventurous as it gets.


2/5/74 Great American Music Hall
- shnid 32088

Feels like a slower tempo than later 74 versions, and also feels a little labored? I don't think it's the tape speed? The mix isn't great, either, since it’s a straight sbd feed, not a Bettyboard. Dedicated readers of this humble blog may note that this is the show where I was convinced Fierro was playing two horns at once, but this most recent relisten has me doubting that conviction.

Garcia plays the head and very quickly the unison saxophones are audible behind him, playing some very clear lines that I’ve not heard Fierro play before. Garcia solos, flowing right out of the melody (nice!), then Fierro (two choruses) with nothing from the other sax at all; then Saunders, with Garcia pushing in to rejoin him midway through (this is becoming a habit? arguably not the best habit?). At 9:15 Fierro(?) solos again for one chorus – or maybe this is the second saxophone player, although to my ears the tone and style sounds just like Fierro – we hear a bit of the two horns at 11 minutes. Garcia moves to the vamp and solos again. Some unison stuff from the horns at 12ish minutes. Saunders come to the fore at 14 min; the periodic horn lines are becoming a little repetitive (to be fair, they’re too high in the mix) - but at 16:37 I am thinking this must be two separate horn players. Saunders goes for a few minutes; at 17:30 Garcia is back on top, things getting hairier and more intense, loosening up but never fully losing it; it comes to a near stop just shy of 19 minutes, the vamp restarts and Garcia plays the head. The outro of this is drawn-out and spacier/freeish; again the two horns here sound like separate players. Done at 22:47.

As a whole, this version is ill-served by the tape mix, but is a solid effort overall. With regards to the horns: ayee, I’m going back to revise my old post, I guess. Timestamps for the curious (fileset 32088): @16:37 and @21:23 are two instances where this sounds like two separate musicians. The sax solos begin at 3:52 and 9:15, but these both sound like Martin Fierro to me. Did he have a twin brother?


6/6/74 Keystone
- shnid 6375

Young Tony Saunders on bass! I am sure Merl was a good teacher, and Tony most definitely has got a handle on the tune's form and is holding it down. As you may recall, this is a fantastic Louis Falanga stage mic tape. Garcia is heard calling the tune beforehand, but it sounds like he spaces out on the melody, and Fierro bails him out and plays the lead here. Unusual! Garcia actually plays very little during the head (maybe some tech issue?), but jumps in ready to go with the first solo (one chorus), then Saunders (one), Fierro (two), Garcia again (two), and then at 13:15 he continues off into the vamp. But then, unusually, at 15 minutes Garcia returns to the melody and the form. They finish and seem a little lost on the vamp, with Garcia and Fierro tentatively searching, before Saunders reasserts the changes clearly at 17:30. They vamp on the outro and end at 21:14. Well, then. This one has the least amount of open-ended jamming; maybe that was out of deference to Tony, who clearly knows the tune itself, but maybe wasn’t as comfortable opening up and trying new things on longer vamps? (maybe that’s not fair? He sounds great in these shows). Anyway: this sounds just great, but is the most “straightforward” version since the earliest ones.


7/2/74 The Bottom Line, New York, NY - shnid 112133

As I covered before, these NYC shows were tacked on to the Dead's northeast tour, in promotion of Garcia's Compliments album. Like 9/6/73, Fierro didn’t make the trip, so it's just the quartet with Kreutzmann. Our only recording is Jerry Moore’s aud tape, which is good for what it is, but a little bit of a wet blanket after so many pristine recordings. Nevertheless, this one is a smoker. Garcia solos (one chorus) and Saunders (two) and then off into the vamp. I am probably projecting, but some of that Dead June 74 energy is crackling in the wires here, and Garcia seems to be telegraphing that he's ready to take it outside fairly early on. But oh woe, there's a nasty tape cut as the intensity builds. The tape resumes in Saunders' first vamp solo, which starts weird around 14:55 and Garcia heads right for the deep end. The collapse of the groove is pretty exquisite and, despite a couple of retrenchments back to the vamp, things boil over by 17 min and enter full free Space territory. Yessiree. At 19:40 Garcia returns to the head, gets frothy over the extended outro vamp, and then he slow-walks them down to a landing at 23:17. It would be wonderful to unearth a sbd of this, given how assertive and energetic this one is. Like I said in my old review, this pairs very well with the Dead's jams from the month before, and it's a pity more heads don't know it.



8/31/74 Keystone
- shnid 8078

Another Falanga stage mic tape, not as sublime as 6/6 but still plenty nice. Solos are Garcia (one), Fierro (two), Saunders (one), and then Garcia over the vamp for about 3 minutes. For the first time in any of these(?), he hits his wahwah pedal, prompting Fierro to turn on his echoplex effect, as Saunders comes to the fore to solo. Fierro's electronic effects could be a little crudely overdone, but the echo sure works here, adding a nice spacey layer to this otherwise pretty tight groove - Kreutzmann is eating this up, though no one seems inclined to push too hard at the boundaries tonight. They just ride this one for the duration, but they all sound inspired and are certainly not cruising: Garcia gets hairy at times, but there’s no serious rocking of the collective boat. At 18:20 he very intentionally wraps it up and walks them back into the head, and they are done at 21:45. Nice! I will take the trade-off of intense spacier playing for the more gentle textural effects that Fierro provides here.


10/6/74 (not circulating)

Drummer Jim Nelson subbed this weekend with the group. The first set circulates, with a very stretched-out Valdez in the Country > jam > Freedom Jazz Dance - but not the second with My Funny Valentine. Someday, baby?


11/14/74 Paul's Mall, Boston, MA - shnid 135968

The final Garcia/Saunders run was the east coast tour with drummer Paul Humphrey. This is the only known performance of My Funny Valentine by this lineup, perhaps played in acknowledgement of being next door to a famous jazz club. You can currently choose between two aud tapes, one exceptionally clear but with a chatty neighbor (135968), the other more muffled but free from distraction (16461). Garcia solos for one chorus, Fierro goes long with three - he has his Varitone effect on tonight and gets a little squonkier than usual, which does at least shush the chatters - then Saunders (two), then Garcia takes off on the vamp. Things loosen up, the three of them toss the ball around, and @14 min things are getting spacey. They stay in the zone for less than a minute before Garcia brings it back to ground level, but instead of the head they move right into People Make the World Go Round. This jam was great! I wish it was a lot longer! Humphrey sounds fantastic, not too dissimilar from Kreutzmann on a good day: he is flowing here and I'd say he was more of a natural jazz drummer and drives this a bit more than Kruetzmann usually did. It’s a real shame this tune was at the end of its tenure.


Coda: there is one more known studio version from 1978 Club Front “jazz” sessions, about which I have idle speculations. I have not heard it and I am not really counting it – I assume it's just Garcia and Keith Godchaux, and maybe Kahn. Hopefully they dug in rather than just giving it a passing glance, and, if so, it would be cool to hear how/if Garcia’s playing over the changes had developed since 1974. Also, I can't help but notice that they also played Georgia On My Mind on the same day!? But we will have to wait and see.


So: It’s probably overdoing it to say that My Funny Valentine represented a kind of ideal balance between what Garcia wanted to do (play “real jazz” over changes) and what Garcia gravitated towards (open jamming), but in the more exciting versions above, it does feel that way! Playing over changes like this ultimately wasn’t something Garcia seemed interested in really pursuing, but he also never put it aside altogether: Russian Lullaby is the one “jazz” song that Garcia never abandoned, so continued to spin out long jazz solos (albeit over his preferred languid tempo) until the end. But My Funny Valentine was big enough to allow both for Garcia’s musical aspirations and his musical comfort zone of plunging forward into the unknown with relatively few guidelines imposed by the material itself. I wish we had more of this: and what we have is wonderful.

A good note to end on is that Merl Saunders’ birthday was on Valentine's Day. That couldn't have been overlooked as they played this song. The lyric’s last line is "every day is Valentine's Day."


Tuesday, July 30, 2024

Someday Baby: a proposal

 


Dunno what on earth possessed me to go down this rabbit hole today, but I saw the song Someday Baby credited, as it always is on Garcia releases, to Lightnin' (Sam) Hopkins, and something inside me snapped. I like Someday Baby. I like its sly little strut, and I like how it weaves its way periodically through Garcia's career, first as a regular thing for Garcia/Saunders, then with Reconstruction, and then in brief spells with the JGB until 1991. I have probably said elsewhere that I take it as a good omen when it pops up in a JGB set, maybe a little sign that Jerry was feeling extra spritely that night (granted, this list doesn't necessarily prove that theory but, hey, um, never miss a Sunday show? whatever. I feel the same way about Money Honey).

Texas blues singer/guitarist Lightnin' Hopkins is always credited as the composer on official releases, although Deaddisc gives the composer of the song as Traditional / Sleepy John Estes / Lightning Hopkins, noting that "the song is attributed to Lightnin' Hopkins on the Garcia recordings but the origins of the song pre-date Hopkins."  But I propse that we go one step further and, for Garciacentric purposes, just credit Estes and co-writer Hammie Nixon - not Hopkins at all.

Sleepy John Estes (1899-1977) first recorded Someday Baby Blues for Decca in 1935, accompanied by his longtime partner Hammie Nixon on harmonica, and both were credited as the songwriters. (note that Deaddisc lists one earlier Someday Baby by Buddy Moss, but that one has almost no similarity to Estes' song). Structurally and lyrically, Estes' original version is essentially the same song that Garcia performed.  In 1938, Estes recorded an updated New Someday Baby, keeping the same structure and chorus, but changing all of the verses.  In 1962, post-"rediscovery," he re-recorded the song with its original lyrics for his Delmark LP The Legend of Sleepy John Estes. Ultimately, the song became so associated with Estes that it was used as the epitaph on his gravestone.

Lightnin' Hopkins recorded his own Someday Baby in 1948 (this recording was reissued several times on LP by Crown, first in 1961).  His version is the same basic song as Estes' but with a new set of completely different verses and a slightly modified chorus (from "you ain't gonna worry my mind anymore" to "you ain't gonna worry my life anymore"). His unaccompanied performance is also quite different from Estes': imho, the lyrics aren't nearly as good, but Hopkins' guitar playing is much more exciting: looser and more spontaneous-feeling, with two impressive breaks.  Deaddisc has a handy list of further versions/variants of the song, including one that you may be familiar with: Muddy Waters' Trouble No More from 1955, which kept most of Estes' original lyrics intact, and went on to become a staple for the Allman Brothers Band.

In 1960, B.B. King recorded Someday Baby for his My Kind of Blues LP (*see tangent below. Also, the LP was on Crown, the label that released Lightnin' Hopkins' 1948 recording in 1961). The arrangement is for a 4-piece band in King's trademark urbane style, but the song itself is the same as Estes' original 1935 recording, with nearly identical lyrics. King's record credits the songwriters as Estes/Nixon.


It is unmistakably B.B. King's version that Garcia "covered" with his own groups. Through various permutations from 1973-1991, Garcia's arrangement stayed basically the same as King's, from the opening lick, to the solo that precedes the first verse, to the way that Garcia phrases the line "you ain't gonna woorrrry my mind anymore."  The biggest difference, actually, is that Garcia often sang Estes' original line, whereas B.B. King and Lightnin' Hopkins both sang "worry my life."  And, if there's any doubt remaining, on 7/5/73 you can hear someone (Kahn, I think?) say off-mic "let's do that B.B. King song" before they play it (see fileset 79032, track 1 @11:40; I'm not sure if this is edited out on the GarciaLive official release).

But every official Garcia release still credits the song to Lightnin' Hopkins. It's an understandable error, I suppose, given how well familiar Garcia was with Hopkins' music (see here for two mentions); Garcia even said that Pigpen "picked up, just by watching and listening to me, the basic Lightnin’ Hopkins [guitar] stuff" (see here).  So it seems probable that Garcia knew of Hopkins' version of Someday Baby (he may well have had the 60's Crown lp) and possible that he might even have referred to it as a Hopkins song, which could be how it wound up being credited that way on Live at Keystone and every subsequent release.

Authorship and attribution in the blues tradition can be a very murky issue, and I am not saying that Estes is 100% responsible for the creation of the song. But he is absolutely responsible for the variant of it that came to Garcia via B.B. King - not Lightnin' Hopkins. So I nominate that henceforth everyone credit the song to just Estes/Nixon, not Hopkins.

* [sidenote/tangent: I can't help noticing that My Kind of Blues was released within a year of Miles Davis' Kind of Blue (1959). The liner notes for My Kind of Blues (scans) devote a lot of space to discussing jazz, concluding that B.B. King is the exemplar of a "particular form of jazz." Genre, presentation, reception - ain't it a bitch?]

Wednesday, May 1, 2024

the funky funky System

In which I listen to the five known live Garcia/Saunders performances of Merl Saunders' short-lived tune "The System" and make some long-winded observations. Just what it says on the tin, folks.

Merl, 9/2/74, by Greg Gaar

"The System" was, briefly, one of the Garcia/Saunders band's long jam tunes.  Like Saunders' earlier "Man-Child" and slightly later "Merl's Tune," there are only a few known recordings, but each one is stretched to the limit and provides fertile ground for a lot of improvisation.  It was recorded for the Fire Up! lp by the band (with Tom Fogerty) sometime in Dec 72-Jan 73. The track on the album has lyrics, sung by both Saunders and the Edwin Hawkins Singers, although before the earliest live version you can hear someone in the band refer to it as a new instrumental.

[update: commenter nathan pointed out a dumb mistake I made, which I have since fixed. So much for proofreading! thank you nathan!]
The song's structure is a modified blues in Bb with an unusual 20-bar form: eight bars of Bb, four of Eb, four of F, and four of Bb (I am sticking to jazz convention here and calling this 20-bar Bb/Bb/Eb/F/Bb progression a chorus).  The jam does away with the progression and just vamps on Bb with no other chord changes.  On the album, they play one 20-bar chorus instrumental, one chorus with vocals, one chorus of Merl soloing on Hammond (with the Hawkins' vocals coming in midway through), then a brief vamp on Bb with Merl soloing on ARP synthesizer before the fade at just under 4 minutes.  Fire Up! wasn't released until April 1973 (according to the mentions of it that I can find in Billboard), so all but one of these live performances are from before the record came out.  

A note about keyboards: Merl usually played a Hammond organ, an electric piano, and a clavinet. For a brief while he also had an ARP synthesizer (not sure of the model; an ARP Odyssey, I presume?), which he played sparingly, but always on The System.  Two trademark sounds of most of these performances is his electric piano upfront, with a generous helping of wahwah pedal, and his ARP coming in at some later point in the jam.

12/28/72 The Lion's Share

This entire show deserves a full write-up: it's fantastic and there's a lot worth commenting on.  The System, the final tune of the night, is missing from the second of the two circulating filesets, so double-check your copy.  Earlier in the set, Roger "Jellyroll" Troy and guitarist/singer Danny Cox sit in, replacing Kahn and Fogerty, and I am pretty sure they are both still playing on this tune. An unidentified trumpet player also makes an appearance; it's apparently not Mike Price, the previously unidentified trumpeter who sat in with G/S a couple of times in 1973-74, and attendee Dave Tamarkin recalls that the trumpeter "just walked up out of the crowd" to play.

After some off-mic banter about the tune (see below), Jerry kicks it off with a Mr. Charlie-ish riff (all later versions are started by Vitt's drums). This version stays with the 20-bar form of the tune for the longest of any of these versions: the play the full form twice (by "play the form" I mean they're just playing the the song without the lyrics, basically just playing through the changes since there's no instrumental melody to speak of), then solo over the changes: Garcia, Saunders, Garcia, trumpet (for 2 choruses), Saunders, Garcia; he keeps on soloing but @11 they stop making the changes and just stick with Bb for the duration.  As they set sail into open waters, Cox's guitar joins Garcia in the improv; the trumpet sneaks back in @11:50 but doesn't add much, and @12:30 Vitt kicks up the tempo. This is a glorious mess, all that you want from a high-energy, all-in group improv like this.  @14 they ease back and shift gears into a new groove, and it sounds like Garcia is proposing a key change to someplace else; but Troy isn't leaving the Bb vamp, so no dice.  They groove along.  After @16ish, it again sounds like Garcia is thinking of spacier places, and Saunders and Vitt seem like they're there with him.  I detect a thread of proto-Slipknot in the fabric @16:28.  The trumpet reenters quietly while Garcia is tearing it up here. @17:45 Cox and Troy start a Bo Diddley rhythm, but Garcia is still flying high, so they don't push it until he comes back down around 19 min.  Troy steps upfront to play a little lead bass, with that trumpet still quietly percolating away.  @19:45 Saunders starts raining down some cool cosmic-sounding ARP stuff, as Garcia hangs in the back with Troy and Cox. Go Merl!  @21 Troy starts playing a distinctive bassline (he's still in Bb), then starts playing more busy/actively, with Saunders still going crazy on the ARP, and Cox and Garcia both going off (haven't heard the trumpet for a while).  Wow.  @22:30 Jerry starts playing a repeated little melodic fragment that Cox picks up on -- this sounds a little Allmansy or maybe AWBYGN-ish (it's not either) -- it sounds like he's trying to rally everyone and bring this all back to earth?  He and Cox toss this figure back and forth between them as everyone slowly comes in for a landing.  24:10 total.  This jam is bananas and, in many ways, the most exciting of these five performances: lightning strikes and catches fire.  Great, great stuff.

beforehand:
As Troy and Cox come onstage a few songs earlier, it sounds like Cox says "don't play no jazz" and Jerry replies that they'll play some blues.  Before The System, there's an off-mic exchange, of which I could make out the following:

Troy(?): Merl, what do you wanna do, brother? wanna do something? ...let's do one of your instrumentals.
Cox(?): Something not too hard.
?: Let's do that new one... How does that new one go?
Jer: What's that?
? The new one of Merl's.
Jer: the one in - ah, you mean the System? Wanna try that? B flat. The System?
? How does it go?
Jer: It's a B flat (someone else: I-IV-V) Kind of like a boogaloo, like a New Orleans boogaloo, something like that... it goes Bb, then it does it a second time, then a third time, it does the same thing [this doesn't make sense and is barely audible]
?: you mean the 5th comes after the 4th?
Jer: Ask Merl, I don't remember. I remember when I play it. I don't really understand it.

"I remember when I play it. I don't really understand it."  Jerry Garcia, ladies and gentlemen. If you don't know, I-IV-V refers to the chord progression: I-IV-V in the key of Bb is the shorthand way to say that the chords are Bb, Eb (the 4th), and F (the 5th) (edit: thank you again, nathan). This is one of the basic building blocks of most blues and bluegrass music, so I'm not sure why Jerry says, "I don't really understand it" --  or why nobody just says it's basically a blues in Bb, just play the first Bb for an extra 4 bars. But whatever.

Then we have three versions played close together.  Given the patchy documentation of early Garcia/Saunders, it's remarkable that we have five shows from January 1973.  Evidently all of Betty's tapes from this month are labeled the "Merl Saunders Experience," which could just be a short lived in-joke, or could signify something else -- I won't speculate here.  Sarah Fulcher was singing with the band for this brief period.

1/19/73 Keystone

I wrote up the full show here, and now have a slightly more charitable opinion of this jam. Bill Vitt's drums kick off this and all subsequent versions, at a slightly brisker tempo than 12/28.  Marty David is playing bass tonight, and after some inaudible off-mic chat about the tune, he picks up on the riff that Garcia is playing and doubles it.  They play the form through once, Saunders solos (2 choruses), Garcia, Fulcher sings (1 chorus; she's not singing anything audibly related to the original lyrics), and then as Garcia starts to solo again they move off into the Bb jam.  The groove is leaner and tighter here.  Garcia solos first, Fulcher sings, @7ish min Saunders moves to the ARP and starts opening the music up underneath her. Marty David holds it down for all it's worth and sounds excellent. Fulcher and Garcia trade the spotlight back and forth and back again.  @15:30 it feels like a change in direction is imminent, but nope, Fulcher moves back in and the jam defaults back to the groove. This happens again around 18 min: Fulcher seems like she's down for where Garcia wants to go, but they never seem to fully detach. The groove is building in intensity, though, working up to a peak @20 min with Garcia trilling a single climatic note. Pretty hot!  Afterwards, Garcia again finds a distinct figure that he repeats a few times to bring everyone back down, and Marty David is right there with him.  But they're not done yet: the two of them hook up for that original bassline/riff as Saunders soloing on wah'ed elec piano - yeah Merl! - this is all pretty nasty funk here.  Fulcher sings over this, and they slowly bring down the intensity while riffing away underneath, and bring things to a gentle stop at 27:43.  Then Fulcher asks for coffee, cream and sugar for Jerry.


1/23/73 The Boarding House (GarciaLive Vol. 12)

This is the first known version with John Kahn back in his regular place.  Immediately a difference is clear: Garcia plays the same funky riff from the other versions, but Kahn's bassline is much simpler and sparser than either Troy's or David's, and leaves a huge amount of space.  This gives Bill Vitt more space to just be the amazing Bill Vitt, and gives Kahn more room/flexibility to ad-lib during the more open jamming; I don't think Kahn's approach is necessarily better or worse than Troy's or David's, but it's a difference.  

They play the form for 2 choruses, Garcia solos, Saunders solo (he's low in the mix!), and then it's off into the Bb vamp.  The tune itself, what little of it there is, seems to be atrophying with each successive version.  Saunders solos first over the vamp, then Garcia steps up.  Kahn is playing a nice rolling, descending bassline in here.  When Saunders moves to the Hammond @6:40 he gets even lower in the mix! What's that about?  Fulcher makes her entrance @7:25 and it seems like everyone makes plenty of room for her.  Speaking of mixes, her vocals are much more present here than 1/19.  Saunders adds a little ARP as she starts singing, similar to the cool descending thing he does on 12/28/72 (@19:50). They turn up the intensity as she sings on.  @10:40 Garcia starts soloing as she continues to bop along, but he backs off quickly and the intensity goes down within a minute.  This seems like the moment in every version when a direction change is being considered.  Fulcher continues free-associating here, Garcia plays a bit more, but the energy feels a little tentative, everyone's waiting for something to launch.  Kahn's playing here is relatively minimal compared with Troy or David.  They don't find a new way to go, so they build the energy back up, Fulcher and Garcia again taking turns leading the band.  After @17 min, the energy changes for real and the vibe gets weirder: Fulcher trucks on, Saunders on ARP, Kahn mostly just sitting on Bb, and Garcia delicately doodling.  And then @18:46 Garcia starts playing, out of the blue, the descending 4-chord progression that we all know as the Mind Left Body Jam.  

Saunders picks up on it quickly, Kahn finds it and perks up (he puts on his Motown hat), and they all start building back up.  The GarciaLive release changes tracks @20:04 when Fulcher starts singing Honey Chile, but everyone else just digs harder into that MLB jam, with Garcia starting to play over this @1:45 (in the Honey Chile track) as he would with the Dead on future MLB jams. Fulcher is singing freely as is her wont, but finds her way back to Honey Chile and @3:40 Garcia makes the shift to the Honey Chile chord progression (which, if I were in charge, is where I would have started the track).

Um, what now?  Where did that come from?  The Dead toyed with this idea a little bit in 1972, but it didn't become a fully-formed thing until fall 1973.  Earlier in the month, Garcia had been in the studio working on Baron Von Tollbooth with Kantner, Slick, et al, but I've never entirely bought the idea that "Your Mind Has Left Your Body" was the primary origin of this jam (more on MLB) [edit: also this fantastic post by Ethan Hein, a must-read if you want to get into the technical specs of the MLB jam]. A magical little mystery, anyway, and the clear highlight of this jam, which is otherwise the least inspired one so far.  Also, if these tapes were 16-track, why is Saunders mixed so damn low? Fulcher gets more love (mix-wise) on this release than on the older Bettyboards.


1/25/73 The Boarding House

Vitt kicks it off again, but this one is the slowest yet, substantially slower than the previous ones.  There's a cut @1:36 so we can't know how much of the "tune" they play: they all play the form once, then Garcia solos over the form at least one time, but the cut is in the middle of this solo, so it's unclear how much is missing.  After the cut, he wraps up his solo over the form and off into Bb they go.  There's some float time, Garcia solos, Saunders starts on electric piano then moves to Hammond (the stereo image seems reversed on this tape, btw), and Kahn is a little busier compared with 1/23.  The overall feel here is looser, almost laconic, but it's still a groove.  @6:35 Garcia starts cutting the lines and getting a little spacier. Nice mellow flow to all this.  They build it back up, Garcia brings it to a solid peak, then back down into the jazzier/mellower flow.  @10:29 Saunders hits the ARP suddenly with a trumpet-like blast, with some jazzy Garcia comping below.  Nice ARP situation happening here until @12:45ish when Garcia meanders back into the center of things. The tension is slowly building here, but they still stay in that liminal space until @14 min when everything seems to quickly slide downhill into Space and the groove drops out completely.  Spikier, typically "spacey" stuff.  The intensity doesn't hit full-on Tiger or Insect Fear, but goes up and down, up and down, ending with Garcia starting to form some of the Georgia On My Mind chords as everyone splashes about, and @19:13 Garcia nudges them all into Georgia.  Fulcher only comes out now -- she was totally MIA for all of the System.  

That was easily the weirdest and most laid back version so far.  Given the cut, it's hard to say for sure about what's left of the form of the song itself, but I would bet that they took even less time in getting to the Bb vamp on this one.
 

7/5/73 The Lion's Share (GarciaLive Vol. 6) 

One final version pops up five months later (the only one performed after the album was released). Fulcher wasn't at this show, and trumpeter Mike Price sat in for a good part of the night, but not for the System.  Given how the song itself seemed to have been disintegrating throughout January, I wondered what would be left by July.  But Saunders sings his lyrics here!  Pretty tentatively, but there they are.  Another mystery.  His electric piano, which had been a distinctive feature of earlier versions, is missing here completely.  He sings the first chorus, then they play one round of the form, Garcia solos for one round, and then as Saunders takes over they stay on the Bb.  Another big difference here is Bill Vitt: he starts the song off at a peppier tempo than in January, and then keeps turning up the heat, steadily increasing the tempo as they go, from around 80 to almost 100bpm. He's got some fire under him tonight!  Saunders solos for a while, Garcia takes over, the intensity keeps rising, so much so that by @7 min Vitt has doubled up and is playing more of a 4-on-the-floor beat than a funky backbeat. Okay, Bill Vitt, we see you!  @9:15 Saunders cuts some of the heat, and drives for a while on both Hammond and ARP, with a nice airier feel even as Vitt keeps his foot on the gas.  This is pretty cool!  @13:20ish, Garcia steps in to joust with Saunders a bit, and then takes over.  Saunders moves to the clavinet (not something I recall hearing in earlier versions) and @14:35 is playing these chiming whole notes below Garcia, which sounds pretty sweet to me.  As Saunders starts soloing more, he and Garcia find a nice conversational space, both adding equal weight to the jam.  Vitt doesn't let up, Garcia finds a tasty little melodic figure that he locks into, Kahn finds his way into a brief ascending 3-chord progression near the end. At 18 min it comes apart and ends fairly quickly at 18:35.  Wow!  That was an unexpected shot in the arm, but heck yes.  Great stuff.


OK, so what does it all mean?  I guess I can see why the song itself didn't stick: the 20-bar form was a little odd, not rocket science but maybe just odd enough to make it more trouble than it was worth?  Otherwise it's a funky jam on a mostly a one-chord vamp.  The core group, unsurprisingly, seem more comfortable going in different directions, where the first two versions with guests keep it more grounded.  They're all very satisfying performances, the first and last versions sticking with me as particularly inspired, but Garcia/Saunders wasn't lacking for material that could take them to similar places, so maybe this just drifted off the radar.  I dunno.  But this was a fun little rabbit hole to go down. 

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

1/19/73 Jerry wants cream and sugar

I hadn't listened to 1/19/73 at the Keystone in years, but a little discussion about bass players and musicians who subbed with Garcia/Saunders led me to circle back to it, one of the rare recordings of "solo Jerry" without John Kahn.  Bassist Marty David was holding it down tonight instead.  So, here are some listening notes, made with an ear tilted more towards the bass.  I'm sure we'll never know why Kahn missed this particular night, but Marty David does a fantastic job: he seems familiar with nearly every tune, and has a slightly lighter and cleaner touch than Kahn, favoring a slightly busier approach, though never to the point of overdoing it, and it all comes together quite nice.

Sarah Fulcher, by Jim Needham
  • I am not weighing in on Sarah Fulcher's contributions to this lineup, and if you are reading this, chances are good that you already have an opinion. Jesse Jarnow's interview explains the situation; in her defense, she says she "did the best I could under pretty much the worst circumstances in the universe" for a singer.  I did notice that, late in the show, a guy in the audience asks who she is and Jerry introduces her; it sounds like the guy yells, "Sarah sings nice!" and Jerry replies, "yeah."
  • There were several tunes that were practically unique to this lineup, and this show kicks off with the only known recording of a peppy and most certainly off-the-cuff arrangement of King Harvest's fun, goofy 1972 hit Dancing in the Moonlight (written by Sherman Kelly; quite a story), as Betty gets the mix settled. It's a good time!
  • Can't ever go wrong with Lonely Avenue.  This one doesn't have the imperial heaviness of 2/6/72 or 5/4/73, but is nevertheless nearly 18 1/2 minutes of Jerry throwing around blues licks and playing some serious guitar.  Notably, this is significantly longer than the versions played on 1/15/73 and 1/25/73, which are each a little over 12 minutes long.  Here my ears perked up around 8:15ish at a flurry of pinched harmonics (ala Roy Buchanan or Robbie Robertson), some Buchanan-esque volume swelling @11:20, and Jer piling on the intensity around 13-14 min for some climactic energy.  Merl gets a little space to say his piece, but this is pretty much all Jerry. It also caught my ear that Merl spends more time on electric piano (heavy wahwah) than Hammond organ here, giving this a more spacious feel, but maybe at the cost of some melodrama.  A couple songs later, Jimmy Reed's It's a Sin gets a similarly fine performance: it was a good blues night for Jerry!
  • Expressway - I am hearing Marty David as being a tad more on top of the beat than Kahn usually was, giving this one a nice crisp pop.  Kahn tended to lean back and lumber a bit on this tune.  Sarah sings intermittently, and they've all achieved liftoff by 7 min in -- this is pretty cooking.  During Sarah's "solos," I appreciate how the rest of the band is attentive to slowly bringing up the energy, which then gives Jerry a nice place to blast off from when it's his turn.  I hear a tiny bit of synthesizer from Merl towards the end (17:40ish) and it's all over at just under 20 min. 
  • Before The System, it sounds like Jerry is maybe explaining something about the tune to Marty David?  Oh man, Merl's electric piano sounds tasty at the start of this.  This sure is funky, but it's also nearly 28 minutes long, and the jamming is all on one chord -- my only issue with this is that Marty David holds down that bassline for all its worth (completely understandable) and isn't hearing where Jerry or Merl seem like they're ready to cut loose and stretch a little further afield.  A couple times they do slip out of the groove, but never for long.  Merl gets to flex a bit more on all three keyboards, Sarah has a few moments but nothing too intrusive, and Jerry sounds happy to just ride it out.  And so they do.  Afterwards, Sarah asks for a cup of coffee; "oh, two cups of coffee. Jerry wants cream and sugar, and I'd like to have mine with just cream, please."  Priceless.
  • I always like hearing them play Honey Chile, and Jerry sounds great, but I couldn't help but feel like they're running that same I-IV-ii-I progression forever.  Gimme a bridge already!  Jer can certainly handle it, but yeah, I can see why he eventually moved away from this being a primary focus of his side projects.  He then announces the break and Betty lets the tape roll for a minute longer, catching some jazz-flutey ambiance from the PA music, always a nice touch.  That was a long set at least an hour 45 minutes!  And pretty damn fine, I would say.


  • The second set is shorter (just over an hour) and less remarkable to my ears.  Sarah seems more like the "featured singer" on more material here, which all sounds well done to me.  She steps upfront for two of her original(?) tunes plus Georgia On My Mind, which is a fantastic version.  Someone from the crowd asks Jerry who the chick singer is (groan) and Jerry introduces her just as Sarah.
  • Again, Marty David sounds excellent on everything.  Before Soul Roach, it sounds like Jerry asks him if he knows the tune -- which he evidently does, since he's nailing all the hits at the beginning of it.  I wonder if he had also played with Merl before?  And notice him during the closing How Sweet It Is, another fine place to hear how he differs from John Kahn.

So who was Marty David anyway? All I know about him is that he went on to be a session musician, but was working at the time with Van Morrison and Jesse Colin Young. Most immediately relevant to our purposes, he was also in Sarah Fulcher's own local group with Bill Vitt (who had brought her to the Garcia/Saunders group) and future-JGB keyboardist Ozzie Ahlers (per Corry) -- so he was probably the most obvious choice as a sub for this gig. You can also hear him playing on two tracks on Hard Nose the Highway and with Van on 2/15/73 at the Lion's Share (broadcast on KPFA and bootlegged), although not on the subsequent tour that was documented on It's Too Late to Stop Now.  Later that year he also toured with Jesse Colin Young: you can hear 10/?/73 Paul's Mall in Boston (etree), 10/31/73 Portland ME (Wolfgang's), 11/19/73 Ultrasonic Studios in Hempstead, NY (etree),  and 12/15/73 Winterland (video + audio at Wolfgang's) (this was the same show, incidentally, where Jerry sat in with the NRPS on a Telecaster), and also played on Young's 1974 album Light Shine (again with Ozzie Ahlers).  He was from Brownsville in Brooklyn, and had also previously been a New York-based band called Holy Moses!! that released one album in 1971, which provides the one picture of Marty David that I could find:

but which of these men is Marty David?

Wednesday, December 6, 2023

12/6/73 at 50: ideal silences

 

There's a quote somewhere (I told the intern to go look it up; dunno where he got to, though) where Jerry says that a song ideally has a moment of pure silence in it. I'm pretty sure he was talking about Stella Blue, but this is a good one to file away next to other nuggets about the musical value of not playing anything.  Silence in Dark Star, or "Space" jams in general, isn't exactly a rare thing, so I don't want to make too much of it: but there are two very small ones in this Dark Star that are perfect, like pinholes into infinity, and I would like to acknowledge them.  It is the 50th anniversary of this behemoth piece of music, and almost 15 years ago I banged out an appreciation about it that needs no revision to sum up my feelings -- but in the years that followed, I have come to love one additional specific thing about it.  

In that original write-up, I mentioned a CD copy of this show that I was fortunate to get sometime between 1999-2001 that tracked the "tuning" and "intro" separate from the main Dark Star.  On that copy, Dark Star itself was tracked when Billy slides into his swinging cymbal beat as Jerry trickles in (@3:10 on the current fileset), but the "intro" began at 1:28 -- the moment where, to my ears, the tuning ends and the gentle but wholly intentional playing commences.  This magical little black dot of silence is what always bring to mind Tom Constanten's words about Dark Star being a thing that you enter, not a thing that you start playing.

The instrumental texture of Keith's Fender Rhodes and Phil's bass chord at 2 min is about a warm a sound as I've ever heard from the Dead (or, really, most anything this side of Jaco Pastorius' "Portrait of Tracy" or John Martyn's "Solid Air," but I digress)

If anything, I downplayed just how much Keith is playing in this.  I wouldn't call it overplaying (although it seems like 300% of what he usually plays), since I do feel that he is completely zoned in and doing exactly what ought to be happening.  But Bob seems a bit more reserved in this, and I suspect part of the reason is that Keith was just taking up more space than usual.  But go ahead Keith!  It sounds perfect.  After the scorched earth Phil/Jerry showdown that decimates the second half of this, who's feeling all perky and ready to get back on the road?  Keith is.

Then at 29:13, comes the second great silence: the only sound is Jerry just scraping a string very quietly, and there's another tiny pause -- debatably there are one or two more in the quiet passage that follows over the next minute.  Everyone is listening so hard and the tension is palpable.  And then things get very, very loud indeed.

Thursday, November 16, 2023

Ornette meets Healy

jazz tangent: one thing that has pulled me away from more consistent GD/JG listening (besides the ebb and flow of life) is my new hobby (calling it a "practice" makes me wince) of listening slowly to entire discographies of jazz greats who I want a more comprehensive overview of (so far, since you asked: Bobby Hutcherson, Yusef Lateef, and Sun Ra). I am working on Ornette Coleman right now.

In August 1968, Ornette was in the Bay Area with his band that included, controversially, his 12-year-old son Denardo on drums. His brief spell with Impulse! Records produced two live albums, the first of which, Ornette at 12, was recorded at the Greek Theater in Berkeley on Aug 11, 1968. Working that show was the GD's soundman Dan Healy -- the LP notes credit him as engineer (misspelled Healey), so I don't know if he was also mixing the live sound or just recording it (I suspect both, since I think Ornette produced this himself and just licensed the tapes to Impulse!).  There is more from this concert that remains unheard: it was billed as Ornette Coleman & Orchestra, since part of the SF Symphony joined for his composition "Sun Suite" (unrecorded, afaik, though that's the score on the Fillmore West poster below!), as did his former bandmate, trumpeter Bobby Bradford.  But the album only features performances by the quartet, so maybe the rest didn't go as well? I would sure love to hear it anyway.


The week before the Greek concert, Ornette's quartet played at the Fillmore West on Aug 5, apparently one of Bill Graham's only single-night/single-act bookings (the poster advertises the band as a quintet with Bradford, but he has confirmed that he was not there). A month earlier, Graham had taken over the venue formerly known as the Carousel Ballroom and renamed it.  Given that his capitalist ways marked the end of the hippie dream of a communal venue, the story goes that local musicians were briefly boycotting his new venture, and Rhoney Stanley recalled in her book that Jerry Garcia broke with principle only to go see Ornette play (thank you again, Light Into Ashes, for sharing that quote), although I can't help but notice that the Dead were booked at the Fillmore West on Aug 20-22 and again on Aug 30-Sept 1.

 

Healy had been working with the Dead from mid-1966 until mid-1968.  The exact reasons for his departure are unclear, but Corry Arnold speculates that, with Owsley returning to the GD organization, Healy may have sought fresh opportunities elsewhere. He worked with Quicksilver Messenger Service (as soundman, producer, and sometimes bassist!), played with his own band (the nearly forgotten Hoffman's Bycycle; Corry ibid.), and worked as a freelance engineer with some connection to Mercury Records (Corry again, also Light Into Ashes). And he didn't really fully cut ties with the Dead: he recorded them in Los Angeles on Aug 23-24 (interestingly, Quicksilver was booked those nights at the Fillmore West), using Warner Bros' fancy 8-track equipment, which was eventually released as Two From the Vault (some info), and evidently was in and out of the studio with them until his full-time return in 1972. But could Healy have also worked the Ornette show at the Fillmore West? It's certainly possible, but we'll never know unless someone asks him.

So what? So I think that's all pretty cool. Healy gave plenty of interviews, and I have only looked at a few of them. But I am guessing no one has asked him about this Ornette concert at the Greek. As far as I know, this is his one jazz recording credit, and, of course, it sounds good.  And Healy did, of course, mix for Ornette at least twice again: when he opened for the Dead and then sat in on 2/23/93, and again on 12/9/93.



Tuesday, November 7, 2023

11/7/93 until he organizes his best potential

wrong show, wrong band, great pic: 9/29/93 by Robbi Cohn
 

I have alluded to loving this overlooked show before, so for its 30th anniversary (at the eleventh hour, of course), I figured I would kick myself to write about Jerry Garcia again and say a few things about it.

In his great book Every Song Ever (2016), Ben Ratliff observed that being a deadhead -- specifically, collecting and listening to all these shows -- means "to practice long stretches of suspended judgment until the group organizes its best potential."

It is listening in the long view, with a basic understanding that the band’s music only significantly changes when the body gives out; otherwise, that music represents one long discourse, all of it intrinsically valuable.

If you enjoy Garcia's music from his final years, then surely this must be true for you, whether you think of it this way or not. It is certainly true for me, but not for reasons of "I was there!" nostalgia or relativism ("I guess Jerry sounds pretty good... for a guy who could barely keep his head up and was near the end"). There are things I hear Jerry play in 1993 that hold up as being as powerful as anything he ever did, although very different from his work as a younger man. In 1993, Garcia's best potential, as Ratliff would put it, was not the same potential as 1973 or 1983. Assessing the work of artists who rely on technical ability (like musicians) as they age can be challenging, given that our terms of engagement with their work often focuses on innovation or "development" rather than consolidation and refinement. Jazz critic Stanley Crouch argues this about Louis Armstrong:

As maturity increases, the speed of perception and experience becomes denser, fewer details are needed to recognize essential meanings. While the younger person is still contemplating, the old master has moved on to the next point, digesting through the shorthand made possible by the passage of many moons. In art, that law allows the individual gesture to take on greater resonance. The best of Louis Armstrong's work after fifty proves that his expressive ideas didn't reach their peak until he was nearly sixty. (Crouch, Considering Genius)

I realize I am wandering out on the thin ice of romanticizing "old Jerry," and let's be real: his physical health was in real deterioration by 1993, and his mental/emotional well-being was not being helped by, to use another shorthand, the Burden of Being Jerry. And yet, all those shortcomings aside, the old master Jerry does make some gestures here that do take on a greater resonance for me, and hopefully for you too.   

So: Nov 7, 1993 at the newly rechristened USAir Arena (formerly the Capitol Centre) of Landover, MD.  The JGB's final east coast tour, very close to the abrupt end of the great David Kemper era, but traveling in fine style nevertheless. From what I understand, this particular venue was known then for its particularly tough security, and the two circulating audience tapes both suffer from that.  I personally prefer the earlier unknown Schoeps source which to my ears is slightly more palatable than the tape made by the usually reliable Clay Brennecke (no fault of his own; he gets busted early on, sounds like he bribes his way out of a pickle, and gets the rest of the show, albeit with a bit more discretion, I'm sure)

  • Not much to say about the start of the first set, but ol' Jerry was saved more than once by the adage, "when the going gets tough, the tough slow down." And the first important thing that happens is the late-set Señor: my single favorite performance of this amazing song, thanks to its guitar solo. Find me a better one (official released included). Four choruses of perfection -- okay, then two more choruses of unnecessary but by no means bad extra stuff. Vocals have their rust spots and occasional brainfarts, but that's rarely on my rubric when he is playing so well. I suspend my judgment until the group organizes its best potential.  
  • Everybody Needs Somebody to Love.  I have more to say in general about Garcia's stripped-down arrangement of this already simple song (all good things), but by fall 93 it had turned into a behemoth, a slow-rolling tribal stomp, and a thing of glory. This is not quite the best that it got -- at the moment, I would nominate 11/3/93 for that (another post) -- but this is pretty damn near the top.  14 1/2 minutes of a giant ball of energy just rolling around and around and around the stadium.
  • The second set opens with another all-timer: show me a better The Way You Do the Things You Do. Another tune that warrants a more in-depth look sometime, it was performed in a straightforward Motown-goes-barband style for eight years, left the repertoire for six, then reappeared in 1990 with a reggae-ish sway, courtesy of Jahn Kahn's most memorable bassline and a gently spacey groove.  The end jam would swell and occasionally became ground for some inspiration to blossom, and this version is the epitome of that (although see also 11/18/93 for a sprawling 20+ version that is also a treasure).  Jerry grooves along, slides into some jazzy comping for a minute and a half, but never fully cedes to Melvin Seals. Instead, he builds tension by playing not much but teasingly just enough, finally eases back into more proper lead guitar, but the focus seems more rhythmic than melodic, and then finally lets all that tension boil over (@12:35ish) with some climactic fanning for about 40 seconds. This will be a very nice surprise if you primarily associate this tune with a few jammy minutes of light, bubbly grooviness.
  • Money Honey. Not quite a rarity, but not a setlist staple either, and my hunch is that it was generally a good sign when Jerry felt like belting this one out.  Again, not perfect lyrically, but he delivers a few choruses of divebomb blues with his claws out.
  • Knockin' On Heaven's Door. A semi-rarity; the only one of the tour, and only played three more times onstage in his life (once with the JGB, twice with the GD). You know how you feel about this song, and this version is lovely.
  • Don't Let Go.  All-timer? No. But damn good, I say. Appreciate how Jerry playfully sings way down looow in the final round of "hold me tight and don't let go"s, while Melvin mimics his vocal. Then he tears the heck out of the jam, brings it up to a nice climax, then collapses into lonesome space for a few minutes, the Hammond B3 framing Jerry's moaning in the moonlight, before he brings it back home. Not too many Don't Let Go's were ending in free space anymore (list forthcoming, hopefully?), so that's a nice touch. Overall: a mighty fine Don't Let Go.
  • Mississippi Moon.  A real rarity for the 90's, and the only one of the tour again. Again, there are some rust spots on the vocals and the turnarounds, but Jerry digs in for the solo, and then digs in again for a unusual(?) second solo after Melvin's featured spot (which was usually the piece's climax).
  • After all that, I wish that Tangled Up in Blue came crashing into the end of this set like a missile, but it does not. It's a little slow and maybe too carefully paced at first, but he gets the truck out on the highway and invites you to ride it out with him. He might be coasting a bit during the solos, but as the jam begins, he seems to pause for a breath, braces himself, and channels some that Leo energy into a regal final jam. There's nice energy bump just before the 11 min mark that gets us across the finish line, but it all sounds pretty good to me.

Best potential organized? I would say so, yes. One long discourse, all of it intrinsically valuable. So I will end, as I ought to, with a salute to the tapers.  Midway through Tangled, there's a moment when the high frequencies drop out, when (I assume) the mics are lowered and hidden. Then @6:45, the quality increases and, with a "whoo!" of relief, one taper hollers to the other, "the things we have to go through!"  Thank goodness you did!  Thank you tapers!

scan courtesy Fate Music/JGMF