By: David Schultz

The Eighties proved to be an awkward era. Not only did it give us the Safety dance, purple rain, luftballons, the moonwalk, Wang Chung and Terence Trent D’Arby, it’s the decade that gave us the phrase “Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto.” In addition to cringeworthy fashion statements like suits with pastel-colored T-shirts and teased, feathered hair for both men and women, the Eighties brought us into the computer age. In the arcades, we played Pac-Man and Missile Command and at home, we slowly converted our record collections to compact disc.

The emergence of MTV, which stressed an artist’s appearance as much as their talent, the widespread incorporation of synthesized and computer generated music and the initial growth of rap drove many established and iconic acts from the Sixties and Seventies into an identity crisis as they tried to keep up with the changing times. The Eighties may have served as the birthing ground for U2, R.E.M. and The Replacements but it also marked the time that the careers of many artists from the Woodstock generation went into a tailspin.

Since Oliver Stone has decided to bring Gordon Gekko, the decade’s archetype of amoral greed, into the modern day with Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps, it’s probably not a bad time to look back at the Eighties and see how it nearly dimmed some of the rock era’s brightest lights.

ERIC CLAPTON
By the Eighties, Clapton’s storied reputation as a blues-rock demigod had started to diminish as he battled drug and alcohol addiction. Where Slow Hand once dallied in the studio with the likes of Duane Allman, Steve Winwood and George Harrison, the Eighties saw him palling around with Phil Collins and releasing slickly produced albums like Behind The Sun and August. At his 80s nadir, Clapton found himself in heavy rotation on MTV with “It’s In The Way That You Use It,” his tie-in with The Color Of Money, and in Michelob commercials with his re-recorded version of “After Midnight.” Capitalizing on everyone’s need to replace their LPs with CDs, many artists had their greatest hits combined into comprehensive multi-disc box sets. Clapton’s Crossroads, which covered all aspects of his career, created the blueprint for such collections and reawakened interest in the master bluesman. Trading in the T-shirt and jeans that had become his stage wear in favor of dapper suits, Clapton stopped dabbling in 80s-style superficial blues-rock and once again found his muse.

GRATEFUL DEAD
Defying all logic, the Grateful Dead had a run of success on MTV. In 1987, The venerable jamband titans released In The Dark, easily their most accessible album and, in line with the times, made . . . shudder . . . a music video for its lead single “Touch Of Grey.” In between Peter Gabriel and Dire Straits videos, the shaggy manes of Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir played interchangeably with animatronic skeletons while Deadheads watched on with bemused horror. In line with the chorus of “Touch Of Grey,” the Dead survived the Eighties by persevering and simply outlasting the nonsense until it came full circle. Whatever fair-weather fans they attracted through their MTV exposure quickly fell to the wayside as the Dead remained on the road, paving the way for the modern jamband scene to flourish. Always a mighty live draw, the Dead toured regularly up until Jerry Garcia’s death in 1995. By that point, the brain cells in which Deadheads stored their memories of the Dead’s brief 80s flirtation with mainstream popularity had long been killed.

LOU REED
With classics like “Walk On The Wild Side” and “Street Hassle” a distant memory, the former leader of the Velvet Underground spent most of the Eighties churning out albums like Legendary Hearts and Mistrial, filled with formulaic, barely inspired three chord rock songs. Never the most harmonious singer, Reed got in into his head that he should be acknowledged as one of the originators of the burgeoning rap scene, insinuating as much on “The Original Wrapper.” At the end of the decade, Reed turned his razor-sharp intellect on two subjects on which no one would doubt his expertise, New York City and Andy Warhol. With the release of New York in 1989 and his collaboration the next year with John Cale on Songs For Drella, a eulogy for Warhol, their former mentor and patron, Reed found relevant topics to apply his blunt, streetwise poetry to, reemerging as one of America’s most prolific and outspoken songwriters. Like he had for the decades before, he continued to sort-of rap most of his lyrics but once Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch released “Wildside,” Reed seemed to lose all interest in drawing comparisons between himself and the world of hip hop.

GENESIS
Next to ZZ Top, there was no more unlikely MTV superstar than Phil Collins. Looking more lecherous old man than video icon, Collins worked ahead of the curve; his slick videos for “Sussudio” “Take Me Home” and “In The Air Tonight” defining the early 80s Miami Vice influenced video era. As a solo star, this was fine. However, as the de facto leader of Genesis, one of the titans of progressive rock, this influence resulted in the band that created The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway being represented by Spitting Image puppets on “Land Of Confusion” and hawking Michelob beer with “Tonight, Tonight, Tonight.” Unlike many of the other artists on this list, the Eighties didn’t almost kill Genesis, they put the band six feet under. After the unbearable We Can’t Dance, the band went dormant with Collins officially leaving in 1996, relegating them to a cult status amongst those who would flock in droves to see a reunion with Peter Gabriel. However, like all bands from the Seventies, there is always one word that generates gobs of cash: reunion. The 2007 Genesis reunion tour touched on their forgettable 80s success but wisely kept things focused on their pre-80s majesty.

DAVID BOWIE
David Bowie's descent into Eighties inanity didn’t take place during that decade – although some would be pressed to call shenanigans on “Blue Jean,” “China Doll” and his mincing prance with Mick Jagger on “Dancing In The Streets.” Rather, in 1997, Bowie engaged in the type of Wall Street chicanery that made Michael Milken the poster boy for Wall Street greed: junk bonds. Coming up with the novel idea of selling securities backed by royalties on his pre-1990 recordings, Bowie Bonds were initially greeted with optimism and an A3 rating. Coupling Bowie’s retirement from the stage with the digital revolution and its crippling effect on music sales in any medium, the lack of a sustainable interest in Bowie’s back catalog has resulted in the Bowie Bonds being continuously downgraded, reaching a level just a touch above junk bond status.

JETHRO TULL
When a band that’s made their career on English blues, sprawling progressive rock suites and flute-based epics becomes fascinated with the synthesizer, nothing good could result. In the case of Jethro Tull, nothing good did result. Instead of flirting with Bach compositions and mandolin solos from a prior century, Ian Anderson attempted to give the band a new wavish Eighties feel on albums like A, Under Wraps and their most Spinal Tappish effort, Broadsword And The Beast by including electric violins and decidedly non-rustic synthesizers. The extreme divergence from medieval acoustics and progressive rock digressions alienated all but the most loyal of fans. Tull came to its senses by the end of the decade but at that point it’s unclear if anyone was still paying attention. It surely baffled everyone when they won the inaugural Grammy for Best Hard Rock Album for the mostly acoustic Crest Of The Knave.

AEROSMITH
This is the band from the Seventies that proves to be the exception to the rule. Already in trouble at the start of the decade, the band was on the steep path to nostalgia tours and obscurity when Run DMC helped resurrect Aerosmith’s career with rock and rap music’s original mash-up, “Walk This Way.” Being associated with the groundbreaking rap trio and the emerging genre of music hardly hurt Aerosmith, nor did it do Run DMC any harm to get the rub from one of the hardest rocking bands of the previous decade. In the era before gangsta rap and Kanye West egos, a classic rock act reaching across the aisle in this fashion seemed more revolutionary than conciliatory or opportunistic. Once the singles from Permanent Vacation started to make their way into heavy rotation on MTV, Aerosmith became one of the first bands that actually was saved by the Eighties.

NEIL YOUNG
As if the success of Buffalo Springfield was an albatross hanging around his neck, Neil Young found himself a Vocoder and a synthesizer and let the world know what “Mr. Soul” would have sounded like if it had been recorded by robots. Embracing the new technology a bit too eagerly, Young released Trans, an album chock full of Eighties-style robotics and unlike anything Young had ever done before. Geffen Records, who released Trans, hated it so much, they skipped constructive criticism and sued him for making it. Young’s dabbling in computer rock was thankfully short lived but it sent him into a downward creative spiral and he spent the decade making the weakest music of his career, getting banned from MTV in the process for glibly mocking the network and its advertisers. Fortunately, the first Bush era awakened the rocker; when Young released Freedom and the incendiary “Rockin’ In The Free World,” the past decade faded blissfully into the ether and Young took his rightful spot as the flannel clad Godfather of Grunge.

THE WHO
The world’s loudest band presciently sat out the decade, saving the world from finding out what other synthesized epics Pete Townshend had in mind when he wrote “Eminence Front.” Instead, we got sappy fluff like “After The Fire” from Daltrey’s Under The Raging Moon and Townshend succumbing to the urge to rap on “Face The Face” and to the need to adapt The Iron Giant into a misfire of a concept album. To celebrate the 25th anniversary of Tommy, The Who reunited and embarked on the first of many, many reunion tours. Always a reliable draw, Townshend, Daltrey and, until his death in 2002, bassist John Entwistle, kept The Who’s legacy alive, waiting until the oughts to put out any new material bearing The Who’s mighty trademark. Daltrey’s voice may have lost its once-mighty power and Townshend battled tinnitus, but once they launch into “Won’t Get Fooled Again” or “Baba O’Riley,” people don’t seem to care, mainly cause Townshend remains one of the best guitarists alive.

ZZ TOP
In the Eighties, ZZ Top performed the nearly impossible task of transforming themselves from a gruff, rough-and-tumble Southern-rock trio into neo-lecherous, bearded purveyors of synthesized blues. It’s hard to begrudge them the success they found by reinventing themselves as it resuscitated their flagging career . . . but at what cost? Nowadays, when ZZ Top enters the conversation, it’s impossible to extricate the images of the three of them mysteriously appearing with a bevy of hot, leggy women to offer up the keys of their cherry red vintage Ford to some deserving soul. Beguiled by the synths, ZZ Top turned the blues into a cartoon wonderland, stripping the music’s back door man ethic of every ounce of its menace.

Happy Thanksgiving. The daily Earfuls will return after the holiday.

Labels: Aerosmith, David Bowie, Eric Clapton, Genesis, Grateful Dead, Jethro Tull, Lou Reed, Neil Young, The Who, ZZ Top

The Dead performed nearly a 4 hour set in Greensboro last night. The set list included them kicking off the show with an appropriate choice of "The Music Never Stopped" and closed out the show with an encore of "Samson and Delilah."

The night was filled with fan favorites "Shakedown Street", "Truckin'", "New Potato Caboose" and "Touch of Grey." Fans warmly welcomed Warren Haynes who stepped in on guitar for an irreplaceable Jerry Garcia. On the archives.org forum, NCStephen reports "Warren [paid] much respect and attention to Jerry's lead parts, and we could tell right from the first notes. Instead of warren playing his slide all night he started out with incredible wah wah lead jams in the first few tunes then kicked it into full gear with fresh clean and crisp leads."

If you didn't make it out you can enjoy much of it right here (click the play arrow below and hit pause for a few seconds to let it buffer) - enjoy!

Labels: Grateful Dead, Mp3s

Last night, The Dead kicked off a month long U.S. tour at the Greensboro Coliseum. Outside of their three free appetite-whetting performances in New York City and an appearance on yapfest known as The View, the North Carolina show is their first non-Obama fundraising show since 2004. No longer Grateful out of respect to Jerry Garcia, this incarnation of The Dead includes surviving members Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart as well as ubiquitous guitarist Warren Haynes and Ratdog keyboardist Jeff Chimenti.

Coinciding with the return of The Dead, Ben Ratliff of The New York Times has an interesting article that looks at the reconsideration being given to various periods of The Grateful Dead's career that has resulted from the widespread proliferation of high-quality recordings that have emerged over the last few years.

Labels: Grateful Dead

Tickets for The Dead's 2009 reunion tour went on sale yesterday through the band's Web site, www.dead.net. If a quick persual of the various Dead message boards is any indication, the greater Deadhead universe is ready to go back to days of mail order . . . and $22 tickets. As if the whining over ticket prices isn't bad enough - its been 13 years since Jerry Garcia died and it seems that way too many Deadheads haven't yet found profitable jobs - the Dead.net ticket processing system did a poor job of handling the increased traffic.

Seriously though, Deadheads having trouble with the Internet? Is anyone really surprised?

Labels: Grateful Dead

With the New Year comes official news of a "Grateful" Dead reunion tour. The Dead's 2009 lineup will consist of the surviving four original members, Phil Lesh, Bob Weir, Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann and be rounded out with Ratdog keyboardist Jeff Chimienti and, in line with his reputation as the hardest working man in rock roll, guitarist Warren Haynes.

Given the continual success of Ratdog and Phil Lesh & Friends' annual tours, The Dead should have no trouble filling the stadiums they are booked into for their Spring 09 run of shows. The tour kicks off April 12 at the Greensboro Coliseum in Greensboro, North Carolina and runs through May 10, where the tour will end with a show at the Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View, CA. Of note, on April 25, The Dead will return to Madison Square Garden for the first time since a 6 night run in October of 1994.

Tickets go on sale nationwide on January 23 with a pre-sale through dead.net commencing on January 13.

The Dead's offical tour page is here.

Labels: Grateful Dead

George W. Bush always used to call himself a uniter but it was Democratic nominee Barack Obama that served as the catalyst for The Allman Brothers Band and The Dead to join together for the Change Rocks fundraiser this past Monday at Penn State University. Although crossover potential was huge, the two jamband icons stayed on their respective sides of a reference-filled videotaped address from Obama (once elected, he reportedly "ain't wasting time no more") with the exception of Warren Haynes, who played full sets with both bands.

On a less political note, Bob Weir & Ratdog will team up with Phil Lesh & Friends at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium in San Francisco, CA for a pair of shows on December 30 and December 31. Fellow San Franciscan and current Friend Jackie Greene will open both shows with his solo band. With a 2009 Phish reunion tour becoming more of a reality, hopes are also high for The Dead to truck around the country once more.

Labels: Allman Brothers Band, Bob Weir, Grateful Dead, Jackie Greene, Phil Lesh, Ratdog

A little Sixties revivalism can never hurt a Democratic Presidential hopeful, can it? Although they aren't billing it as The Dead and The Allman Brothers, that's exactly what the crowd at the Bryce Jordan Center at Penn State University are going to get on October 13th as part of the Change Rocks benefit in support of Barack Obama. The tickets, which go on sale Friday at noon, are an amazingly reasonably $50 ($30 if you have a Penn State ID).

Now, if Led Zeppelin and The Who get together for John McCain, we've got ourselves a race.

Labels: Allman Brothers Band, Grateful Dead

San Francisco's Warfield Theater has played host to many storied moments in Grateful Dead history and Phil Lesh's recent five night run at the storied venue only added to the historic link between the venue and the band. For the first four nights, Lesh & Friends - Larry Campbell, Jackie Greene, Steve Molitz and John Molo - recreated the Grateful Dead's self-titled debut, Anthem Of The Sun, Aoxomoxoa, Live Dead, Workingman's Dead, American Beauty, Grateful Dead (Skullf**k) and Dead Set. As if the (practically) full-album sets weren't enough to whet the appetites of Deadheads everywhere, Bob Weir sat in for a healthy portion of the Dead/Anthem night and David Nelson joined the band for the Workingman's Dead/American Beauty evening.

Just when Lesh had everyone guessing which albums would be featured during the final night of the run, the bassist went off the board, abandoning the framework in favor of a 6 hour, 5 set marathon gig that featured a return appearance by Weir as well as Jeff Chimienti, Mark Karan and Steve Bluhm. If this doesn't get people excited about Lesh & Friends' upcoming summer tour then nothing will.

Labels: Grateful Dead, Phil Lesh

Labels: Grateful Dead, John Mellencamp

By: David Schultz

More than 25 years ago, John Mellencamp began his career under the name John Cougar, a name he claimed was foisted upon him in a calculated A&R move to boost album sales and increase radio airplay. Once he had achieved a modicum of success, Mellencamp secured the return of his true surname, spending the next decade releasing material as John Cougar Mellencamp. In 1991, Mellencamp finally shed the Cougar, seemingly regaining every ounce of his artistic integrity. Given Mellencamp's tireless efforts to rid his populist work of any corporate influence, the ultra-ubiquitous use of his latest single "Our Country" in conjunction with the promotion of the Chevy Silverado bears every indicia of "corporate sellout." Long gone are the days when PETA member Chrissie Hynde goes to a Gap outlet and knifes a bunch of leather jackets simply because the shopping mall mainstays requested her consent to use one of her songs in a Gap commercial.

To say that the profitable nature of the record business has skyrocketed since the days of Buddy Holly and "Rock Around The Clock" would be an understatement of gargantuan proportion. The evolution of the "music business" has oftentimes seen the focus placed more on business than music. Basic corporate concepts such as skillful marketing plans, profit maximization and good old Gordon Gekko greed, once inimical to the artistry of the music profession, are now commonplace. On one hand, debuting "Our Country" as a placard for the automotive industry could be considered good marketing, but it also qualifies as just another moment in the uncomfortable marriage between art and commerce . . . and not even one of the more egregious ones. What follows are the ten most severe instances of the artistic vision coming under attack by the corporate mindset.

10. Ed Sullivan Tells The Rolling Stones and The Doors To Keep It Clean

Given Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" at the 2004 Super Bowl, it seems almost quaint that CBS and Ed Sullivan once worried about suggestive lyrics being sung on The Ed Sullivan Show. In 1967, The Rolling Stones were slated to make an anxiously anticipated appearance on the legendary variety show and sing "Let's Spend The Night Together." Concerned that the lyrics, tame by today's standards, could prove offensive, CBS censors asked Mick Jagger to change the words. Under threats of being taken off the air if he sang the "offensive" lyric, Jagger complied, rolling his eyes while warbling "let's spend some 'time' together." [The BBC wasn't as prudish] Later that year, the Sullivan show made a similar request to another high-profile artist, but with much different results, Worried that the line, "Girl, we couldn't get much higher," from The Doors' "Light My Fire" promoted drug use, CBS asked The Doors to change the lyric. Playing live without a delay - ah, the trusting pre-wardrobe malfunction era - Jim Morrison got right up into the camera and, much to the dismay of CBSand Sullivan, not only delivered the line unedited, accentuated "higher." The network's crusade to protect tender sensibilities from suggestive rock and roll lyrics didn't succeed. In the aftermath, the two songs went on to be played on classic rock radio a few hundred thousand times without corrupting the nation's youth. However, the same Puritan attitudes exhibited by CBS and those that monitor and oversee network television persist today; Janet Jackson's left breast has not been seen in public since 2004 (at least not without a hand covering it) and the repercussions of her "wardrobe malfunction" are still being felt on network TV and commercial radio.

9. Sony Infects Its Customers' Computers In The Name Of Combating Illegal Copying

In 2005, according to the New York Attorney General, BMG Music placed XCP and MediaMax DRM copy restriction software on a number of CDs, including releases by Trey Anastasio and the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. The software installed its own CD playback software and prevented the music from being downloaded onto the purchaser's computer in an iPOD compatible format. While Sony portrayed their effort as an ideological blow against the illegal copying and exchanging of copyrighted music, it seemed more of a thumb in the nose to the increasingly popular proliferation of Apple's iTunes. In making sure that their programs went undisturbed and iPOD unfriendly, Sony installed cloaking software that not only rendered them undetectable, it interfered with the way Windows played compact discs, opened security holes that permitted viruses to enter the user's system and transmitted certain data to Sony/BMG from the user's computer. When the problems became known to Sony, they acted arrogantly and denied culpability, drawing the ire of Attorney Generals in New York and Massachusetts. By the time Sony was finished making sure no one publicly or privately duplicated their music, they ceased implementing the software, had to offer "patches" the fix the damage done to their customers' computers and faced a class action lawsuit.

8. The Fan Club Pre-Sale Goes Corporate

Many artists have made a practice of allowing registered members of their fan club to purchase tickets for their shows in advance of the general public. For most fan clubs, membership is free and takes only a minute to complete the online form. Savvy marketers that they are, The Rolling Stones were one of the first artists to take the concept one step further, charging a hefty membership fee for inclusion in their fan club. Other bands like The Who, U2 and recently The Police picked up on the practice, which amounts simply to a premium payment of usually $60 or more, for the right to buy advance tickets. Sad enough that bands found a new way to extract money from their fans' wallets, corporate marketers have recently latched on to this trick. For the recent Best Buy sponsored reunion of The Police, members of Best Buy's Rewards Program had the opportunity to purchase tickets even before The Police's fan club, whose membership fee is $100. Norah Jones' recent concert at the Theater at Madison Square Garden was practically sold out through the Target pre-sale by the time tickets were made available to the rest of her non-Target shopping fans. Corporate sponsorship has become an accepted practice within the touring world, but when purchasing preference of quality concert tickets becomes a Best Buy, Target or any other corporate benefit, it's the fans who will truly suffer.

7. The Grateful Dead Removes Their Soundboards From the Live Music Archives

Inherent to The Grateful Dead's mystique was their willingness to permit their fans to bootleg and trade their live shows. Long before other bands would recognize the benefits to be reaped from the free exchange of live music, The Dead created the model from which they would work. With the advent of the Live Music Archives at archive.org, Deadheads entered the digital age, flooding the site with multiple copies of nearly every Dead show ever played; all with the permission and consent of the venerable San Francisco band. The Grateful Dead were not the first band to change their mind about the availability of their shows on the Archives, but their about-face stung their fans the most.



Citing the detrimental effect on present and future archival CD and DVD releases, the Grateful Dead, upon the initiative of Bob Weir, Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart, revoked the consent that permitted the Archives to act as a conduit for the exchange of the Dead's shows, denying fans the opportunity to obtain the music for free so that it could be sold to them in the future. "When the music was given away for free to trade, the band was making so much money touring that the music was not as valuable to them," explained Marc Schiller, who assists the Dead with their online marketing. "Apple iTunes has made digital downloads a business." The Dead underestimated the angry, aggrieved response from their fans: like dire wolves they howled vociferously, adamantly pointing to Jerry Garcia's numerous statements that the music belonged to the fans. Bassist Phil Lesh even chimed in to express his bewilderment over the entire issue. Ultimately, a compromise was reached: fans would still be able to freely download shows recorded by their peers but the better-quality soundboard recordings would remain available as streaming audio only - that is, until the Dead decide to release the show commercially and remove it from circulation.

6. John Fogerty Gets Sued For Plagiarizing Himself

In 1985, John Fogerty, the most identifiable member of Creedence Clearwater Revival, released Centerfield, the album that marked the high-water mark of his post-Creedence recording career. As Fogerty had assigned the copyrights to his CCR material to Saul Zaentz' Fantasy Records as part of a deal to get out of his contract, he was loathe to play his old material lest he generate royalties for Zaentz, a man he despised. Once Centerfield, which contained the scathingly derogatory "Zanz Can't Dance" (ultimately changed to "Vanz Kant Danz"), became a certified hit for Warner Bros., Zaenz retaliated as only a scorned corporate mogul can. In a fit of pique, Zaentz sued Fogerty for infringing the copyrights he held on Fogerty's Creedence Clearwater Revival material. Claiming that Fogerty's hit single "Old Man Down The Road" sounded too similar to Creedence's "Run Through The Jungle," Fantasy Records sued Fogerty, marking the first time in history that a label sued a musician for sounding like themselves. Although the Court declined to set a precedent that a musician cannot plagiarize from himself, Fogerty did win at trial. With guitar in hand, Fogerty took the witness stand and took the jury through the songwriting process of each song, showing that a musician can have an archetypal sound without borrowing from past successes. As Fogerty hadn't played Creedence songs in years, seats for the gallery were filled for his performance/testimony. "I was accused of ripping off myself," Fogerty later marveled. "The little boy in me envisions the day I'll actually segue from 'Old Man' right into 'Run Through the Jungle.'"

5. EMI Sees Things In Black And White – Not Grey

Before DJ Danger Mouse became a household name as the skinnier half of Gnarls Barkley, he stood poised to become a highly publicized defendant to a copyright infringement suit at the hands of EMI. Mixing Jay-Z's raps from The Black Album with musical snippets from The Beatles' White Album, Danger Mouse, nee Brian Joseph Burton, created the cleverly-named The Grey Album. Danger Mouse pressed only 3000 copies: none of which he sold, giving them away to his friends instead. However, in the age of the Internet, The Grey Album became a digital success story with copies being downloaded in record numbers. By exposing Beatles fans to Jay-Z and vice versa, Danger Mouse's 2004 venture transcended the lines that usually bracket musical genres, creating an interpretive work to be enjoyed by everyone . . . except EMI Records. While Sony Music/ATV Publishing, a venture between Sony Music and Michael Jackson, own the publishing side of The Beatles catalog, EMI controls The Beatles' sound recordings on behalf of Capitol Records, Inc. At the peak of The Grey Album's success, the hyper-vigilant EMI sent cease-and-desist letters to Danger Mouse and independent retail outlets carrying the album, effectively ceasing distribution of one of rock's most inventive musical works. The concept of reworking Beatles music and vocals in fresh combinations wouldn't be forgotten though. Two years later, EMI would release Love, a recombination of Beatles music overseen by producer George Martin and his son Giles.

4. Ticketmaster Crushes Pearl Jam

At the apex of their early 90s success, Pearl Jam got the bizarre notion in their head that tickets prices for their shows should be kept reasonable, somewhere around $20. Raining on the grunge rockers parade, Ticketmaster's service charges rendered such a dream relatively impossible. When Ticketmaster proved to be killjoy, remaining inflexible on Pearl Jam's demands that they soften their policies on excessive service fees, Pearl Jam refused to play any arena that sold tickets through Ticketmaster. Quickly, they learned that practically every arena in the United States had an exclusive ticket sales agreement with Ticketmaster and that the corporate behemoth threatened lawsuits against any promoter or arena that breached it by using another distributor. Left with no method of selling tickets, Pearl Jam cancelled their 1994 summer tour and brought an antitrust suit alleging that Ticketmaster used a monopolistic domination of the ticket distribution industry to secure a near 30% markup on tickets sales. In the band's view, Ticketmaster was taking unfair advantage of adolescent passion while unreasonably exploiting a marketplace in which they had no competition. Pearl Jam may have won a fleeting battle when Jeff Ament and Stone Gossard testified before Congress but ultimately Ticketmaster would win the war. By 1995, Congress decided against further investigating Ticketmaster's business practices and Pearl Jam's antitrust lawsuit proved unsuccessful. In 1998, heeding the complaints of their fans, who had difficulty acquiring tickets through alternative distributors, the grunge godfathers returned to Ticketmaster arenas. A true victory in every sense of the word for Ticketmaster, their service charges have doubled since the conflict ended.

3. Geffen Sues Neil Young For Not Sounding Like Neil Young

In 1983, David Geffen enticed Neil Young to sign with Geffen Records for considerably less money than Shakey was being offered elsewhere. The incentive that brought Young into Geffen's fold was the assurance that he could make whatever records he wanted without commercial restraint. Right off the bat, Young explored the new found territories of his freedom, testing the patience of his new label by experimenting with computer generated synth-rock and recording Trans, which gave the world an opportunity to hear what might have happened had "Mr. Soul" been recorded by robots. For his next effort, Young recorded Everybody's Rockin', an album of middling Fifties-style rockabilly tunes. Despite the fact that Young was exerting the exact creative freedom promised to him, Geffen wondered exactly they were getting out of their deal and sued Young for making "uncharacteristic music with no chance of commercial success." Even though Trans and Everybody's Rockin' peaked respectively at #19 and #46 on Billboard's album charts, Geffen seemed miffed that they didn't sound like Harvest or Tonight's The Night and demanded the return of $3 million dollars advanced to Young. In response, Young countersued for $21 million, the value of the entire deal. Although the matter ultimately settled, Geffen Records lost some credibility as a label with a commitment to fostering artistic creativity. Backtracking from the allegations of the suit, Geffen later tried to justify it, "The truth is I fought with [Young] because I wanted him to do better work."

2. The "Special Edition" CD

When music fans worldwide embraced compact disc technology in the Eighties, record companies salivated over the ability to sell them music they already owned, albeit in a higher-quality medium. Over the past 25 years, practically every major, minor and obscure album has been released on CD, leaving the labels with the quandary of having to come up with new music for the public to purchase. From this dilemma sprung the insidious creation of the "special edition" CD. Relying on fans' obsession to own the highest quality version of their favorite album, labels "remastered" them, tacked on a couple outtakes and re-released it in an effort to seek an additional $13.99. Already purchased Aqualung on CD? Well, too bad, because now you missed out on the "special edition" containing an interview with Ian Anderson and alternate versions of three songs off their earlier albums. The practice has pervaded practically any new re-issue. For example, although long available on CD, Arista re-released Patti Smith's Horses as a remastered special edition containing one solitary bonus track ("My Generation") and a "legacy edition" containing a second disc with a live performance of Horses. While nicely packaged and presented, the practice smacks of charging full price for an already available product with little fresh material. The practice has spread to Greatest Hits reissues as well. What better way to boost sales for Aerosmith's fourth Greatest Hits collection than to add on a couple rushed together new songs? Even when the re-issue does it right, like the "special edition" of Bruce Springsteen's Born To Run, the labels use the bona fide extras (e.g. concert footage, classic photos and copious liner notes) as an excuse to obscenely jack up the price.

1. Woodstock 99

Raping their own legacy and sinking to deplorable depths of capitalistic corporate behavior, Woodstock's organizers tried one last time to milk a dollar out of 3 more days of peace love and music. To counteract the storied legions of festival-goers who crashed the gates at the original Bethel, NY concert and its 1994 Saugerties, NY sequel, Woodstock 99 took place at the well-defended Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome, NY. The fenced in, concrete covered space not only kept anyone without a $150 ticket (a steep price at that time) outside the gates, it also trapped in the 90 degree heat. Bringing life to the grizzly yet surefire marketing concept of selling water in the desert, the festival's organizers were more than happy to hydrate the sweltering fans - for $6 a bottle. Contrary to the spirit of brotherhood fostered at the original Woodstock, everything at Woodstock 99 was for sale, with corporate tents and ATMs set up throughout the grounds. By Sunday night, the breaking point had been reached. Limp Bizkit's "Break Stuff" seemed to inspire many in the crowd to recklessness and by the time the Red Hot Chili Peppers launched into Jimi Hendrix' "Fire," rowdy, lawless fans had attacked numerous booths, ruined a great deal of merchandise and destroyed the Woodstock myth beyond repair. Woodstock 99's desire to wring every last cent out of their franchise, to the point of turning the crowd into a dehydrated, captive mass of marketing targets for food, water and merchandise, created the circumstances that led to the perfect storm of revolt against the "noble" corporate goal of maximizing profits at the expenses of the most communal, anti-commercial festival in rock and roll history.

Labels: Beatles, Creedence Clearwater Revival, DJ Danger Mouse, Grateful Dead, Jay-Z, John Fogerty, Lists, Neil Young, Pearl Jam, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Woodstock

By: David Schultz

Trey Anastasio, Mike Gordon, Marco Benevento and Joe Russo Join Lesh For A Jamming Night On Long Island

While Deadheads worldwide prepare to honor the memory of Jerry Garcia on the 11th anniversary of his passing, Phil Lesh & Friends, the eponymously named band led by the Dead's bassist, and Ratdog, guitarist Bob Weir's longtime band, are doing more than simply keeping the Grateful Dead's legacy alive; they are adding a satisfying afterword to the band's storied career. Despite the lack of any significant new material since Garcia's death, both Lesh and Weir have proven to be consistently successful touring attractions by using the same simple, battle tested formula: play Grateful Dead songs for Grateful Dead fans. The old fans still turn out in droves but it's the new fans, most too young to have experienced the Dead in their prime, if at all, that are keeping this franchise afloat. This past week, both Lesh and Weir brought their respective "second acts" to New York: Phil & Friends playing an outdoor show on the Long Island Sound at the Nikon at Jones Beach Theater in Wantagh, New York; Weir bringing Ratdog to New York City's world-famous Radio City Music Hall.

Since gathering his friends around him, Lesh's Friends have included musicians of All-Star proportion, including such notable names as Steve Kimock, Warren Haynes, Derek Trucks, Trey Anastasio, Mike Gordon, Al Schnier and current Lesh fave Ryan Adams. His current group of Friends is comprised of musician's musicians: singer Joan Osborne, guitarist Larry Campbell, keyboardist Rob Barraco, pedal steel guitarist Barry Sless, drummer John Molo and saxophonist Greg Osby. Osborne may be Phil's most recognizable Friend, having had a moderately successful solo career highlighted by the 1995 radio success of "One Of Us." The versatile and multi-talented Campbell handles lead guitar duties, coming to the Dead bassist's side after spending much of the past decade touring with Bob Dylan. Campbell, one of the newer members of the band, joins longtime Friends Barraco, Sless and Molo. Veteran saxophonist Greg Osby rounds out Phil's latest batch of acquaintances, braving the often troublesome brass-unfriendly winds of Jones Beach. As Phish's Trey Anastasio and Mike Gordon and the Benevento/Russo Duo (unofficially referred to as G.R.A.B.) have been opening a good number of Phil & Friends' summer shows, Anastasio, a former Friend himself, has been regularly joining in the fun, usually replacing Sless during the second set. For their Jones Beach show, Anastasio did not disappoint: without fanfare, he returned for the second set to the unabashed delight of the crowd.

Even though his name is on the marquee, Lesh hardly conveys a sense of superiority or entitlement because the songs on the setlist are primarily Grateful Dead chestnuts. Instead, he disperses the leads of the various songs, smartly matching each Friend to the proper song: Barraco's voice perfectly suited the evening-opening "Playing In the Band" and the encore of "U.S. Blues;" Larry Campbell handled vocals and fronted the band on an extended run through "Big River" and Osby replaces the distinctive guitar runs of "China Cat Sunflower" with weighty saxophone licks. When not dancing sultrily along with the music, Osborne delivered bluesy vocals, standing out on a lengthy trip through "Stella Blue." Even Anastasio got into the act, his voice and guitar a perfect match for second set's opening couplet of "Scarlet Begonias" and "Fire On The Mountain."

In 2005, when Lesh co-hosted the Jammy Awards, he joined temperamental guitarist Ryan Adams for a sterling performance of "Wharf Rat" and "Bird Song." Since then, whether present or not, Lesh has incorporated an Adams song into most of his shows. On this temperate evening at Jones Beach, he included Adams' Cold Roses track "Let It Ride." In contrast to the crisp first set, Lesh & Friends' second set consisted of spacey, drawn-out instrumentals. The effect may not have been entirely intentional: too often, Lesh seemed to be singing without realizing that his voice wasn't making it to the audience. When Lesh's microphone did work, he struggled with the words to "Dark Star" and "The Other One," replacing the ones he forgot with a sheepish grin that brought laughter from the crowd.

Admirably, Lesh and Weir are doing more than just fostering interest in the continually thriving Deadhead scene: having inspired numerous other bands with their psychedelic improvisational live performances, the two are exposing their fans to bands and musicians that are carrying on the Grateful Dead tradition. While Lesh pairs up with Anastasio, Gordon and The Duo, String Cheese Incident, fronted by the bluegrass loving Bill Nershi, will receive equal billing with Weir's Ratdog. The cross-pollination of the Dead's older fans with Phish's and String Cheese's younger fans has resulted in exceptionally full and wide-ranging evenings of music. In contrast to String Cheese, G.R.A.B. comes with a more complex subplot. Similar to how Lesh and Weir have moved forward in the post-Dead universe, G.R.A.B. have been drawing interest as an intriguing chapter in the ever-developing post-Phish saga. This episode: how will the Phish duo interact with the Duo?

Their lengthy opening set at Jones Beach encompassed the balmy early evening, consisting of a nice mix of Anastasio's solo material, a couple Gordon compositions, a Benevento/Russo Duo tune (the gorgeous "Something For Rockets") and a pair of wonderfully eclectic covers. The sharing endemic to the jamband scene spread comprehensively throughout the foursome: Anastasio and Gordon's fame, experience and recognition providing the rub to the Duo; Benevento and Russo's freshness, youth and innovative energy spreading to the veteran musicians. At 5:00, while most of the audience obliviously tailgated or remained stuck in the Friday evening morass known as the Long Island Expressway, The Duo performed an all-too-brief opening set focusing primarily on material from their new album Play, Pause, Stop. Those who made it into the amphitheatre early quickly learned why Benevento, an inventive keyboard player, and Russo, a masterful drummer, have drawn the raves they have received, including the 2005 Jammy Award for New Groove Of The Year. Strutting their estimable stuff much earlier in the afternoon freed the Duo to fill less prominent but still significant supporting roles for Anastasio and Gordon.

Even though G.R.A.B. had a couple weeks together under their belt, they were still finding their comfort zone with each other. Benevento and Russo are adept at predicting what directions each will go in; obviously, so are Anastasio and Gordon. As a foursome, they seem to be in the final stages of finding a true comfort zone, resulting in some wandering instrumental interludes. On the opener, "Plasma," they engaged in some traditional jamming; offering more distinctly Phishy jamming later in the set on "Suskind Hotel" and "Dragonfly." The shrewdness of the group's decision to cover Wings' "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey," which segued nicely into Stealers Wheel's "Stuck In The Middle With You," wasn't matched by the actual performance; a trait shared by a number of Phish's covers (e.g. "Tubthumping," "Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It"). The reaction of the audience to the familiar tunes, especially Gerry Rafferty's Reservoir Dogs classic, indicated that they appreciated the effort. In closing with Anastasio's "Shine," G.R.A.B. finished on the highest of notes, even if the bespectacled singer's voice seemed to give out during the set closer.

Lesh & Friends, along with Ratdog, are continuing a legacy that began in the sixties, extending their reach to a newer generation of fans. Towards the end of Lesh's show, he guided the band into an old Dead set-closing standard, a percussion-heavy, thumping version of "Not Fade Away." The classic Buddy Holly song seemed sharply poignant: anyone boating on the Sound that night surely heard the honest and heartfelt exhortation of Deadheads, both young and old, joyously proclaiming a truth that has become self-evident over these many years: "No, our love will not fade away."

Labels: Benevento/Russo Duo, Bill Nershi, Bob Weir, Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia, Joe Russo, Marco Benevento, Mike Gordon, Phil Lesh, Ratdog, Trey Anastasio

by Jim McCoy
All Photos by Susana Millman.



The mellow sound of a fingerpicked acoustic guitar exits from the speakers, over which a voice sings of picking up a guitar and improvising a melody not simply for its own sake, but for the cold comfort that is provided as the artist thinks about an unnamed person and an ambiguous "Rosebud." Upon a casual listen, the lyrics could easily be interpreted as a forlorn cry to a distant love, a love long passed and faded in the mind and heart of its subject. The jilted lover responds by crafting a ballad that is complimented expertly by haunting steel guitar lines that fade in and around the track.

Deadheads immediately knew that this track appearing on the second disc of Ryan Adams' Cold Roses (Lost Highway, 2005) was not crafted about a love lost, but music lost; the principal subject of the ballad was not a woman, but an inanimate object- specifically, a guitar crafted in 1990 by California luthier Doug Irwin for Jerry Garcia. The guitar - dubbed 'Rosebud' after an inlay of a female skeleton carrying an un-bloomed rose and flashing an ossified peace sign that appeared on the guitar's ebony cover plate - served as Garcia's primary stage instrument upon its completion. (Although it was eventually cast aside in favor of the Stephen Cripe-constructed Lightning Bolt during August 1993, it was Rosebud that was played at the last Grateful Dead show at Chicago's Soldier Field on July 9, 1995.)

Music lovers and musicians alike are often puzzled by the apotheosis of Garcia by his legion of fans. His guitar playing is neither flashy nor particularly speedy; he often dismissed the use of distortion, a rock staple for guitar players since the Sixties; and, his untrained voice did not possess the qualities typically associated with the rock frontmen regularly strutting their stuff in cavernous basketball arenas during Garcia's time. Nevertheless, Garcia himself was able to sell out these very same venues - sans his Grateful Dead bandmates - beginning in the late 1980’s.

So exactly what is it, then, that marks Garcia as a rock 'n roll icon? It would be too simplistic - and ignorant - to dismiss his popularity as a result of the drug-induced delusions of a bunch of relics from the Summer of Love era. After all, how many relics (and curious onlookers) are there such that the Grateful Dead were able to fill 100,000 seat racetracks and 60,000 seat stadiums during summer tours in the Seventies and Nineties, respectively? There was certainly something that others were seeing that went far, far beyond a bunch of hippies engaging in reefer madness as part of an all-out effort to avoid the trappings of a regular life and its attendant responsibilities.

There really is no one stock answer to the Garcia question; however, one should be quick to recognize that Garcia himself constituted a tripartite musical order that was one part soulful singer, one part superior songwriter (with lyricist and chum Robert Hunter) and one part uncanny guitar player. It is rare for one person to truly be gifted in but one of these areas- let alone all three. (John Lennon, of course, also immediately comes to mind- which shows Garcia to be in pretty elite company.)

For comparison, imagine Bob Dylan - or Ray LaMontagne, to use a more recent example -and augmenting their considerable talents with the additional capability of laying down a remarkable, memorable and precise lead break between verses of one of their most moving ballads. Now imagine further that these lead guitar lines are never played the exactly same way again - occasionally for the worse, usually consistent, and sometimes so creatively and perfectly so as to be sublime - in city upon city, night after night.

But the ability to improvise effectively - the most cherished, most sought-after skill among serious musicians - isn't the only facet of Garcia's playing that separates him from others in the rock realm. Garcia also was able to meld an understanding of music theory with his ability to adeptly move his pick and fingers around the instrument. Most rock guitar players - from the Sixties through today - simply chose one blues or pentatonic scale and let it rip over all of a song’s chord changes, playing the same notes scrambled in different patterns throughout the guitar's neck. Garcia, in contrast, often considered each chord or series of chords in a certain progression as a separate and distinct entity, using a combination of different scales and arpeggios to outline the changes in the same way that a jazz musician would approach the instrument. A track like Dark Star from 1969's Live Dead- even with the remarkable contributions from the other musicians- is nonetheless likely reduced to an inconsistent, acid-drenched and pedestrian effort afforded only cult status if not driven by Garcia's modal guitar lines. Instead, his lyrical, creative playing elevates it to an example of transcendental psychedelia that must be heard to be believed.

It is not just the foundations of psychedelic music that were shaken by Garcia's approach, for he applied his knowledge to the Dead's more conventional music as well. The compilation Without a Net, culled from multitrack tapes from the Dead's 1989 and 1990 tours before keyboardist Brent Mydland's death, shows that Garcia continued to progress throughout his career rather than lazily drifting off into dinosaur status. Garcia's lead guitar fluidly outlines the chord changes between the verses of Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo, making somewhat tricky rock improvisations seem absolutely effortless. Similarly, Garcia adds some off-the-cuff- yet scintillating - jazzy guitar passages in between guest Branford Marsalis' saxophone lines as Eyes of the World nears its conclusion. Garcia's continued progress is even more remarkable when one considers that Garcia essentially had to relearn the instrument following a diabetic coma that almost killed him in 1986.

Those who are quick to dismiss Garcia as a guitar hero often lack an appreciation as to what truly makes him a special guitar player. Undoubtedly, some people just prefer other sounds - and one cannot be faulted for that. Garcia himself once commented during an interview with Rolling Stone that the Grateful Dead was like licorice - some people enjoy it, while others absolutely hate it. But others who seek to diminish- or even attack- Garcia's contributions to the guitar fail to see what separates him from the rest of the lot. Speed and large amounts of overdrive were the hallmarks of guitar virtuosity during the Eighties and Nineties, neither of which were ever espoused by Garcia. His lead playing was unique - not just because he played with a clean, clear tone and typically rejected distortion, but because he had his own voice on the instrument that was immediately recognizable. The lead break on the studio version Unbroken Chain contained on From the Mars Hotel provides such an example. And for those who are intimately familiar with the work of Grateful Dead associate Bruce Hornsby, was there any doubt that it was JG laying down those (admittedly overdriven) solos on Across the River and Cruise Control?

Garcia, of course, is not the only guitar player with sonic trademarks - Clapton, Page, Hendrix, Van Halen and even latter-day blazers like Satriani and Vai all possess tones, phrasing and riffs that make them uniquely identifiable even by those music lovers bordering on tone deafness. But when Garcia was on, it seemed like he always played the right note - yet it would be the note that was often completely unexpected. Witness Garcia's uncanny pedal steel playing on the Crosby, Stills & Nash hit Teach Your Children - especially at the song's conclusion, when Garcia suspends a haunting, high-pitched tone before picking, pedaling and sliding into some outro licks.

Binding Garcia's talents together was an air of authenticity that surrounded his work. Part of it came from his roots as a banjo player and his love for bluegrass, but much of it probably came from the man himself. Garcia was blessed with "soul," however un-definable that term may prove to be. It's the reason why Garcia doesn't sound the least bit out of place during a bluegrass foray with the Jerry Garcia Acoustic Band. It doesn't sound like Jerry Garcia playing bluegrass music - it is bluegrass music, and it just so happens to be the lead guitar icon of the Grateful Dead performing it.

It is this last point that is lost on the devotees of other jam bands that have proliferated in the wake of the passing of the Grateful Dead. Trey Anastasio is an absolutely fantastic guitar player, but one does not get the impression that he is reaching back into the very core of American music as he plays, serving as a medium as he projects the ghosts of musical days gone by into the audience. Certainly, no individual musician can be faulted for this. Garcia is unique precisely because his music possesses a quality which proves elusive to 99% of the people that ever pick up their instrument.

Despite all the rightful praise that can be pushed Garcia's way, it would be naïve- and completely erroneous- to suggest that he constantly approached perfection as a musician. Garcia was fully human, and various CDs, downloads and good ol' fashioned tapes reveal that he would occasionally miss a note or phrase here and there on even his most brilliant nights. (The end of one of his several spectacular solos on the version of Desolation Row on the Downhill From Here DVD provides such an example- with the camera squarely placed on Garcia's fingers as he briefly stumbles at the end of an otherwise well-played gem.) Ironically, this humanizing aspect to Garcia's playing is what endeared him to many. It really wasn't a robot or a superhuman guitar slinger up there on stage; he was an immense talent, but also like the rest of us in some small way as Garcia made some of the same mistakes that you make riffing in your basement or local watering hole.

Garcia's declining heath and unfortunate addiction to a particularly potent form of heroin took much away from many performances during the last few years of his life. Jerry became too human right before the eyes of many Deadheads. Garcia's fingers sometimes struggled and fumbled their way around the guitar neck, and more intricate passages such as the diminished arpeggios in Slipknot! became a painful- even tragic- listen at times. The studio brilliance that appeared on Unbroken Chain decades earlier did not surface on the live versions of the song when it finally debuted in 1995; Garcia, despite his guitar abilities continuing to progress through the first few tours of the Nineties, was unable (or simply unwilling) to outline the chord changes of the jazzy lead break with his formerly adept and inspired playing. On many solos- perhaps due to carpal tunnel syndrome, a loss of sensitivity in his fingertips, malaise, or just plain boredom - Jerry would tend to utilize notes that were a half-step away from his intended targets, thus creating an unintended dissonance where there was formerly a lyrical consonance.

There were still moments and shows that were indeed sublime- the version of Visions of Johanna from the 1995 Spectrum run and many shows during October 1994 come to mind- but these moments were certainly fewer and farther between. These moments, however, are still worth seeking out- to entirely dismiss the years 1993-1995 would deprive a listener of some quality music.

Garcia's vocals unfortunately followed the same sad path in the later years. He often mumbled his way through rock numbers that the Dead had been performing regularly for decades. Garcia himself certainly recognized this- anyone who plays at a high level for so long must- but the tapes suggest that Garcia may have tried to compensate by taking the Dead's mournful ballads to new levels with his singing voice as his guitar voice and vocal prowess on other numbers diminished. See So Many Roads- perhaps the lone highlight from the final Grateful Dead performance at Soldier Field- for an example of Garcia crying to the Lord on vocals and mustering what remains of his guitar ability on a night when he otherwise fell flat. Garcia died exactly one month later.

To dwell on Jerry Garcia's shortcomings, however, would certainly be shortsighted. The bulk of his enormous creative output between 1965 and 1995 is original, inspired and provides an shining example of a musician with a unique approach to his craft - and there will likely never be another. Garcia was born of a love of music that is long forgotten in many circles, at a time when LSD experiments were being conducted at Stanford University and a social movement was sweeping San Francisco and the rest of the nation. And above all, he was supremely talented, soulful and authentic. These elements and abilities may never again converge in one place at one time and in one person. If they should, then we will be blessed to have witnessed it. But for now, we should consider ourselves lucky to have on discs, hard drives and cassette tapes what now remains of Garcia's musical legacy.

Labels: Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia

Rhino Records is releasing previously unheard recordings by The Jerry Garcia Band. The three disc live set, titled "After Midnight," is a recording of a concert set that includes covers of Jimmy Cliff's "The Harder They Come," The Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby," and the Bob Dylan classics "Simple Twist Of Fate" and "Knockin' On Heaven's Door." The concert took place in 1980 at Kean College in Union, New Jersey.

Labels: Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia