Tag Archives: Jerry Garcia

FILE--Grateful Dead's singer Jerry Garcia is shown performing in this June 30, 1995, file photo in Pittsburgh. A lawsuit over five of Garcia's prized guitars, bequeathed to Doug Irwin who built the instruments for Garcia, will be allowed to proceed, a Marin County Superior Court judge said in a tentative ruling Wednesday, June 20, 2001 in San Rafael, Calif. (AP Photo/The Register-Herald, Chris Hancock, file)

Dear Jerry,

I feel like an asshole writing you this letter, especially since Robert Hunter wrote you one 19 years ago and he was your partner in creating the entire soundscape of our past, present and future lives. Nobody comes close to Mr. Hunter when it comes to writing and besides that, the two of you were really tight. Me, I’m just another nobody out there that was having my life transformed by a movement that didn’t know I existed. I guess you knew we existed… Shit, we followed you everywhere. When you played, you looked at us like we mattered and an instant like that with you lasts a lifetime for people like us…

Time goes pretty fast down here on earth except for when it goes kinda slow. My kids seem to grow up pretty fast except it only feels that way when we’re blowing out candles. Every birthday makes ya think, “Time sure flies.” Strange how the days and weeks that make up those years seem to go really slow most of the time. I’ve felt that way when I reflect on your life. The days we had with you felt like they would last forever until we abruptly realized they wouldn’t. We all remember exactly where we were when we heard the news… It’s impossible to forget… I know my Dad passed away in April but I still have a hard time with the date… August 9th I could never forget… I imagine if folks are allowed to have human emotions like being pissed off up there, My dad is still probably a little pissed off about that. Hope you two have had a chance to play together by now, he’s an amazing Sax Player. Grandpa was a professional piano player but, Lord knows you don’t have any shortage of them up there… I’ve often thought of what God’s singing voice might be like. I’m sure it’s fantastic but I still bet you can carry a tune much better. It takes surviving some sin to sing a song like you can sing em.

When I think of the things I’d like to say, it’s such a mixture of Thank You and I’m sorry. I don’t know which to start with and I’m sure the Thank You list is most of the same shit you heard a million times during your life. You always seemed to be the type to take a compliment as awkwardly as possible. I think we all like hearing nice things about ourselves but I also understand how awkward admiration can feel for some. It would feel strange to endlessly thank you for what came as natural to you as walking down the street does for me. I could only imagine taking a walk around the neighborhood and having all the folks that live around me come outside and say shit like, “Awesome Walking Dean!!!” or “Your walking changed my life!!!”, “I’ve been watching you walk since 78!”. I’m sure I’d attempt to be as cordial as possible but I’d feel a little strange about it all.

When I think of all the ways I could apologize, I imagine I was as tiny of a part of my apologies as any… I’m sorry that we never wanted to give you a fuckin break… I’m sorry that the sound of your song became as much of a drug to me as any of the drugs I had to kick in the past. I’m sorry that we made it really hard for you to have any peace or anonymity. I guess that comes with the gift though. I’ve said before that size of the bucket that holds your gifts usually comes with a bucket of the same size that holds your burdens. If not burdens, certainly temptations. It seems like the individual that holds those buckets in life is typically more acquainted with the burdens than they are the gifts and when they look at themselves, would be much quicker to dismiss the size of the gifts based on intimately knowing their own trials and tribulations. You came across that way and I think it caused everyone to love you more. There’s something charming about an individual that possesses such a unique gift that presents themselves as if it’s not that big of a deal at all. More shit you’ve probably heard a million times before…

There’s a bunch of guys down here that try to do what you did all those years. Most folks like them much better than I do. I’ve yet to hear anything close. They play your stuff and try to act the part but Mickey said he’d rather drink 5 gallons of Clorox than play with them and I tend to agree with him. My 3 year old sometimes acts like he’s Spiderman and while he’s really adorable and committed to the role, he’s not even close to being Spiderman. That reminds me of most of the guys that think they can play your role. Folks talk about taking the music further but I’m not sure how that’s possible when there hasn’t been a single tune that’s been played without you that has sounded better or gone further than a single one with you. I think it’s more appropriate to have a desire to be sure the songs live forever and I admire the musicians that are doing that but I’ve yet to hear a song be taken “further”. The music is being carried on to the next generation and that’s important.

We had some crazy parties down here for the 50th! It’s funny that I tell you that like you don’t know. Your daughters are beautiful and they have that same spark within them that you had. They don’t require anything flashy to stand out. There’s the same kind of vibration about them as you had. I can’t help but look at Trixie’s face and see the picture in my mind of her sitting on your lap at New Years when she was close to my daughter’s age. Carolyn was a wise choice as Matriarch. She’s strong and wise and obviously did a fantastic job raising and guiding them. She sent me a message once and told me I sounded like I was drinking Fool Aid. While she wasn’t paying me a compliment, I couldn’t help but to laugh at her choice of words. It reminded me of the night I met you in the bar at The Desmond in Albany and you refused my request for an autograph. At least when you did it, you looked me straight in the eyes and were as nice as someone could be when saying “No”. You didn’t ignore me or pretend like I wasn’t there. It meant nothing to you but everything to me… It means more to be denied by a Garcia for trying than to be accepted by a thousand others for nothing. You gave me a minute of your time and that was worth more than signing something that I probably would’ve lost.

I couldn’t help but to wonder what your face would’ve been like while Phil was singing Eyes. I imagined it may have been similar to mine when my son is being Spiderman. We all had a great time and the feeling of the best years of our lives came back to us so strongly that most of us have had trouble going back to the lives we created in the 20 years since you split. You were honored for sure and I know you enjoyed the experience. As much as folks talked about you being there in Spirit, we all wished you were there in molecules and matter instead. Looking at a stage without you on it is like looking at your hand. It’s so obvious to see that something is missing. Crazy how that accident ended up creating an image that would always be a symbol of your legacy.

We miss you every bit as much now as we did 20 years ago. That doesn’t happen for many folks. When folks pass, one of the things that brings me comfort is thinking they’re listening to you play again. Free from all the bullshit. Free from fanfare and everything else. Free from expectation. Free from folks endlessly calling your name… Free from everything… I’m glad you’re free… I hope one day I get to talk with you like 2 people that love music. I’ll be free from all the fanfare and everything else… I’ll be from all the bullshit and intimidation… I’ll be listening to you play once again… I’ll be glad I’m free… I hope that place exists and we’re both part of it…

Dead To The Core,

Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)

Garciainshades

The Days Between during Jerry Week have been full of incredibly mixed emotions that reside on completely opposite ends of the psychological spectrum for 20 years now. We all get out as much as we can and listen to other musicians honor the one that we collectively honor most. While there are many out there that have made a great life for themselves paying tribute to Garcia, and I enjoy hearing them, they all fall flat for me emotionally. Every single one of them… No exceptions… While plenty of people have learned to play the notes, Garcia was so much more than his notes. Many have had Luthiers craft equipment at great expense to duplicate his sound, yet his sound remains unduplicated. People have created guitars made of the same wood, same hardware, same shape, same everything… Ultimately the body that matters most doesn’t belong to the guitar but the individual that it’s strapped against. The sound that’s created really begins in the Soul of the one who plays it, somewhere well below, or above, the surface. A place that doesn’t succumb to the influence of the intellect but, when used properly, utilizes the intellect as a servant to the sound within them instead of the other way around. Nobody can practice that and it can’t be copied. Those that have learned to play like Garcia utilized the intellect attempting to learn or decipher what came from the Soul of Garcia. While entertaining, it will always be missing the most vital component of the entire process… The heart through which it originally came… Those of us that were fortunate enough to exist and experience Garcia experienced a gift that was given out only once in history. The gift that was Garcia has enabled generations of artists to feed their families by providing people with a small glimpse into what the experience was like. I appreciate their efforts…

Unfortunately, there’s too many things that just can’t be copied… You know who can walk into a room in sweat pants and some orthopedic shoes and be the baddest brother in the room? Only Garcia… You know who could completely alter the vibrational character and temperature of a place just by stepping into it and do so powerfully enough that you could sense it even if your back was turned? Only Garcia… You know who can sing a line about getting across a River with the depth of emotion and expression of someone that seems to know that everything that’s great and true in life is on the other side of that lazy river? You know who can pull that off with the sincerity of Mother Teresa talking about the poor? Only Garcia… You know who can wear a Members Only jacket to Disney World on a 95 degree day and still be the coolest cat in the whole damn park??? Only Garcia… You know who can get deep into a solo, hitting tons of notes and keep coming across a familiar one while passing through all of them again and again, like somebody looking through a bag of keys, until he finally pulls that familiar note out of the mix and grabs onto it like a Magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat as he takes the note that seemed to be hiding and blasts it on full display and glory for the world to hear? Only Garcia… You know who could stand totally unmoved while a hurricane of sound spun around him furiously and be completely uninfluenced or pressured by it in any way, like an anchor that holds a mighty ship in place during the most ferocious of storms? Only Garcia… You know who had an innately gifted internal metronome that kept a time that only he could keep, just a fragment behind conventional expectation, and could elaborately decorate with his strings a musical platform from which his impending lyric would be presented upon? Only Garcia… You know who could reach me, personally, with all of it causing intense introspection and development, breaking down walls that could no longer stand if I was to become who and what I was called to become in this life, opening doors for the gifts to come shining through and be expressed and doing it all without even trying? Only Garcia…

I understand the challenges in different ways of different art forms much the same way. I understand, through writing, that I hope to help many of US say what we would say if we only knew how to say it. Robert Hunter has done that for all of US for a long time… While I’m well aware that I’m not worthy of sharpening pencils for people like Robert Hunter or the late great, Hunter S. Thompson, I still have to give it my sincerest efforts. I usually don’t like anything I write while I’m writing it because the bar that’s set before us is much too high to think of getting close to, let alone over. Often times, the things I think of throwing out altogether end up being the most popular things. The things I like most usually fall flat… That being said, in The Days Between I share with you one of my favorite pieces(uh Oh), Looking For The Silver Lining…

Been looking for The Silver Lining but this one seems all gray
Nothing’s been the same since the night you went away
The Story Teller makes no choice, that’s what you always said
It’s funny that we all found Life amongst The Grateful Dead
The wrinkled eyes of Heaven know this day as if by heart
The tears through years of mourning that have torn our world apart
You’re the one that brought The Treasure and Grabbed Magic from the air
Everyone craved The Golden Eggs but The Goose that left them there
The blistered hands of time still turn the Crank that runs The Wheel
The cards all come back empty every time we get The Deal
Mercy wrote a letter, sent to Death by Standard Mail
The message came back, “Sorry but No Mercy is for Sale”
My face is callused from the salted water my Eyes have shed
I can’t get back to Tennessee and can’t find my friend Jed
I can’t believe twenty have passed since your Graduation Day
Still broken vans with broken plans like dogs that went astray
Another Summer passes by another Winter Near
And there remains the lullaby our ears still long to hear
Your tone preserved in ones and zeros, we turn another page
Where softly grows the silent fire that turns to full grown rage
Days are still found Dazing in The Days that Lie Between
And thoughts churn in our minds yet we can’t figure what they mean
To hear a few more notes from you would cure this inward drought
In the spaces in between each one We figured the whole thing out
My thoughts and days are like the style of playing you were usin’
Moments of intense clarity seem to arise from complete confusion
In my head, I see your frame, your chin pinned to your chest
Like you’re looking into your own heart and pulling out what’s best
I vividly hear the music build like champagne when you shake it
You took your time getting to the Mic we all wondered if you’d make it
But just as Springtime turns to Heat and Heat then turns to Cold
The only place we find Silver now is where there once was gold
With thoughts of you that never die and No replacement near
We celebrate the life you gave to all of US every year
Your Soulful Sound to China Cats to Mission in The Rain
We’ll cherish what you gave to US until we meet again…

Love y’all! See ya out there somewhere soon… I’m writing from a somewhat broken place today… I imagine that might show…

Dead To The Core,

Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)