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A surprising element of learning more about how the Grateful Dead wrote its original material regards the authority of their voice — or in their case, their multiple lead-singing vocalists.
Other than the Allman Brothers, I can’t think of an important rock band that split its lead vocal duties as evenly between two major players as did the Dead.
Nonetheless, to the tourist-level fan, there is no doubt that the voice of Jerry Garcia represents the vocal “signature” of the Grateful Dead. His particular thin, straining, quavering high voice paradoxically spoke with an authority that a better, stronger, more typical rock front-man’s voice would not have.
A cross between mystical, all-wise guru and wiseguy “head”, Garcia’s pronouncements gained by their utterly authentic delivery via his “flawed” vocals. (I already know “we” Deadheads wouldn’t change a thing, at least until the 80s).
So it is a point of inquiry for me that the original words he sung were not usually of his own creation, but of Robert Hunter or other collaborators.
Now, I’m not saying he was just a lyric reader. Surely he and Hunter worked in a collaboration that, at least in myth, was simultaneous and inseparable. Surely we can hear the sentiments of a Hunter lyric and assume that he was writing along the lines ol’ Jer had inspired.
In truth, Garcia probably was more of an editor, in selecting what songs to put to his music, how to arrange them and which lyrics to keep and which to throw out, or modify.
The musical contribution alone stands as a towering achievement on so many classic tunes.
In some ways, Garcia’s interpretation of Hunter’s words might make the lyrics even more meaningful than if Garcia had penned them himself. Few bands worked with such talented and numerous off-site lyricists while writing their own music.
It’s an odd formula but one that created catch-phrases that may have never lived had the band wrote more of its own lyric material. “One man gathers what another man spills.”
Somehow, it may have been easier for Hunter to come up with those gems when he was not standing on stage so many hundreds of nights, watching how the audience reacted to them. Being closer to the reaction may have impeded his creativity.
On another day, I will consider the impact of the unusual songwriting tandems of Garcia-Hunter and Weir-Barlow, and how competition may have served the fans and band favorably, without the typical rancor seen in so many other outfits in the rock era. Right now, it’s a puzzlement to me, on a human level, as to how it stayed together and positive.
I haven’t actually thought about it too much but I can’t think of a rock band more associated with having significant numbers of female fans than The Grateful Dead.
Twirlers spinning to the music. Blowing bubbles. Granny glasses. Sundresses.
The fairer sex always seemed to me to be well-represented in media images of the Dead, which were always concert shots — if not parking lot “scene” pictures.
So where are all the tortured love songs?
Sure, there are a paltry few songs named after women, with Stella (Blue), Bertha (Bertha!), Rosemary and (Ramble on) Rose in their titles, but all in all, pickings for the lovelorn are pretty slim.
In my early meanderings through the songbook, Scarlet Begonias stands out to my ears as the tune most obviously and enjoyably consumed as being about a woman.
She had rings on her fingers and
bells on her shoes,
And I knew without askin’ she was
into the blues
Scarlet begonias
tucked into her curls
I knew right away
she was not like other girls–
other girls
I came across a statement from lyricist Robert Hunter that confessed his interest in layering multiple meanings into his songs. Decades after the fact he identified his wife as the subject of the tune.
But I’m not buying it (sorry Mrs. Hunter).
Well there ain’t nothin’ wrong
with the way she moves
Or scarlet begonias or a
touch of the blues
And there’s nothing wrong with
the love that’s in her eye
I had to learn the hard way
to let her pass by–
let her pass by
My curiosity piqued, I went looking for a picture of the poppy flower. Poppies are yellow, right?
As Mick and Keith sang, “and I won’t forget to put roses on your grave.” (from Dead Flowers)
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