Review: Charting Jerry Garcia's Enormous Cultural Impact
Here Beside the Rising Tide tells the story of the Grateful Dead and the 1960s counterculture.
Former Los Angeles Times man Jim Newton, in his book Here Beside the Rising Tide, picked a representative subject through which to judge the achievements and excesses of the 1960s counterculture: Grateful Dead guitarist and singer Jerry Garcia.
Garcia served briefly in the U.S. Army before getting sucked into the nascent bohemia around the Menlo Park and San Francisco areas in the mid-'60s—one shaped partly by CIA experiments in giving LSD to citizens, including novelist Ken Kesey and Garcia's lyric-writing partner Robert Hunter. Garcia abjured electoral politics and world changing as a deliberate vocation (though Newton hits some insights by running Garcia's history alongside that of fellow California entertainer Ronald Reagan). But President Richard Nixon used Garcia in a campaign ad to represent the untamed American rebel youth many voters hoped he'd quash. Garcia's band made important appearances at many way stations in American culture, from Woodstock to Altamont to MTV to the early internet.
Garcia once said it was a "lie" that freedom means "absolutely and utterly free," explaining that "along with freedom there's implicit responsibility…there is no free ride." Garcia worked hard to make his California hippie troupe what was in many years the highest grossing band in America.
He also abused his liberty to feed his appetites for food and drugs. That cost him his life. But while he lived, he provided insight, aesthetic bliss, and clues about different ways to approach creativity, community, and business. Few Americans have been as influential. As Newton notes, Garcia's form of freedom "doesn't work for everyone, and doesn't always work even for those who come to accept it," but "it's magnificent when it does."
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Not a Dead fan, I prefer Steely Dan.
Look at the dandy of Gamma Chi over here.
Cultures being contributed to have a tendency to respond as if they are being opposed. Nowhere in my experience was that more evident than in Haight-Ashbury, where I lived during 1966–1967. The resistance was systematic, and too often violent. The cultural insistence was never either of those.
That book trying to pry retirement money from the geezer hands of boomers long past their prime?
The albums weren’t free. The concerts weren’t free. And I believe they sold shirts. Like Elvis a generation before and Nirvana a generation after. He had a Ben & Jerry’s flavor named after him. Cha-ching.
Chumby — The way to experience and understand culture is to be there. Not you?
Culture is history, language, cuisine, and music. Getting high with a bunch of other dirty people is indulgent decadence sold to consumers by Madison Ave execs. I imagine the douchester tweakers in present day Portland will be waxing on about these halcyon days some decades into the future. The human feces deposited all over the prolapsed rose city. Used needles on school grounds. Emotionally unstable locals.
When visiting Teotihuacan, we didn’t sacrifice anyone to the sun god much less ourselves.
It's all culture, though.
As are men that cut off their dicks and get an axe wound to cosplay as women. It is about extracting money from rubes. And they got away with it.
Comparing enjoying music with trans culture is WILD!
Then that's what all commercial music is about. I suppose you only enjoy, pure music unadulterated by filthy business? Who's the dirty hippy now? And I like to think the "rubes" get something for their money, even if there are cynical business people on the other side of the transaction. Value is subjective.
Correct: The Dead = Taylor Swift.
And yes, caveat emptor. It is your money and you should be free how to spend it.
The rube part is that consumers shouldn’t believe it is anything beyond purchasing a product with the intent of getting them to buy it. But they are also free to think otherwise.
Oh, there are plenty of gen-X dead heads too.
They are now old enough to be getting a touch of grey.
That's certainly true.
I am a millennial Dead Head. And then there are a bunch of newer ones because of John Mayer and Dead and Company.
Svetlana, eagle fly east in morning.
I tend to be the ultimate libertarian on music. I have zero interest in forcing my music tastes on anyone else, particularly by blasting it in my backyard or my open car windows. I think everyone should like what they like, and nobody else should care.
That said, Boomer hippie jam band trash needs to die. This crap wasn't interesting to anyone sober 60 years ago. Why it persists today is a total fucking mystery.
Because a lot of people aren't sober? And straight-edge dead fans do exist. No one said you have to like it.
I'm a huge jam band fan. Mainly because I enjoy the journey the music takes. It's a different experience every single concert, even with hearing a song again.
Its steeped in this hippie, pothead, junkie bullshit because the dead emerged during the time of LSD experimentation. However, the biggest bands promote sobriety and offer group meetups for those who dont drink or smoke, etc.
Edit: I meant to respond to WB
Indeed. Pretty sure I said that up front. And I don't care if other people do like it. But the Dead's continued outsized influence boggles me. Say warranting an article in a libertarian publication. Because pot, I guess?
Like what you like. Just don't try to tell me your Boomer shit is amazing and I won't bore you with my tastes either.
Amazing is in the eye of the beholder. I'm not going to make any objective claim one way or another. And I'm not really much of a Dead fan (though I can enjoy them from time to time, they did have a lot of good songs, even if the long, disjointed psychedelic jam scene isn't your cup of tea).
He made a fortune playing tediously boring music to large crowds of fans who were too stoned to care. As libertarians we have to admire the business genius of that. I suppose there's also something libertarian about a rich man dying young from self-indulgence.
Unless you were a stoner The Dead didn't appear on your radar screen
It's Cherry Garcia.
He's not a person and never has been. He's an ice cream flavor. There was never a real life basis for it. A pair of greedy Vermont capitalists made a fortune with it.
Capitalists who discovered the joys of socialism after they made their cash.