How many bands caused teenagers to drop out of high school in flocks to follow said band around the country? Not many. The Grateful Dead are objectively the most successful band that has ever existed. They had an army of kids ages 15-70 hitchhiking and carpooling around the States just to hear another 30-minute version of “Casey Jones.” That’s success.
A lot of bands have had similar success, but the reasons are not as authentic. The Beatles were big because they were cute and had matching haircuts. Sure, they had catchy songs. But did they ever turn an old jug band tune into a transcendental freak out that could get Timothy Leary reaching for the Thorazine? Nope. Even The Stones didn’t have the same following as The Dead. They had groupies, sure, but they didn’t have a religion surrounding them. The authenticity of Deadhead passion is confirmed when you realize that, on the whole, The Dead weren’t exactly James Deans or Mick Jaggers. They didn’t wear costumes (post-1968). They weren’t pretty. They wore whatever, they shaved whenever, and they acted like normal people.
Jerry Garcia alone could have been the whole show; an avuncular guitar virtuoso who was versed in everything from R&B to The Carter Family. But with the addition of wholesome heartthrob Bob Weir and, early on, drunken cowboy bluesman Pig Pen? They were unstoppable. They had the big 1960s rock n’ roll archetypes covered: the psychedelic wise man and the Lightnin’ Hopkins singing biker. For this reason, everyone who wasn’t in church could appreciate the Dead. Bikers, vagrants, hippies, and even punks. I’m skeptical of any Black Flag fan who doesn’t hear Jerry in “My War.”
I hypothesize that the main source of The Grateful Dead's massive, devoted fan base was their spontaneity. You never knew how they would play a song and the only way to find out was to follow them around to every tour date. It’s easy to get lost deep in the archives, trying to find all 200-some-odd versions of “Viola Lee.” Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to drink the Kool-Aid to stay interested in a Dead set; all you need is a curiosity for what variations lie ahead.
Even to this day, Weir is still messing with classic Dead songs and keeping things interesting. This past August, I saw the latest incarnation of the group performing as “Dead And Co.” It was fantastic. “Friend Of The Devil” was almost unrecognizable from the recorded version; it was slow and the band incorporated conga drums. I would have never heard this version had I not actually gone to the concert to watch it. Their recorded material is great, but without the context of the live performances, the listener would never know that these songs have lives of their own. This phenomenon can only be understood by watching the Dead.
Deadheads are Deadheads because they love the music and, most importantly, they can’t wait to see what happens to it next. If you’ve ever wondered why so many people love the Dead, and you find their music unremarkable, at least understand this: you haven’t heard the Dead until you’ve heard the same song played a million different times in a million different ways. The only way to do that, of course, is to follow them.
