Your Lore Chapter 10: Josiah Babcock “At The Rail”

RG: You're a music person, of music as I like to say. I recognize that you have lots of passion for life in general, but music is at the top of the heap. How and when in your life did listening to music and seeing TONS of live music present itself to you as a "thing." What was the awakening like?

JB: I grew up listening to music on car rides. Mom had tapes of Barry Manilow’s “Even Now” (which kicked off with the power A-side of Copacabana, Somewhere in the Night, A Linda Song, and Can’t Smile Without You) and Lionel Ritchie’s “Can’t Slow Down” (All Night Long, Stuck on You, Hello), and Dad would play Willie Nelson’s “Stardust” album every Friday night as we drove up into the mountains to ski. I also vividly remember driving up I-70 to Vail in my uncle’s Suburban in the Rocky Mountain snow and darkness, with my brother and cousins, listening to Gordon Lightfoot’s “Gord’s Gold” and Johnny Cash. Singing along and loving music came naturally.  

I listened to the radio a lot as a kid. I remember being 10 and listening to Casey Kasem on American Top 40 with “Every Breath You Take” by The Police dominating the charts, and LOVED calling in to Portland stations to get them to play songs like Nena’s “99 Red Balloons” in 1984 and trying to win tickets to concerts. I won tickets to my first two shows, Dan Fogelberg at The Cumberland County Civic Center in Portland, ME (he was good, but the slide show presentation backdrop was pretty boring to a little league kid), and John Denver at Mount Cranmore in North Conway, New Hampshire. Mom took my little brother, Sam, and me to that one – it was awesome. Beautiful outdoor setting in the mountains, and it means all the more since we lost John. I still love his music. Yeah, it was flowers, children, and rainbows, but he was so sincere about it. I loved him in the “Oh, God” movies with George Burns, too.

My kick into live music started the summer after I graduated high school, 1991 at The Ballpark in Old Orchard Beach, Maine. I saw Steve Miller, James Taylor, and Hot Tuna opening for Weir/Wasserman that summer. Had so much fun.

As far as an awakening goes, that came along with The Grateful Dead. If you’ll indulge me, that’s a whole story, not that different from many others’, I’m sure, and for that we have to go back to 1987.

My freshman year of high school came on the heels of the release of The Grateful Dead’s “In the Dark” album, and “Touch of Grey” actually made it onto the charts and peaked at number 9 that September. A LOT of my friends suddenly started listening to The Dead, wearing tie dyes and all that. I was into setting trends, not following them, so I stuck to my neon colors and Teva sandals, and opted NOT to go to Oxford Plains the following summer to see two absolutely EPIC nights of Grateful Dead wizardry, and opted OUT of seeing Bobby open for The Jerry Garcia Band with Clarence Clemons sitting in for the whole gig at The Ballpark in Old Orchard Beach the summer after that in 1989. I’ll never forgive 16 year old me for missing those…

Thankfully, one night, during my Junior year, a friend left a cassette copy of “American Beauty” in my car. I brought it inside and popped in the little boombox I had by the head of my bed and hit play. “Box of Rain” was the opening track. As it played, something broke free in my heart and my mind and my soul. My universe expanded, brightened, sharpened, my heart overflowed, and I was forever changed. I had never heard anything like it. Nothing had ever touched me in the way that song did.

I rewound the tape and listened to the song again, and again, and again, and again. I was absolutely sober, but positively soaring. I fell madly in love with the band, and it’s been a beautiful, passionate relationship ever since. The bus came by, and how. I had 100 tapes of shows by the time I saw them in ’92. It was a late start, but I was lucky enough to catch them 60 times before we lost Jerry.

RG: What do you love about it so much - how does it make you feel or not feel?  Describe the effect that live music has on you…

JB: I believe that music is magic. For me, the clearest evidence of that is goosebumps. You can’t make yourself get goosebumps. You can’t sit there and say, “Ok, I’m going to make every hair on my body stand on end right now,” and then do it. At least, I can’t. But, when the music hits you just the right way – it could be a lyric, it could be a note, it could be a silent pause – the space between notes, it could be a giant crescendo – and it lights your body up and makes every cell tingle and dance – THAT is why I love music. That’s the magic.

And it’s those moments of utter joy and euphoria… actually, wait, it’s not always joy. I love beautifully melancholy music too – in fact it’s one of my favorite genres – music so poignantly sad that it soars… Like The Cure or Mazzy Star or Jerry ballads like “Morning Dew” or “Standing on the Moon” or “Wharf Rat…” Achingly beautiful. I’m a big fan of the “upliftingly melancholy” genre. Here’s a mix I made all about that, called “Melancholiftia.” Click to Listen.

But, back to the joy and euphoria, that’s what I chase in live music. The moments that the music moves you and you forget you exist – you’re just part of that moment. Sure, you can listen to music and think about how it sounds and dance accordingly, make yourself do it. But when the music takes you for a ride… Real ecstasy – like the Greeks talked about – “total involvement with an object of interest… and lack of awareness of your surroundings.” That’s the stuff.
Speaking of which, you captured the essence of that beautifully in “Dance.” Forgive me while I quote you to you:

“You can dance, dance, move your feet and lose your mind
You can dance, dance, leave your troubled world behind…
Move your feet, shake the floor, leave your troubles at the door
Move yourself, you can move your soul, let the music take control.”

RG: Do you think it’s a nature vs. nurture thing?  Playing music is a gift, but appreciating music to the degree you do is a gift as well.  Do you think some are born more receptive to music appreciation?

JB: You know, I do think that. And it’s kinda sad. I feel incredibly lucky to be so deeply moved by music, it’s a rejuvenating life force. And I pity those who don’t seem to get it. I always hope that they just haven’t heard the right music for them yet. Maybe it’s something to do with a person’s wiring. Music can make you feel. It can bring back memories of times and places. I’ve heard smells are supposed to be the strongest triggers of memory, but music has to be close behind. I can hear a version of “Eyes of the World” and Boom! I’m right back driving up out of Death Valley as the sun set, listening to that same Jerry solo… But the “nurture” aspect – there’s something to that, too. One of my greatest pleasures in life is playing music for other people.

RG: I’m actually embarrassed that I don’t know this, but do you play any instruments?

JB: I wish. I’d LOVE to be up there on stage, blowing peoples’ minds and making them dance and smile and taking them along on that ride with me. I play a little guitar, and I can belt out a damn fine rendition of “My Way” to bring down the house at the end of a night of karaoke, but I’ve accepted my role as this half of the equation. I’m a fan. And there’s this beautiful symbiotic relationship between musicians and audiences. They feed off of one another, and when it’s working the way it should, they elevate each other. I see it like this…

The band plays something that gets the audience off, so the audience dances harder and sends that energy back up to the band, and that spurs the band on to higher heights, which gets the crowd off more, which makes the band play better and up and up and up and up! I know you know exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve shared plenty of those moments. I see your eyebrows go up when you look at me like “How about this shit?!? Can you believe this is happening?!?” as we soar together. Not much beats it. Thank you for that.

RG: You have a public persona of sorts as Josiah At The Rail which is sort of like a living diary of your passion for music in the form of a FB Group and a Podcast.  It seems to me, it’s like a scrap book of a range of music and experience that capture you. Are there other pieces to your online presence that I missed?  How do you think of it?  Any particularly tasty recent nuggets from that diary you might share with the listening audience?

JB: It's funny, I could see it coming off as kinda narcissistic, but that was never my intent. I was down in Mexico seeing Furthur play their final shows in January of 2014, and a friend was ragging on me and my penchant for the front row and when he saw me, hollered, “JosiahAtTheRail.com!” And I laughed because it was on point. I do love that rail. So, I decided to adopt the moniker and use it for what’s basically my Facebook music blog. As I mentioned earlier, I LOVE sharing music with people who love it. It’s my way of shining some of that light back out there. I’m not a musician per se, but I think I speak the language of music fluently, and love turning others on to the music I love. So, I share the pictures I take and videos I shoot, and mixes I make, and even my podcast on that page, and hope it makes people happy.

The JosiahAtTheRail Podcast is mostly Grateful Dead/Jerry focused, although I did do one I’m very proud of about Strangefolk ‘96-‘99. I haven’t put the podcast out there on iTunes yet, although I’m really proud of it and I probably should. Here’s a link to a Dropbox folder of all of my podcasts, please dig in!! Click to Listen.

RG: Speaking of At The Rail you are literally at the rail for almost all of the shows you go to, in other words right up front.  A few questions about that:  

● There are a lot of advantages to being in the front row, but what really drives you to be front and center? What makes it "one more better"?

JB: The whole rail thing started with The Grateful Dead. I saw my first shows in June of 1992 at Giants Stadium, and was back corner, third tier for my first show. Literally about as far away from the band you could be and still be inside a show. It didn’t matter, I had the best night ever. It wasn’t until my 20th show, a year and a half later, that I finally got to the rail. I’d decided that I wanted to be front row, as close to the band as I could be. So, I got in line December 18th ‘93 at Oakland Coliseum about 6am and was first in line in the South Lot that morning. The line scene at Oakland was INTENSE. The shows were GA there (General Admission) and there were lines on either side of the Coliseum, North Lot and South Lot. The two lines were like rival gangs. Ideally, they’d let both lines into the show at the same moment, and we’d come in on opposite sides of the room at mid-court, halfway up the stands, and walk down the stairs watching each other across the venue, always waiting for someone to bolt, trying to keep calm, but WIRED with butterfly energy after having spent so much time waiting in line. Inevitably, someone would start running and then it was ON, a mad dash for that rail, dodging around security hollering “WALK!!!” diving and sliding across the floor to slam into your spot and hold your turf. Every hippie for themselves. I’m sure it would’ve been fun to watch…

Anyways, I got rail, dead center that night, and the unobstructed, direct energy flow coming off that stage was UNREAL. I was hooked. Here’s a shot of Bobby I took during “One More Saturday Night” that show:

I was front row (or maybe 2nd row if it was reserved and I had to sneak) for my next 40 Grateful Dead shows across the country, all but the first of my 11 Jerry Garcia Band shows, and both my Garcia/Grisman shows (all of which were at The Warfield, which was like church, well, a church in Amsterdam, maybe).

I got spoiled. I won’t say I got used to it, because that channeling of energy with nothing between the band and me is awesome every time I see music, but it’s made watching a concert from anywhere else for a band or musician I love seem “less than.” When I’m in the front row, there are no distractions, nobody checking a ticket with a flashlight, nobody’s head in front of me. It’s also fun being at the front of that wave of audience energy, you can certainly feel it behind you. And the connection with the band – it’s why I’m there. If I’m in the 20th row or upper level somewhere like MSG, I feel like “Oh, hey, there’s a concert going on over there. I can see it’s happening, and I can hear it, but I’m not IN it. It’s way less visceral.

To be clear, I have NEVER EVER pushed my way to the front. People have said to me, “you’re a big guy, why bother waiting in line, just push your way up there.” I WOULD NEVER. If I’m in front at a general admission concert, it’s because I got in line first and put my time in. I’ve spent literally months of my life in line. That’s another pet peeve. Someone walking up, standing directly behind me, and then asking if (or demanding) they can stand in front of me because I’m taller than they are. If someone wants to stand in front of me, all they need to do is get there before me. I’d never take someone’s well-earned spot from them. And, if you can’t see when you stand right behind me, how about standing literally anywhere else in the venue? Then I won’t be in your way. Pretty simple.

• RG: What’s the most insane amount of time you ever spent waiting on line to be "at the rail"?

JS: I flew out to Seattle to do the May ‘95 West Coast Grateful Dead run. They started the run down in Vegas, but I decided to skip the Vegas-Seattle drive. I got into Seattle the day before the first show there. All the diehard rail rats were still trekking up from Vegas. I took a taxi to the stadium and arrived at 1pm. Doors were at 2pm the next day. I’d never been to Seattle, so I said to myself “Well, you can either cruise around and see the city or be damn sure you’re the very first person in line.” So, I sat down. 25 hours ahead of doors. Here I am that day, used a timer on my SLR camera.

Around 4:30pm a news van pulled up, and a woman in a skirt suit with a microphone and a cameraman hopped out. She walked over to me and asked why I was there.
“I’m the line,” I said.
“For The Grateful Dead?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions for the 6 o’clock news?”

I said “Of course not!” and she proceeded to interview me. She asked where I was from – Maine, how many times I’d seen them – 50, where & when I’d last seen them – Memphis the month before, why I was in line so early… I’m sure I was her dream come true.

When it came time for the news, I stashed my backpack in some bushes (so I could prove to anyone else who might show up that I’d been there) and ran up the street to a bar with a TV. Just before a commercial, she came on, with me in the background, and said “The Grateful Dead are coming to Seattle for the next 3 nights – what sort of impact will this have on the city, and why is this man in line over 24 hours ahead of time? We’ll be back after this.”

When it came back from commercial, there I was, with red & blue bars across the bottom of the screen that said “Josiah Babcock – Deadhead.” I knew I’d finally made it. Boy would mom & Dad be proud.

• RG: I have seen some Epic shots of you at the rail including The Grateful Dead 50th.  Are there others that are on your wall of fame?

JB: Sadly, not many. My Grateful Dead rail days were 93-95, before the age of the cell phone, so I only have a couple shots from that Seattle run of me on the rail, but they’re treasured.

The good news is that I saw my last 40 Grateful Dead shows with my dear friends Rob & Michelle Cohn, and Rob/Robbi was a licensed Grateful Dead photographer. I met them in line… We’d all wait in line all day, then go in and get our spots, and then Rob would go in the security pit between the rail & the stage to shoot the first 3 songs and then come back out and join us and shoot the rest of the show standing next to me. Which meant so many amazing photos he took are from right where I was standing. Pretty sweet.

As far as wall of fame stuff, hmmm. I’m on the rail in videos of Phish’s Clifford Ball (their first huge festival), and Nassau during the Island Tour, all their Worcester shows 97-99, Magnaball, many, many great nights of Strangefolk… I made it into every Sunday Paper across the country when Phish broke up - on the Rail night one of Coventry. What a shitshow. Bailed after that first show. But the pic went out on the AP wire. Even made it into High Times…

RG: You take your daughter Fawn to a lot of shows.  I know she's getting big fast, but how old is she again? 

JB: Fawn turned 6 on May 4th, she’s my little Jedi.

RG: I’ve seen her enthusiasm for music, nature or nurture be damned, she’s in!  What does she like best about live music or music in general? 

JB: Fawn is an old soul with music in her veins. She sings everywhere she goes, everywhere she walks, skis, you name it. With her, I think it’s both nature AND nurture. She loves to dance, too.

When she was 4, I sat her down next to me at my computer and played her hundreds of songs from every genre. If she liked something, I’d set it aside. I made no push for or against anything. When we finished, I took the songs and made 3 cds of them. So, we’d drive around in the car listening to the songs that had sparked an interest. Sometimes she’d ask me to skip this song or that, so we narrowed it down to one cd of “Fawn’s Favorites”. It’s got everything on it from Jackson Browne to P-funk, Regina Spektor to The Rah Band. Driving along in the car belting out a song together with Fawn is one of my greatest joys in life. Here’s that mix: Click to Listen.

And here’s a video of a typical drive to school in the morning. This was back when she was 4, heading to preschool… It’ll make your day. I also made her a Beatles mix early on. So much of their music is so fun and colorful and psychedelic and perfect for kids of all ages. We still listen to both of those mixes a lot: Click to Listen.

As to Nature vs. Nurture, one of the greatest moments of my life happened recently… I found my old Walkman in my basement. I popped in some fresh batteries and lo and behold, it still worked! I picked out 10 or so tapes from my basement, among them that very copy of American Beauty a friend left in my car in high school (remember my experience with Box of Rain I mentioned earlier), and gave them to Fawn, along with the Walkman. I didn’t tell her anything about any of the music, just how the thing worked and not to play it so loudly that she’d hurt her ears.

You’ll never guess what happened. She listened to some DJ Dan, some live Grateful Dead, some Bob Marley, and then put in that tape of American Beauty. As soon as "Box of Rain" ended, she hit the rewind button. And then listened to Box again, and again, and again. I just sat there and watched with tears rolling down my cheeks.  The video below is of Fawn (who put the Walkman in a bag so she could dance, all on her own) on her second day of listening to Box of Rain over and over and over and over, shot from the dining room so she wouldn’t see me. At the end, you’ll see her stop the tape and hit rewind to play it again. I never suggested that she repeat the song, never told her which tape to listen to, and didn’t tell her about my own experience until after I filmed this. It was an incredibly powerful and joyful moment to see my apple fall so close to my tree.

RG: Does she get the whole "must be at the rail" thing? 

JB: Very much so. But she came to it, as she used say, “on her owners.” I told myself early on that I wouldn’t force that upon her at all. The first time I took her to see some friends play after she could walk (she saw a few shows in my arms), I put her down at the back of a crowd of about 40 people. She IMMEDIATELY wove her way through everyone and to the front row. Proud papa moment for sure. My little rail mouse!! Apparently, it’s genetic. And she ALWAYS wears ear protection. No kid should ever be at a show without it. Fawn even brought tons of extra foam earplugs to Eden and handed them out to other kids as “the earplug fairy” this past summer.

I’ve tried to instill some rail etiquette in Fawn. Things like: Get there/in line early, ideally first, if you want to be front row, earn your spot. If you’re going to be in the front row, just like it’s the band’s responsibility to entertain you, it’s your responsibility to give that energy back to the band. It’s a two-way street. Don’t stand on the rail and look bored.

If the music isn’t moving you, give the rail spot to someone else who IS being moved by the music. I’ve only had to take myself off the rail once. One night I just couldn’t get into the groove, and I handed the rail spot off to a friend of mine who really appreciated being there and I’m sure that was better for him and for the band. Don’t stand with your back to the band. Don’t lean on the rail looking bored. Don’t be on your phone texting, or film the entire concert. Stuff like that. Sounds like a lot, I know. But we have a REALLY good time.

I do like to film songs and portions of concerts, but I don’t stand there with my phone up for the whole gig. That’s not fair to the band. Speaking of which, I’ve been lucky enough to film you and Strangefolk a couple of entire shows, but I’d never do that from the rail.

RG: Are there passions she has that surprise you because they are indeed overtly genetic (example my kids are good at sports and I sucked - #blowsmymind) or just other passions that the two of you share?

JB: She’s an artist. Loves to color and paint, loves art in general. We both love to ski, love going to the movies, love the outdoors, love music, love the energy of concerts and sports. The Patriots are a big one. I’m sure that’s more nurture, but she’s growing up in a family of passionately enthusiastic Pats fans. We take pictures before each game of her in her Pats attire, game face on, and share them on Facebook to get others excited for the games and for good luck. She joined me for two games this season as well. Here’s a season recap video of those pics and the couple games she got to attend with me.

We now live in Newmarket, NH, and it’s only an hour ten drive to Fenway. So, we try to get to lots of Red Sox games, too. They’re a lot more affordable. We even got to go to the first game of the 2018 World Series!

She’s really into biographies. We go to the library and take out piles of books about famous people, role models like Abraham Lincoln or Rosa Parks or Vincent Van Gogh. She’s a voracious learner. Last winter, when she was 5, we piled everything into my truck one Friday afternoon after school and pulled up out to the end of the driveway and I asked her, “Where do you want to go? We could go to Maine, or Vermont, go skiing, go to Boston or New York… Anything!”

“New York!” she said.
“Ok,” I said.
“Do they have museums?” she asked.
“Yes, they have lots of amazing museums.”
“Do they have an art museum?”
“Yes. They have some amazing art museums.”
“Do they have Starry Night?”
“Yes, they do. It’s at MOMA!”
“Let’s go there!” she said.

And we did. I’m not sure how many 5 year-olds, when given the opportunity to do anything for a weekend would choose to go see a painting. She’s my hero.

She does things like this… She came into the living room with my Jerry doll one morning when she was 3 and decided to put on a show for me. I asked her to stop for a second so I could film it.

And, when we get to experience live music together, that’s as good as it gets for me. Last year, all she wanted for her 5th birthday was tickets to see her favorite, Bob Seger. He was on his farewell tour and had already played Boston, so we trekked down to Long Island and caught him at Jones Beach. We snuck to front row center together for the entire show. After Fawn, I think I was the next youngest person at the concert. And Fawn rocked that rail, belting out almost every song along with the band. They were cracking up, Bob kept pointing to her and smiling, both his guitarists gave her their picks. I’m assuming they don’t get too many 6 year-old Silver Bullet fans. Here’s a video of her rockin’ out on the rail to her favorite song, “Fire Down Below” and a couple pics.

We’ve seen Bob Weir & Wolf Brothers a couple times together, as well. She danced all night. Well, almost all night – had to leave mid-second set, like we’ve had to do for each night at Eden, as it gets late for her. But I’ll take ¾ of a Show with Fawn over a whole show with anyone else any day.

Throwing her up on my shoulders for a couple big crescendos at Strangefolk’s Garden of Eden, feeling her absolutely raging up there, knowing she’s experiencing that lost-in-the-moment ecstasy, that’s incredibly special.

Thank you for having her up on stage with you during Strangefolk’s Eden VIP sets the last couple years, too. She’s a lucky little girl. We love you guys.

RG: You've been a huge supporter of me and my musical friends in general (thank you).  In particular, I know Jon Trafton's guitar playing really speaks to you.  Broadly, I get it - shit I saw him play guitar during UVM orientation and was like "I want to be in a band with that dude."  That said, like the "how does music make you feel" question above, what is it about Jon's playing that captures you?  How would you describe the response it elicits in you emotionally or energetically?

JB: Hmmm. To answer that, I think I should put my love for Strangefolk in context. Jerry Garcia is the only person I’ve ever truly loved without having met. I loved/love that man. Nothing has ever made me feel the way his guitar makes me feel. And, while he may not have had the best voice of all time, he was an incredible storyteller. The way he would embody the characters in the songs he’d sing, the way he could emote, and bring you along for whatever emotional ride that character had been through, like he’d lived it himself, the way he sang from his heart and then would take you soaring through the cosmos with his guitar work, he was a very special human. So, when we lost Jerry in 1995, I thought that I’d never get to feel that way about music ever again. It was heartbreaking, even though we all knew it was coming. And like so many of us, I felt lost.

And then… I found Strangefolk.

And it was the combination of all of it –Trafton’s guitar, your voice, all of your voices, actually, the 3-part harmonies, the songcraft, the camaraderie both on and off the stage… Back then it was more an acoustilectric sound with you playing acoustic and Jon on the narrow-body Washburn. It truly was strange folk. What hooked me, I think, was the combination of your voice, and the way you could passionately build to a vocal peak, and then Jon would take that wave you’d built up and he had the ability to make it crest and crash over all of us in a soaring crescendo… Think So Far Gone or Alaska or Dance or Westerly.

The songwriting had that Hunter/Garcia Americana/storytelling thing going for it, the music coming from those same muddy hollows and hills like The Band or CSN or The Dead or Little Feat - some bluegrass, some rock, some folk, some swamp, maybe a little maple syrup…

As to Jon’s guitar work… He’s got the combination of a great ear, great intuition, incredible dexterity, and he really plays to the audience. He’s not up there in a shell, apart from the audience in a bubble… He’s looking out over the crowd, connecting with friends and family and new faces, feeding off that, and giving that energy back. He can go all dark and emotive and middle-eastern and creepy, and he can play beautiful, melodious, sunshiny, fluttery stuff, then launch into soaring, frenzied, crescendo’d leads, sometimes even within the same song. But I think the thing that really “got me” right off the bat, was that ability to crest and crash that wave that you set up so beautifully for him.

RG: Speaking of guitar players – it’s no secret that you have a love for the Grateful Dead and Garc in particular.  There is so much that’s been written about them/him - is there one article or book that you feel like really captures the essence of what makes Garcia and The Dead so unusual?

JB: That’s a tough one… Bob Dylan wrote this about Jerry after his death: “There's no way to measure his greatness or magnitude as a person or as a player. I don't think eulogizing will do him justice. He was that great – much more than a superb musician with an uncanny ear and dexterity. He is the very spirit personified of whatever is muddy river country at its core and screams up into the spheres. He really had no equal. To me he wasn't only a musician and friend, he was more like a big brother who taught and showed me more than he'll ever know. There are a lot of spaces and advances between the Carter family, Buddy Holly, and, say, Ornette Coleman, a lot of universes, but he filled them all without being a member of any school. His playing was moody, awesome, sophisticated, hypnotic and subtle. There's no way to convey the loss. It just digs down really deep.”

And, my other favorite lyrical poet of our generation, Robert Hunter, may he rest in peace, wrote this beautiful note to Jerry 3 days after he passed, which I first read when GDTS (Grateful Dead  Ticket Sales) sent back my refund and my stamped mail order tickets for the whole Boston Garden September ‘95 run, and included in the envelope on beautifully printed card stock was this:

For Jerry Garcia: “I’ll just say I love you which I never said before.”
by Robert Hunter | 12 August 1995, Belvedere, California, USA

Jerry, my friend,
you've done it again,
even in your silence
the familiar pressure
comes to bear, demanding
I pull words from the air
with only this morning
and part of the afternoon
to compose an ode worthy
of one so particular
about every turn of phrase,
demanding it hit home
in a thousand ways
before making it his own,
and this I can't do alone.
Now that the singer is gone,
where shall I go for the song?

Without your melody and taste
to lend an attitude of grace
a lyric is an orphan thing,
a hive with neither honey's taste
nor power to truly sting.

What choice have I but to dare and
call your muse who thought to rest
out of the thin blue air
that out of the field of shared time,
a line or two might chance to shine --

As ever when we called,
in hope if not in words,
the muse descends.

How should she desert us now?
Scars of battle on her brow,
bedraggled feathers on her wings,
and yet she sings, she sings!

May she bear thee to thy rest,
the ancient bower of flowers
beyond the solitude of days,
the tyranny of hours--
the wreath of shining laurel lie
upon your shaggy head
bestowing power to play the lyre
to legions of the dead

If some part of that music
is heard in deepest dream,
or on some breeze of Summer
a snatch of golden theme,
we'll know you live inside us
with love that never parts
our good old Jack O' Diamonds
become the King of Hearts.

I feel your silent laughter
at sentiments so bold
that dare to step across the line
to tell what must be told,
so I'll just say I love you,
which I never said before
and let it go at that old friend
the rest you may ignore.

Hunter also wrote this in an email to Jerry in August of ‘96, a year after his death:

“Walking down Madrone Canyon in Larkspur in 1969, you said some pretty mindblowing stuff, how we were creating a universe and I was responsible for the verbal half of it. I said maybe, but it was your way with music and a guitar that was pulling it off. You said "That's for now. This is your time in the shadow, but it won't always be that way. I'm not going to live a long time, it's not in the cards. Then it'll be your turn." I may be alive and kicking, but no pencil pusher is going to inherit the stratosphere that so gladly opened to you. Recalling your statement, though, often helped keep me oriented as my own star murked below the horizon while you streaked across the sky of our generation like a goddamned comet! …

Obviously, faith in the underlying vision which spawned the Grateful Dead might be hard to muster for those who weren't part of the all night rap sessions circa 1960-61 ... sessions that picked up the next morning at Kepler's bookstore then headed over to the Stanford cellar or St. Mike's to continue over coffee and guitars. There were no hippies in those days and the beats had bellied up. There was only us vs. 50's consciousness. There were no jobs to be had if we wanted them. Just folk music and tremendous dreams. Yeah, we dreamed our way here. I trust it. So did you. Not so long ago we wrote a song about all that, and you sang it like a prayer. The Days Between. Last song we ever wrote.”

RG: If you were to use your own words - how would you sum it up in three words?

JB: Soul-stirring psychedelic sorcery.

RG: What are some guilty pleasures you have musically that are left of center? A few bands or artists that would be hard to admit to in the midst of a Garcia dance party?

JB: Good question. I already mentioned John Denver… Check out “The Eagle and The Hawk” and “Rhymes & Reasons.” Steve Miller (check out his “Brave New World” album, “Kow Kow” is one of the best songs ever) and Simon & Garfunkel were my favorites before I got into the Grateful Dead & Jerry. But none of those are too far left. DJ Dan, west-coast funky house DJ, has been a long-time hero of mine. I’ve seen him spin at raves and clubs all across the country since the mid ‘90s.  Gavin Hardkiss/Hawke is another DJ I love. The Beach Boys, especially songs like “God Only Knows,” “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” and “Good Vibrations” – from the beautiful mind of Brian Wilson – really move me.

As far as live acts go, Bruce Hornsby & The Noisemakers are my favorite band touring these days. Bruce is so wildly talented, love his voice, and that band is as talented and has as much fun – really listening to and playing off one another – as anyone I’ve seen. Chris Smither – living legend, folk/blues singer/songwriter, is one of my all-time favorites. You’d love him, man. If you haven’t seen him play, do yourself a favor. Del McCoury – another living legend, he and his band are one of the tightest bands I’ve ever seen. But still not too far left…

AC/DC, you can’t go see them any more, but man… I went to see them in 2008 with my brother, Sam, figuring it’d be fun, a nostalgia act, get to sing along to some literally “classic” rock. Holy F. That was BY FAR the most ROCKIN’ face-melting, jump up and down screaming for 2 straight hours, devil horns in the air ROCK SHOW I’ve ever seen. Angus Young SHREDDED that guitar and was absolutely possessed. Blew my mind.

Lastly, I’ll throw Jimmy Buffett in the ring. Here’s a pic I took of him at the Paradise in Boston:

I know, everyone hates him. Same reason everyone hates The Steve Miller Band. It’s because they’ve only heard the greatest hits album 8000 times… Cheeseburger in Paradise, Margaritaville, Fly Like an Eagle, and Jet Airliner (which is a cover by the late absolutely fucking awesome Paul Pena – go download his album “New Train” today! You’re welcome). I’ve been seeing Jimmy since 1991, mostly at Great Woods, and that parking lot pregame scene is unparalleled. No Dead show, NFL game, college football game, or Phish lot I’ve seen even holds a candle to the Parrotheads and the one-day, pull out all the stops, vacation party they throw. Everyone’s super friendly, there to party, truly letting it all hang out – from tiki bars to school busses made into pirate ships, beach sand to pickup truck pools filled with water, and his band is great! They were especially awesome when they had Sonny Landreth (guitarist) and Bill Payne (keys, Little Feat) in the band for a few years there. I love his music. His shows are the most pure FUN of any I’ve seen. Not the transcendental, spiritual experience of The Grateful Dead, but a darn good time. And I’ve done many of those Buffett shows with my Dad. Many of our greatest times together have been Buffett shows. Ma even came to one! I think them getting to see me dance my butt off and be moved by the music like I am might help bridge the gap to all that understanding they offered on pure faith when I was moving across the country to see Jerry or trekking around with you guys…

RG: I have an image of you burned in my brain for all of eternity which is kinda like a montage of many moments looking out in the crowd and seeing your monstrous smile and arms held aloft.  I'm sure you have a similar waking dream like cascade of moments around Strangefolk and many of our mutual friends - anything stand out as newsworthy - something funny, odd, old, new, borrowed, blue, profound, silly?  Just a moment that shines above others?

JB: There are so many… The first time I saw you guys… You were playing a “Last Day of Loudness” off-campus party at Colby in Winslow. It was a big keg party on a sunny Spring day in a field and you guys were on a porch without railings that came to a corner over the edge of the field. Idyllic.

The first time it really clicked for me was February ‘96 at Stone Coast in Portland. The whole show was great, but I remember Trafton playing some Bird Song riffs in Rachel and realizing that you guys were kindred spirits.

Strangefolk | Feb. ‘96 Stone Coast Portland, ME

One of my favorite shows ever was May 9th ‘96 at The Bull & Bier Pub in Plymouth, NH. It was tiny, and the stage was miniscule, and had a drink rail around it so I could be front row with my drink right there, you guys slayed it. And before the encore, we were in the van and I asked for Juicy Fruit and someone else asked for Reubens, and you guys hooked it up beautifully! Luke did the Reuben’s drum intro into Juicy Fruit right into Reuben’s. Click to Listen.

Tons of hilarious moments… You singing the …As encore May 20th ‘96 on the green at Bowdoin. Scott Trafton was hosting a party at “The Crack House” and you sang some alternate lyrics. Click to Listen.

The three set Colby Student Center show February 8th ’97 with Jim Luchese and the Oxbow Reprise will always be a favorite. Click to Listen.

Carrying your light rigs up flights of stairs April 24th ‘97 in Northampton - the night I met Kat, Jean, and Tina. We all became fast friends and saw too many shows to count together. The Folka Polka-Alaska-Video Game-Alaska from the Conor Brown Set at Somerville is right up there for my all-time favorite moments.

Here are my two videos of April 25th ‘97 Somerville Theatre. And the next night, April 26th at Waterville Opera House. I rented a big-ass video camera with RCA inputs and adjustable levels for sound and you guys let me patch into the soundboard. I filmed from downstairs by the board at Somerville, and with 50’ RCA cables from the board up to the center of the balcony in Waterville. It was hard not being on the rail for those shows, couple of great nights, but it’s been worth it in the long run to have captured them. Thanks to Nat Koren for the patches! Miss that guy!

Another epic Alaska (video), New Years ‘97 at The Sweatlands. You guys played a 3 set show, starting just before midnight, opened with Alaska, and did the countdown up to the ripping crescendo for New Years, then played ‘til sunrise Bill Graham Grateful Dead Winterland New Years style with bagels and OJ post show and all. I remember smoking 4:20am between set 2 and 3. Classic.

Eden ’98 with the oldies first night. Stupendous. I miss Trafton’s hat. Hope that makes an outdoor summer comeback. Click to Listen.

Colorado March ‘99 tour with you guys was a very special treat. This Jam->Reuben’s from The Aggie was particularly sweet. Click to Listen.

The W set, thanks for that one. Click to Listen.

Great American Music Hall for 2 nights, Halloween ‘99. The Dear Mr Fantasy-Hey Jude Finale night one Click to Listen … and Where the Wild Things Are night 2.

I could go on and on… Thank you for all the music over all the years. You guys have been a huge part of the soundtrack of my life. You’re great friends, and I’ve met SO MANY of my very best friends thanks to you. I won’t even attempt to name them all for fear I’d leave someone out. Let’s just say that it is indeed a family affair.