Since then, this musical method of meditation is a practice that I regularly revisit. Pandora adds some variety to what develops. During my lunchbreaks, I may focus in on an "Engima" station while holding pieces of clear quartz between my fingers. While focusing on stably holding the crystals in place, I immerse myself in songs by Enya, Mazzy Star, and Enigma's "Principles of Lust". at home, I add a satin sleep mask to limit the stimuli more to the auditory. Listening to stations focused on bands like Paramore, Judas Priest, and S Club 7 help me center, while also having a musical afterglow from the vibe of the music. While some people use controlled substances to destress, I'm perfectly fine with hour of me, Grateful Dead recordings, and an otherwise dark space.
With my particularly deep love for acoustic music, "American Beauty" was my first Grateful Dead CD. The "Operator" by Ron "Pigpen" McKernan has not aged as well as Jim Croce's song by the same name, but there are other songs that I find so timeless in that album. "Ripple" remains a testament of Jerry Garcia's music to carry on his intentions and presence long after he separated from this corporal plane. The music carrying on his voice through the "harp unstrung" and filing the air. Such mystical philosophies were likely part of why Jefferson Airplane credited Garcia as a spiritual advisor. That, and them being Bay Area contemporaries. Interested in the iconic illustrations from the iconic Berkeley Boneparte studio, I next picked up the (Skull and Roses) self-entitled album that collected 1971 recordings from live shows. Opening that treasure trove, "Bertha", "Playing in the Band", and "Not Fade Away" just flew out, and became regular's on my little iPod Shuffle's playlists. You end up sticking around for Grateful Dead's covers of "Mama Tried" and Johnny B. "Goode". By this point, I had begun getting more elaborate with my yearly pumpkin carvings. I interpreted the "American Beauty" cover through backlit pumpkin, and was so proud to show the "cover" to the album's original illustrator (and former member of Berkeley Bonaparte) Stuart Mouse. With a great response and approval. The next stop was "Terrapin Station", and I'm just now imagining alternative where the Ninja Turtles are watching over an MTA subway station in New York. Like an athlete listening to music as a ritual to psyche up for a game, I would often listen to "Terrapin Station" on public transit as I made my way to church services. "Estimated Prophet" very new age for a church-goer, but then again, so was I. With a Bob Weir song about Samson and Delilah, Grateful Dead music may be an even more fitting way to prep for church. The most recent Grateful dead album that's made an impact on me is "Working Man's Dead". There was a co-worker of mine who had travelled all the way from Hawaii to Boston for college, and stuck around. Us both being fans of folk rock and picking, we'd share music recommendations with each other. It was through her that I learned about Makana and the slack-key guitar playing style. My friend told me that there is a second acoustic Grateful dead album that I'd probably enjoy. I could particularly get into "New Speedway Boogie" and "Uncle John's Band" (all that time, I had thought that Jimmy Buffett had written the song" It closes with a railway piece titled "Casey Jones".
Some 10 years later, I was seeing a 60's SF double-header. The Friday night show featured Jorma Kaukonen playing at Boston's City Winery. Jorma is a guitar "picker" who I have been a big fan of since my university days. In fact, I credit Jorma Kaukonen and Paco de Lucîa are the two guitarists who I'd credit for getting ,e so interested in picking. In the middle of Jefferson Airplane's album "Surrealistic Pillow", Kaukonen introduced the public to "Embryonic Journey" (a piece that Kaukonen composed in his early 20's). "Embryonic Journey" is this timeless instrumental that you may have likely heard int the background of the final scene in the sitcom "Friends". That scene that just shows all the keys left on the counter of what had been Monica's apartment. Lightning struck twice when Jorma was performing with the strings group Hot Tuna. This outfit comprised of violinist Papa John Creach and Airplane bandmates Jack Casady and Kaukonen. In Hot Tuna's first album "Burgers" (1972), "Water Song" was a lovely gem of a song. Closing your eyes, you can see fingers moving up and down through the neck, as different notes draw from different frets. That may sound standard to you, but with Jorma, there's a distinct art as he moves to different frets in the midst of composition that could only sound more fluid if it was played with Hawaiian "slack key" tuning.
Seeing Jorma in person, I thought of this 83 year old's career. How this same man was a fixture in 60's San Francisco, and a performer at Woodstock. One Halloween, I was discussing guitarists with Michael Selletto of Newbury Street's Fairy Shop, and found out about a special livestream concert that Jorma was broadcasting from his Fur Peace Ranch in Ohio. All of that had led up to a special night of acoustic blues. Like when Denny Laine (of Wings and the Moody Blues) came to town earlier this year, we as an audience were gifted with a one man show. With a short intermission in between, there were two strong halves filled with combinations of instrumentals and songs where Kaukonen sung in a low toned rhythm. "Embryonic Journey" wasn't played, but I did hear some flirtation with "Water Song"
My emotional high was already continuing to build for the next day. I had picked out my outfit, purchased some facepaint, and got a flat fold N95 respirator mask (in case the smoke got too thick, my lungs would be less at risk). Feeling like a rock star in a dressing room. I was busily working on a recreation of the Grateful Dead's "skull & lightning bolt" logo, using my tee shirt as a guide. Attempting something this detailed on my face gives me even more admiration for Jo Steel's makes videos, going with the theme of Pride Month, I made the design utilize the colors of the transgender flag. After the LA Dodgers' front office had originally snubbed the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence for their practice if drag, a part of me wondered if a trans flag would've been too provocative for the Fenway Group on a night other than the Red Sox' officially designated Pride Night. My facepaint stuck out less as I got closer to a train heading directly to Kenmore Square. While there were some groups of people selfishly doing whatever they could to be the first in through the gates (it's antithetical for the Dead and Co., but this also comes when a big ticket act draws more casual fans looking for an excuse for excess). Though that was disheartening, I did enjoy seeing the communal celebration even outside the stadium as people enjoyed even the wait. The expected rain of the day had already come and gone, but there was a lot of sun beating down on the grandstand sections to the right of the right field foul line. People weren't just cheering when Bob Weir, John Mayer, Mickey Hart, or the rest of the band would come out, but even for the clouds providing some relief as they drifted in front of the sun. The first half of the concert was mainly psychedelic blues rock jams, which suited me fine. I was sitting back, enjoying the opportunity to see musicians that had such an effect on my musical interest, and Mayer's involvement added to the night. I hadn't seen him before, but have been a great fan of both his singles and when he's just rocking out on stage. It was during that first half that I found exactly how enviable my seat was. Some guy in attendance with a female companion had already been sitting nearby. He steps over to me, holds out his phone at something of a distance, and politely says "Excuse me. '7' is my seat.". I hold up my own ticket (via phone apps) and politely point out that his ticket is for an entirely different row. No longer wanting to follow along with what any ticket said,, this guy sits down next to me (with his friend on the other side". I'll tell you that I've dealt with (figurative) douchebags of this type, and I knew that a lot of it was his trying to posture and impress the woman who he was with. I get back to watching the concert, and this thick cloud of marijuana smoke billows in my face. this wasn't a case of being merely downwind from someone. This dink was literally blowing smoke in my face, trying to get me to vacate the seat that I had paid for, in a section that he likely wasn't supposed to be in to begin with. Maintaining ladylike politeness, I calm reach into my crossbar, and properly dawn my N95. I was willing to stay masked up however long it took to outlast my rude neighbor's blunt. Coincidence or not, it wasn't long after I donned my N95 that the guy extinguished his joint and moved to another row (with his date in tow).
I was able to meet with some family members during the intermission. The second half brought music that I recognized more. With Grateful Dead recordings, the songs often seem to meld together in my listening experience. And I feel like part of the live show mission statement of the band (and the Grateful Dead before them) was to create a communal experience of mass guided meditation on the moment & art. "New Speedway Boogie" began the second half, and by time that the stadium's worth of fans were chanting along with "Terrapin Station", I got the full cathedral sense of the Grateful Dead show experience (especially on such a scale). Concerts can have a way with bringing together people for a communal love-in (not so much in the orgy sense of the term), but more on a spiritual level, and one of kinship. The show reached point of duet of the Dead' drumming tandem, and a subsequent piece called "Space". In all of that psychedelic abstraction, video projections depicted hallucinatory visualizations. Behind me, some guy was transfixed with his little plastic dinosaur, and the guy in front of me was generously passing around his joint to anyone who wanted to take a hit. The dink & the date were gone, and the recreational drug use in my section had been cleansed of his passive aggressive malice and bullying. I declined the offer of marijuana, and in good faith hoped that everyone got home okay at the end of the night. The older gentleman exclaimed in stoned bewilderment that he "survived the movie", as the band started playing "Black Peter". Nearing the end, the band broke out one of the better known singles in "Casey Jones", with all the Deadheads joining along in the singalong. Appropriately for the day of the week, the closing number was "One More Saturday Night". Not wanting the night to end, fans stayed put, hopefully watching the stage until the lights fully turned back on.
As people patiently exited Fenway Park, people were laughing at the stench as some nitrous balloons were being blown up past capacity. Even in exiting, everyone that I saw was having a great time, were chatting with strangers, and enjoying the moment. I was experiencing firsthand what Jerry Garcia had described about the sense of community among the Deadhead subculture. With the Boston Police managing crowd control and safe exit routes for the concert goers, it was a little more complicated when trying to find my way back to the T. I ended up walking in the direction of the "Fenway" Green Line station until I could clearly see the landmark Citgo sign along the cityscape, and joined the many following it back to Kenmore Square. I thought that the Red Line cars from Boston Calling were packed, but the Green Line cars had even less space to offer. Even with the newly derived trolley cars. I saw this woman holding a ceramic urn in her arms, a quivering lip on her face, and a friend's arm around her shoulder. I thought that it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she may have brought a departed friend to the concert. We boarded the second train to enter the station. The doors shut behind this emotionally overcome woman, and she opens the lid. ... "Does anyone want some cookies?" she asks as she holds some homemade M&M cookies. The urn was clever ruse to bring munchies (and maybe something more) to the show. As the train made it's way in the direction of Park Street Station, I asked an aging hippie if he wanted a spare seat, and he declined, saying that he was getting off shortly. With an estimate of how long he's been listening to this genre of music, I mention that I had just seen Jorma Kaukonen. This stranger was surprised that Kaukonen's still touring, and asked to see a photo. He said that Jorma hasn't changed that much since he had last seen him play about 9 years earlier. This older music fan explained that he was mostly attending as a guitar fan, and we geeked out together, talking about the Grateful Dead, Jorma Kaukonen, Jeff Beck, Led Zeppelin, some heavier metal, Dick Dale, and the Ventures. I told him about how I just got an e-mail promoting a new Ventures album, and he got excited. I got a rough idea of his age when hearing that the Ventures' recordings were played at his high school dances.
On a surf rock kick, I listened to a Ventures-centric Pandora station for the rest of the way home. Occasionally, more recent acts would come across like the Blue Sting Rays and Daikaiju. Daikaiju's "Laser Runner" actually reminded me of some music from Jeff Beck's 70's work. I cooked some enchiladas from Amy's Kitchen, and watched an episode of the Nanny as I planned for my next adventure.
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