"Is it live, or is it Memorex?"

Author's note: As I've been preparing for my Patreon launch, I realized this piece was not included in the "Grateful Dead Theology Project" blog post, thanks to hungry internet monsters eating that blog many years ago. So I'm reposting it here. This is the original PRE-EDITED version of my submitted essay which was eventually published as “Furthur in Concert, Memory, and Media: 6 October 2012,” in Dead Studies,Volume 3, Grateful Dead Archive, University Library, UC Santa Cruz, ed. Nicholas Meriwether, ©2013. 

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"Is it live, or is it Memorex?" *

A short study in listening perspectives: Review of Furthur in LA, 10/6/12

Many of us remember the television commercial from the 80's: a "hip" man, donning sunglasses and fancy threads, reclining comfortably in a posh chair listening to a high-grade stereo system. As the volume crescendos, his hair and necktie — not to mention the lampshade beside him—are physically affected by the music, as if a forceful gust of wind were emanating from the stereo speakers. The music is crystal clear, as is the implication of that now-famous pop cultural reference: this recording, as well as the medium on which it is presented, is so pristine and polished that one cannot tell the difference between a live and recorded performance.

(*For the purposes of this study, I am not speaking about the actual Memorex corporation, as much as using their timeless slogan to portray the ability to record music in general.)

In the song Saint of Circumstance, Bob sings, "This a'int the real thing, but it's close enough to pretend," a longtime favorite lyric of many a deadhead (not to mention a lyric that has taken on more poignant meaning since Garcia's death— as is the case with many a Dead lyric.) Recently, to celebrate my 40th birthday, I went in search of a chance to pretend that I was near "the real thing," traveling to the West Coast for some Furthur shows. So, I embarked on a"mini-tour," this one encompassing three consecutive nights: Las Vegas, NV (10/4) and Los Angeles, CA (10/5 and 10/6). When a friend heard of this plan, he asked if I would be interested in reviewing one of the shows. I gratefully accepted. As if my birthday trip wasn't already spectacular (3 Furthur shows, followed by a 5-day cruise to Mexico), I was humbled to know that there is still an audience for my thoughts and feelings about the Dead phenomenon — which has been in existence now for almost half a century.

And, speaking of audiences, the requested review came with suggested guidelines: to compare three different listening perspectives: being present in the audience for the show, versus two separate recordings— one audience (bootleg) recording and the official soundboard recording. This essay is an attempt to delineate the difference between these three different listening experiences — which means I have to weather the laborious process of listening to this band for hours on end. Such a difficult life!

Before we get started, let me go ahead and spoil the ending: live is always better. However, that should not be taken to imply that listening to any form of recording does not have benefits as well. In fact, as we shall see, recordings of shows are quite important for fans of this music.

The Live Experience

This short excerpt from my pre-show notes helps begin to encapsulate the live experience:

"2 hours til show time. I'm trying to catch a catnap on Matt's couch, but there is no rest for the weary. I just saw this band last night some 275 miles away, yet I am as giddy as a preadolescent on Christmas Eve, dreaming of Santa Claus' impending visit and the spoils of this year's gift-giving season. There is an anxious electricity coursing through my veins which I can't recall feeling at this level of anticipation since my high school church youth conference days. But this makes sense to me—this is my new church; it feeds an intense spiritual hunger. It's a traveling tent-revival ceremony for a particular modern populace. These folks are spreading the "gospel" as much as they can, before their time here comes to an end. I wonder if evangelical folks ever get this excited before they even arrive at their churches; for some reason, I doubt it."

Needless to say, I was pretty excited to see Furthur yet again, six shows in total this year. Anyone who has seen a live show knows full well there is no comparison. At a live show, there is so much more going on than just music. For starters, as any deadhead will testify, arguably the world's best tailgating party happens for several hours beforehand. Then, once in the venue, friends—old and new—are present to experience the concert with you. I am in the "nosebleed" seats, which personally I don't mind. There is room to dance, room to smoke, and security is nowhere to be seen—which can't be underestimated, as an overzealous security guard can negatively impact the experience for an entire section of fans. Yet, this show is incredibly relaxed, and the vibe is quite different from east coast shows. LA: we love it!

Many folks have compared Grateful Dead concerts to religious experiences. Now, seventeen years after the fact, I would argue these musicians' live performances have taken on even more religious significance — augmented by the knowledge that this, too, must eventually come to an end. Bolstering this argument is an occurrence that escapes any sound recording: witnessing close to 30 deadheads who snuck through the woods, over the course of the first hour of the show, sliding down an ominous dirt hill behind us, hopping over the wall and careening blindly into the dark bleachers. Perhaps they had to jump a fence as well? These folks are risking serious injury just to see this— their favorite band. A leap of faith? Also visible only to those present: deadheads banding together to help the wall jumpers safely down.

Another aspect found only at live shows: the local flavor. Not just the locale itself, but especially the energy of those around you, individual and collective. Plus, the view, manifesting here at the Greek Theatre as slight mountains peeking over trees behind the stage. A clear sky, right at dusk, spotted with faint cloud coverage. A beautiful evening. Not to mention, beautiful people! During the set break, I wandered around people-watching, and found these two beautiful souls, possibly the oldest and youngest deadheads present, Bob and Ava:

One of the more amazing aspects of this band is the intergenerational nature of the audience, ranging from octogenarians to toddlers in tie-dyes, and all ages in between. I believe this is a testament not only to the integrity of this music, vis-à-vis the ephemeral money-driven drivel that is over-produced in today's popular music economy. It is also a testament to the fact that there is something powerful taking place here — something other. What else might explain such diversity of age, as there are now four generations of fans coming to hear this band? Witnessing such diversity firsthand is part and parcel of understanding the religious nature of this entire phenomenon.

Thus, it is difficult, if not impossible, to convey the live experience through written words. As with any experience, one must ultimately participate firsthand. When listening at home, it is impossible to witness facial expressions of the musicians; to see band members interacting with the audience; the impressive light show; the vista of deadheads swirling and twirling in all corners of the venue; hugs given and received; fluorescent glow-sticks; ecstatic looks shared between friends as an old chestnut is unleashed; and let's not forget that state-of-the-art sound system — which might, on this one night, serve as the medium through which the magic wields its powerful presence. This is where it's at, and there is no equivalent. Yet, thanks to incredible foresight, generosity, and brilliant marketing, we can take a piece of this home with us. Just as I ventured across the country seeking to get as close as possible to "the real thing," there is, of course, another avenue: our friends at Memorex.

The Recorded Experience

Although the live experience is unparalleled, the fact that we can listen to this same show again is arguably one of the top technological wonders of the world. Considering the span of human history, and the presence of live musical performance throughout that history, is it not amazing that for roughly only 100 years, such performances can be appreciated again in the comfort of one's own home? (Even more mind-boggling is the fact that you can now take this recording home immediately after the show!)

Just as the live experience is incomparable, the same could be said for such home listening. There are many aspects to this experience which, likewise, escape the eyes and ears of the concert-goer. As you enjoy a recording of an individual show, the list of factors that make this listening milieu original is also quite impressive:

* you can hear every single note played that given night, which is impossible live

* you can listen in the comfort of your own dwelling

* you can listen by yourself, or invite friends over to share the experience

* you can stop the recording at any point if you need to go to the bathroom, go to the store, etc., and pick up right where you left off

* you can zone in on that "moment" you remember from the live show (at the show: did the magic visit? listening to the recording: YES!)

* if you are a musician, you can play along! (one of my absolute favorite activities these days on mandolin, which i run through a delay pedal.)

Most importantly, you can listen repeatedly to a show, until you can practically memorize it. For my blog postings, i have listened to some of these shows dozens of times within the span of several weeks. Jerry Garcia once made a now-famous comment, likening the Grateful Dead to licorice, and how some people hate licorice, but that those who like it really like it. I would argue that this music is also like an onion: some people hate onions.

But, for those who like onions, there are many layers to get through. And thanks to technology, like peeling back the layers of an onion we can discover something new each and every time we listen to a show. This is the quintessential benefit of listening to the recording of a live show. The only question now is, which one?

The Audience Recording

Long before the dawn of digital Dead, there existed "the bootleg." For many of us, our first exposure to our favorite band was the snap, crackle and pop of some random show from years — even decades ago, emanating from the speakers of a passing VW bug. To be sure, these types of recordings were, for all intents and purposes, pretty bad. Yet, there was something magical about them; that sound was unlike anything we had ever heard. Most musicians and bands that stand the test of time eventually release recordings of live shows. Yet this band, as we all know, was the first to allow— even encourage—their fans to record shows from the audience, and trade those recordings with friends. This led to recordings of recordings of recordings, etc., from the perspective of the audience, which made for some pretty crappy sounding recordings. Yet, just as a tattered, unearthed rare manuscript of a piece of classical music or high literature has affixed value, these third- and fourth-generation bootlegs provide an aural glimpse, albeit distant, into particular events which, like snowflakes, are completely, absolutely inimitable.

So, into 10/6/12 I jump, peeling back the layers of the onion, as recorded by David Barfield.

[For you tapeheads out there, here is the recording info: Audience recording by David Barfield: Schoeps MK4 cardioid microphones (ORTF configuration, 9-foot stand, center, first row behind front-of-house mixing board) > CMC6 > SD744t (24-bit/96 kHz). Lineage: Audacity (spike removal, amplify, fades, tracks) > FLAC24. Taped and transferred by David Barfield. http://archive.org/details/ futhur2012-10-06.furthur2012-10-06_mk4 flac24 (16 January 2013).]

From the perspective of where this recording took place, we get an aural glimpse of not only the music on this night, but the local color mentioned above as well. As with any bootleg, the volume sounds more muted than a soundboard copy, as we are hearing the music exactly as it appeared in this section of the venue. There is a nearby whistle which emanates from the audience clear as a bell, as well as bits and pieces of individual conversations. The applause, whistling, and cheering are more prevalent—you can close your eyes and almost feel yourself part of the audience. The initial response to the first chords of "The Golden Road" is more pronounced, as is the singing along of "hey, hey, HEY!" in the chorus. Also, there is a more noticeable crescendo of approval at the outset of "Music Never Stopped." I would imagine that any audience bootleg of any show will catch some fan hearing their favorite song—and what a joy to hear! You can almost join along in celebration. Somebody's night was just made!

You also hear some in the audience singing along word for word; the clapping after "come on children, come on and clap your hands"; and let's not forget those lyrical catch phrases, which everyone in the audience tends to sing in unison— these are much more noticeable on a bootleg. Finally, this recording was FREE, an added bonus during tough economic times!

So, there you have it. Thanks to the labor and love of David Barfield, I am able to repeatedly peel back the layers and enjoy this musical onion. But, onions often come in bags, and Furthur alone has quite a hefty bag available for public consumption. As much fun as I had listening to this show, documented for present and future generations, it is overwhelming to think that this is merely one show — that there are some 200 more available, each that i can download for free and digest over a period of several weeks. Not to mention well over 2,000 live Grateful Dead shows! I might have to quit my day job.

The Soundboard Recording

Now, whereas there are benefits to the bootleg, a solid soundboard recording is also a welcome participatory experience. First, this source is at the hands of a recording professional, not an amateur. So, in general, this mix is cleaner and more balanced, as well as being recorded on much more expensive equipment. Second, this source is as close as we can get to a polished studio sound, as it somewhat filters out the audience distractions and gets you as near as possible to the music itself. While aspects of the bootleg mentioned above might help the listener imagine the concert experience in toto, some of those elements can be slightly annoying at times. Since we are there to hear live music, it is sometimes distracting to hear conversations continue incessantly throughout a show. And as much of a testament to your dedication it is to hear that you know every word to every song, well, let's just say that i didn't pay money to hear you sing tonight!

This becomes the greatest selling point of the soundboard: the fact that I can experience this show with such clarity and focus, free from distraction. I don't know if it has been said before by our ilk, but this audience needs a behavior manual on concert etiquette. Yes, there are countless individual lines that everybody should sing together, such as "what a long strange trip it's been" and "inspiration, move me brightly," among others. But, please, leave the rest of the singing to the band. We all came to hear them, and folks feeding some insecure need to illustrate how immersed in this subculture they are can be really distracting. At this particular show, I was sitting next to a young woman who was, simply put, incredibly annoying. An obvious neophyte, and noticeably intoxicated, she kept jumping to the final chorus of "Box of Rain" on every single verse. How are we to deal with such persons? I don't want to discourage anyone from participating in this movement, and also know any perceived reprimand in an intoxicated state could come across as really harsh. But, it's a bit of a buzzkill to hear you bumbling through the wrong words on such a classic piece of american folk history! You wouldn't go to a community singalong of Handel's Messiah and sing at a forte through the Hallelujah chorus if you didn't know the Hallelujah chorus. So, please, show the same amount of respect here.

As implied above, though, this soundboard recording is devoid of this intoxicated neophyte; devoid of conversations, whistles, screams and hollers. Save the occasional subdued sounds of audience applause and cheering, there are no noticeable background noises to distract the listener from a pristine listening experience. This is actually the closest one could come to sitting in a rehearsal studio for a live Furthur practice session. And that is unquestionably worth $25 plus the cost of shipping and handling. To be sure, considering the number of times I am lately listening to each Furthur show, each purchase has become quite an investment.

Conclusion

So, we return to our original advertising query: Is it live, or is it Memorex? My answer is, I don't care! I'll take whatever I can get. As stated at the outset, nothing compares to a live show. But whichever way one can experience this music is a worthwhile venture. For anyone who feels the live show to be a religious experience, a recording is a relic—a precious relic to take away in order to feed your soul until the next "service." Christians, Jews, and Muslims gather frequently to worship in their respective communities, but that is usually not the full extent of their devotion. Each religion has a set of holy scriptures, copies of which can provide solace, strength, and comfort until the next congregational gathering. For our community, these live recordings are no different. For those who thrive on hearing and/or experiencing the magic that has emanated from the sound system of these musicians for 47 years, any show available for free download or purchase can serve as a source of inspiration between shows—a canteen of water to carry in the desert, to quench your thirst between the oases where you can refill, refresh and rejuvenate yourself at the spring.

Personally, I thirst fairly easily. I cannot go many days without listening to this band and being touched by the magic — which, i do believe, is experienced not only through the band's speakers, but emanates from my outdated Panasonic CD Stereo System, as well as courses through my brand new Ipod earbuds. No matter the medium, this magic has been preserved for possibly many future generations of Deadheads. This being the case, when the magic chooses to visit a particular concert, then every recording of that concert— soundboard and bootleg alike—becomes an aural documentation of that visit: a musical scripture to see us through until the next congregational gathering.

Here's to hoping there are many more such gatherings, until that point when Bob and Phil are no longer with us; after which our gatherings may be reconstituted, but will still continue — thanks to our friends at Memorex!