RIP Phil

My friends all know my story about the day Jerry died. Of course a few of them had tried to talk me into going to those final Grateful Dead shows in Chicago, but in 1995 my attitude was still ‘fuck the Dead’. Then somebody dies, and a part of you immediately feels at least a little bad for all the terrible things you said about them (Rush Limbaugh being an obvious exception but you know what I mean). Jerry’s death was my inroad to appreciating his life’s work.

That’s another common phenomenon in modern times and there’s no shame in it. With most stars of pop culture, though, all that remains is a stack of records and mp3s or streaming videos or whatever. Where Jerry was concerned, the music never stopped. If all I had at my disposal for the past 30 years was old Dead tapes, I highly doubt I would’ve even bothered. As I used to say, “I missed the boat. I’m fine with that.”

I wouldn’t really have been fine, though, because history matters, context matters, and understanding the world I found myself in, becoming a fan of Phish, would never have been possible without coming to an appreciation of the Dead. And for that appreciation, I owe everything to Phil Lesh.

On one side were the legions of Deadheads who would say ‘you missed Jer, this is all bullshit’ which was very easy for me to accept. I never sought out The Other Ones or any of the offshoots. The very idea of Dark Star Orchestra seemed horrendous. Phish with very rare exceptions don’t play Dead covers. But EVERY other jamband does. Phish lots rang with Dead tapes out of car stereos. Then came Bonnaroo. What was I gonna do, NOT see Phil & Friends?

I’m not saying the mere fact of seeing A Guy From The Dead performing Dead songs in the scorching afternoon sun converted me or anything like that (although that is also a very valid and worthwhile approach to fandom). They didn’t really jam; it was a slow, lazy ramble through a handful of old hits, and it…just kinda felt right. It was summer 2002; Jerry was gone, even Phish were absent, return questionable; at least we had this? A bunch of tunes everybody here could sing along to?

A mere five days later I was back in Milwaukee and Phil & Friends were playing Summerfest and my buddy John had an extra ticket and I STILL had almost no interest in going, but…John was persuasive. And that was the night that, seemingly in opposition to my very nature, I got my clock cleaned by Mr. Lesh and his cohorts. Playing a bunch of decades-old songs, these guys went on deep musical explorations that I’d been led to believe weren’t possible now that the great reluctant hippie messiah was gone.

It couldn’t be just the songs. You couldn’t put an average jamband onstage armed with Dead tunes and expect them to take the audience on such a journey. “We had an adventure here up onstage tonight”, said Phil after coming out for the encore. “We didn’t know where we were at a couple points. And that’s sorta what it’s all about.” I was already old enough to have seen plenty of aged rock stars cashing in on nostalgia. Deep down I figured that’s what all these post-Jerry endeavors were. That night at Summerfest was my first inkling of how wrong I’d been.

There’d be more Phil & Friends shows, there’d be “The Dead” shows, there’d be that time Phil popped in at Trey and Mike and Benevento/Russo’s surprise Superjam at ‘roo ‘06. As the years rolled on I didn’t have to be dragged. I found that it hardly mattered who was playing drums or guitar as long as it was Phil on the bass. More and more he seemed like a shepherd both onstage and in general as a curator of the Dead’s legacy; even in later years it always felt like everyone onstage followed the contours laid down on the bass no matter who was leading the improv. Then again, it may be more accurate to just say that Phil to me was always the most compelling musician to pay attention to.

It turned out that Dead music without Jerry wasn’t necessarily bullshit. The ongoing celebration of his legacy has to be the best way to honor him. It seems these songs continue to connect with younger generations, and that’s thanks to the still-thriving Deadhead community.

How will it be, though, with Phil gone. With Dead & Co. seemingly wrapping up their run. I never did see them. The more I listened to Dead shows, the more I saw Phil play, the more he embodied the truth of the greatness of these songs and the way they unfurled and flowed out into the world, different every time. Nothing against Bobby, I hope I’ll have more chances to see him do his thing with whomever he brings along for the ride. But it was Phil who brought me around, and Phil who kept this whole thing afloat, indoctrinating and integrating younger generations of musicians and fans alike. This, and the whole ‘inventing an entirely new approach to the bass guitar’ thing, cemented Phil as one the most important figures in rock music history as well as in the annals of American counterculture.

I’m at the end of this piece and feeling its inadequacy deeply; there are no words. The loss is hard to process. I may have missed Jerry, but I’m grateful to have caught Phil’s final Chicago show, and to have been in the same rooms and on the same fields as him over the years. It’s interesting how most of the great ones ride their egos to glory; Phil despite his godlike talent and strength of purpose always seemed unintimidating, almost like family. He was one of the primary architects of my world; I feel fortunate to have figured that out. Don’t pass up opportunities to see a legend if you can help it; the rewards might not even dawn on you until decades down the road.