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Michael Gaiman is a little crazy when I reach him. At the time he was getting
ready to go to Europe with Jefferson
Starship where he will serve as their soundman and manager. Over several decades,
Gaiman has put together rock shows on college campuses, produced albums and managed
to assemble a number of fine ensembles to perform the music of the Grateful Dead
and later Pink Floyd. He is a roughhewn visionary with strong opinions and a knapsack
full of rich tales. Through Jazz Is Dead
and Blue Floyd he channeled his vision of
the music into many fine players including modern day guitar hero Jimmy Herring.
Michael
took time to speak with us just as the newest line-up of Jazz Is Dead had been
assembled for a tour built around a re-imagined Europe ’72, the landmark
LP that put the Grateful Dead on the map as an international live act to be
reckoned with. The album celebrates its 30th anniversary this year and I can
think of few better ways to honor the freewheeling spirit that fueled the original
performances than taking the songs out for a fresh drive. The band this time
includes legendary jazz drummer Billy Cobham, T Lavitz of the
Dixie Dregs (and for a brief time Widespread
Panic), Little Feat bassist Kenny
Gradney and guitarist about town Jeff
Pevar. This group will play the entire double disc set each night.
Pull up a chair, pour yourself a cup of coffee and light up one of those funny looking cigarettes while we explore one of the stronger, more fractuous side roads of the Dead’s legacy.
Dennis Cook: Give me some idea where Jazz Is Dead first came from. When you did you first come up with this idea?
Michael
Gaiman: The actual genesis involves an off color story. In 1996, I produced
the last Jefferson Starship studio album and it was really really like passing
a kidney stone. It’s a fine record and at the end of the day it was not promoted
well by its label. When the record was done I did a yearlong sabbatical. Bill
Graham had made me their manager. During that time Melvin Seals and
John Kahn both called me to see if I could do something for them in terms
of the Garcia Band. Everyone had turned them down. I said I would think about
it and looked around for a name. I researched the copyright for a nickname all
of us of Deadheads used to call the Garcia Band which was J.G.B. and I said
to those guys if we pick out 80 or so songs and you play two sets and we get
the old gang together then we would do really well. And that’s what we did for
the Fall of ’97 and we did extremely well. Melvin then got greedy and fired
all his good musicians. He said to me, “I’m Garcia now.” After these experiences
of a record and this project that both kinda got away from me, I decided if
I could come up with a project that had a clear vision and an understanding
with the musicians then it would be more successful.
Read Melvin Seals' Rebuttal
I
had a dream that Fall about Billy
[Cobham]
playing at Radio City Music Hall. I had worked putting together all the Grateful
Dead college shows ‘77-’82 and I’d also booked all the Bobby & The Midnites
college shows and Jack Bruce & Friends for whom Billy was the drummer. Billy
played on Halloween on the Franken & Davis video night. I thought Billy could
play anything. If - God forbid - Billy [Kreutzman] or Mickey [Hart] should pass
away, Cobham could step right in there. It occurred to me that now that the
Dead were gone, remember this was ’97, it would be cool to have a bunch of famous
jazz musicians play the arcane Dead material that the Dead couldn’t get themselves
up for doing because they were too weird and complex. Stuff like “King Solomon’s
Marbles,” “Blues For Allah,” “The Eleven.” They hadn’t done any of these songs
in forever, if ever. “King Solomon’s” only got played at the Great
American when it first came out. The full “Terrapin” only got played once
in ’77 at Winterland. So, I had known that a lot of jazz players had been big
Deadheads when they were younger. Al
DiMeola was a big Deadhead in the sixties. But Billy was where it started
so I called him up in Zurich, where he’s lived for many years. He said we gotta
do it sometime. No, I said, we gotta do it now. I got a ton of frequent flyer
miles and I’m coming to see you tomorrow.
Dennis Cook: As if to say, I got a vision for you and we gotta get moving on this.
Michael Gaiman: On the third day in Zurich we drove around
and saw the sights, talked about musicians, hung out. Finally I said I want
to get Alphonso Johnson, your old buddy from the George Duke Band and
Bobby & The Midnites, to play bass. He said great. I want to hire T Lavitz,
who was almost hired by the Grateful Dead to play keyboards but didn’t get it
because he couldn’t sing. True story, they said you got the gig now let’s do
some vocal harmonies. He said, "I don’t sing" and that was that.
Dennis Cook: What period was that?
Michael Gaiman: Right after Brent [Mydland]
passed away.
So, the period they moved into with Vince Welnick and Bruce Hornsby.
So,
Billy says he’d done a tour with T and asked if he was still funny, funny like
Richard Lewis? Oh yeah. I was thinking about DiMeola as a guitarist and Billy
said let’s not work with Al. Besides, he won’t want to do it. He suggested using
Larry
Coryell. We call him up and he tells us his nephew is a Deadhead and
makes him listen to Garcia all the time so he thinks he can dig his teeth into
this.
Especially fits with Larry’s late ‘60s, early ‘70s stuff.
Eleventh House is truly evocative of late ‘60s Garcia.
It’s steeped in the same drugged fueled improvisation.
Right, especially when Jerry was into having his sound be a little dirty, before he got into the Strato-blaster and all those clean lines in the ‘70s. The late ’60 when he was playing a Gibson, a Les Paul, was very fusiony. As luck would have it things didn’t work out too well. Billy is a fanatically sober individual. He used to be an athlete and he’s very serious. The drug culture was something he was never into even though his music can be pretty far out. So, he says we can’t use Larry, we gotta get another guitarist. And T Lavitz recommended Jimmy Herring. With this thing I wanted to really know who the musicians were, get them under my skin, and I didn’t know Jimmy’s playing at all. He sends me some Aquarium Rescue Unit and it sounds pretty hot. But they were a little odd to me.
I was in the same boat as you. I’d heard Aquarium Rescue Unit but nothing about Jimmy’s playing with them jumped out at me. In retrospect people have spoken really well of the stuff but I’m not sure at the time most people thought that highly of it.
Some people, that H.O.R.D.E generation, maybe that Phish
generation, feel differently but I was not feeling what Jimmy was playing as
it would apply to my optic of the Grateful Dead. The Aquarium Rescue Unit was
structured so what wasn’t solos was funk or like Frank
Zappa. Very pungent, short bursts of brilliance. Now it was coming to the
point where I had to make a decision. And T compares Jimmy to Steve Morse.
I say I’m not really a Dregs fan. Steve Morse is a brilliant player but like
John McLaughlin and Robert Fripp it’s so technical. Jerry Garcia
played from the heart. The mistakes were part of the beauty of it. It was organic.
I didn’t want this to sound like Adrian Belew, like John McLaughlin.
You don’t want a technician. That’s always my standard catchphrase
for guys like this. You can tell they’ve done a lot of woodshedding with training
manuals but there’s no mess to it.
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Photo by J Bau
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I don’t want a machine, I want somebody that can fly by the seat
of their pants and doesn’t sound so rehearsed. So, T says let’s give Jimmy a
shot. Jimmy comes in and says [Gaiman adopts a soft Southern drawl when quoting
Jimmy], “I know one Grateful Dead song and that’s ‘Truckin.’ I never listened
to them. I was listening to jazz and the Allman
Brothers.” I gave them the songs to learn and from the first day of rehearsal
we started with maybe the hardest song we were doing, “King Solomon’s Marbles,”
and Jimmy got it in one pass through. Then it got him, got under his skin. Jimmy
had a sense of humor, he said, “When I play with the Colonel
[Bruce Hampton] he’d tell us to get the disease. But I’d get out there and
the Colonel would pull me back.” I told him go for it, play a 30-minute solo,
play as long as you fuckin’ want. Now, we realized we had lightning in a bottle.
That first tour sold out nearly every date. In 1998 they did about 80 dates
and got a record deal from Zebra/Warner Brothers. They recorded the album Grateful
Dead style, live to no audience. They’d rehearsed three days and could have
done five but I told them to stop. And Billy asks me, “What, are you cheap?”
I said no. Too much rehearsal is gonna spoil this cake. You are such great musicians
that you'll discover it each night as it happens and that will be reflected
in the music. The material was just about everything from Blues For Allah
except “Sage & Spirit” and “Music Never Stopped.” We also did a good chunk of
material the Dead just didn’t perform.
That still seems to be the pattern with Jazz Is Dead.
Now, as years went on, the jamband scene has filled out, Dark
Star [Orchestra] came in. You gotta find your own niche, your own concept.
I applaud Dark Star Orchestra for doing a complete, contiguous Grateful Dead
show every night. But, we endeavor not to be a cover band but an interpretive
ensemble. To wit, one of the brilliant things of Jimmy’s playing was his lead
would be the vocal lead not the Garcia lead.
That’s a great thing to tune into because I hadn’t thought about that. On the live recordings from that tour it does seem like Jimmy is singing except in an instrumental voice.
And
T [Lavitz] would play a lot of what Garcia was playing. Therein would be the
counterpoint. The more subtle nuances of the early weird Weir are there with
the singing and the guitar. And Alphonso isn’t an in-the-pocket kind of bass
player. He was playing 5- and 6-string bass and Champman stick and playing a
lot of lead stuff at the time. It was basically four guys who were so proficient,
I’m not gonna say there was an ego problem, but there was a lot of music being
played. [Laughter from interviewer.] In the second year, Billy also worked with
Peter Gabriel and WOMAD and he couldn’t commit to it. Thankfully the project
then had a life of its own and what we decided to do was hire two drummers like
the Dead with Rob Morgenstein (Dixie Dregs) and Jeff
Sipe, who’d played with Jimmy in the Aquarium Rescue Unit and at the
time was in Leftover Salmon. Sipe was the
best drummer I’d heard outside of Billy (Cobham) and he played on the smallest
kit. He’s a very avant-garde drummer. In his drum solo he’d take apart his entire
kit while he was still playing. He might be hitting his stick on the floor or
his stool. The drums would be all over but then he’d put the sticks in his mouth
and start putting it back together, just hitting the hi-hat for a seconds with
his foot to get both hands free. It was a real piece of work. That summer we
toured with the two drummers and recorded what many consider their favorite
Jazz Is Dead record, Laughing Water, which was all of Wake of the
Flood down Jazz Is Dead style. And we had Donna Godchaux do some
weird stuff on there, Vassar Clements came in and Derek
Trucks.
That was my first taste of Jazz Is Dead, the shows that led up to that record. It was the first time I’d ever heard Derek Trucks as well. So, for me, it was a gateway into a whole other world of musicians.
As a Deadhead there was a selfish aspect in that I wanted to
hear the stuff they’d stopped playing like the intro to “Weather Report Suite.”
Not to get down on Bob Weir, but his guitar
playing earlier is better than what he’s playing in Ratdog.
Jimmy, it’s all music to him. Here we had the whole “Weather Report Suite” with
the steel guitar mimicked intro. Had Jazz Is Dead not done Keith Godchaux’s
“Let Me Sing Your Blues Away,” who’s ever gonna do that? Now we had a whole
second level of music added to the repertoire. Towards the end of Billy Cobham’s
initial tenure we worked up the entire “Terrapin Station” with the whole second
part of the song with the reprise with the drums and staccato guitar, which
may be my favorite thing Jazz Is Dead has done. Then they added 8 more tunes
in the second tour so shows could actually be pretty crazy. Eventually Sipes
started a family, so at the end of that year it didn’t look like he’d be available.
And Phil & Friends were coming together.
I thought it ironic that Phil was now picking material that the Grateful Dead
never touched. I like to think that maybe he saw what we were doing and decided
to do “The Eleven” or “Saint Stephen.”
That brings up a real strong question for me, which is what was the response of the guys in the Grateful Dead to what you were doing?
Interestingly, when I applied for the service mark on Jazz Is
Dead, the laws are very strict on copyright and they could have challenged it.
What they did was send me a letter commending me on the project and the only
thing they asked was that if I died that the project died with me. They know
my love and respect for the music. They didn’t want me to sell it to some label.
They said the only way Jazz Is Dead can exist is if I do it. They were really
generous about it and gave us a good rate on the publishing. At the same time,
at the end of the second year, I said to Jimmy once that one of these days Phil
is going to call you up and that’ll be the last I’m gonna hear from you. And
he says, “No, Michael, we’re buddies, we’re friends. That could never happen.”
Of course, Phil called him up and I haven’t spoken to Jimmy much since his whirlwind
success with Phil & Friends.
And now he’s been lifted up to play with The Other Ones, which is a strange thing to me because I think he’s a poor fit for that line-up.
The fans call him "Jerry Herring." My wife, who is
not a Deadhead but is a musician and has a good ear, was listening to the tapes
of Alpine Valley [the site of the recent Other Ones reunion shows] and she said,
“Is this Jimmy light?” I had to laugh because relative to what Jimmy did in
Jazz Is Dead, where there was no singing and the lead guitar could just shred
for the entire song, this was light. Of course, the Grateful Dead, a big part
of what they do is the vocals so Jimmy is bridled and contained. It’s true even
in Phil & Friends because you have Warren
[Haynes], another guitarist who I never thought was compatible
with that music. He’s a great blues player and he’s got that Allman Brothers,
Les Paul style but with his vocal ability and personality Phil obviously dug
him. I guess The Other Ones didn’t need a third guitarist basically. I take
some pride in the fact that Jimmy doesn’t play as great in The Other Ones as
he did in Jazz Is Dead. Obviously I’m biased.
Who have you found is the audience for Jazz Is Dead? Especially
in the early days, was the crowd Deadheads or jazz heads?
I think in the cities where jazz has always done well, I’m thinking
New York and Philadelphia in particular, it was probably 50/50. When to get
to Colorado and California then it was a lot more Deadheads than jazz fans.
I think a lot of the younger fans, the String
Cheese and Phish fans, didn’t get that there were no vocals. The irony is
that a lot of hardcore jazz fans hate the Grateful Dead so they didn’t give
us a chance. And a lot of Deadheads hate jazz so they didn’t give us a chance.
The band doesn’t make nearly what the other jam bands make. From a financial
standpoint, we make decent money but it’s not what String Cheese makes, it’s
not the tribal phenomenon of some of the younger bands. I say with some pride,
and nothing against those other bands, this is a small batch whiskey, this is
a microbrew, it’s not Budweiser, it’s not even Sam Adams. It’s a much much narrower,
defined thing.
Photo by Tony Bittick
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That’s a perfect metaphor for it. I sense that you don’t even intend for this
to be a project that appeals to everyone.
At the end of the day, and I’m probably a terrible businessman
for doing it, different people even in the band suggest we might want to do
some vocals. In fact, when Jimmy left, David Crosby guitarist Jeff
Pevar came on board. He's a guitarist of a different sort. On the 2001
tour, we went with a concept more suited to Pevar’s Michael Hedges style playing.
We went out with what I called “Workingman’s Beauty,” all material from American
Beauty and Workingman’s Dead reworked Jazz Is Dead style. Pevar’s
a pretty good singer and succumbing to pressure I asked him if he wanted to
sing these songs. He wanted to stay true to the original concept of no vocals.
We thought about it a lot and we decided to do two tunes. Pevar would sing “New
Speedway Boogie” and we did a few “Ripples” as encores.
That was a dynamite tour. I saw the show at Yoshi's. That’s such a listening hall and everyone had their ears wide open at that show.
It had found it’s audience because here was a third incarnation of the band and a third set of material and it hit the road without a famous name like Billy Cobham. We didn’t have Jimmy Herring, the newly anointed famous player. It was definitely what I describe in a theory I have called the Modular Band Theory, an old time jazz thing where it’s not about the specific musicians it’s about the abilities of the players at any given time.
In Part Two of our conversation with Michael Gaiman he talks about Blue Floyd and the latest Jazz Is Dead line-up heading out to reinterpret the landmark Grateful Dead live release, Europe ’72
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