Friday, January 30, 2015

Another Grateful Week

Couldn't be happier about the book's reception this week. This is definitely the fun part. Brisk business on Amazon, and my agent told me that No Simple Highway made the San Francisco Chronicle's regional bestseller list for nonfiction. (I have an embarrassing story about my attempts to place the Ramparts book on that list. Maybe another time.)

I just listened to this segment hosted by Liz Saint John for Alice 97.3's Weekend Magazine. I really like the way it came out. Thanks, Liz!

I'm looking forward to a KPFA spot today (Jan. 31) with David Gans and the Grateful Dead Marathon). KPFA and other Bay Area radio stations (KMPX, KSAN, KFOG, even KYA) figure significantly in the book, of course. My chat with David today will start at noon. I also plan to work the telephones during pledge drive and will return in March to chat with Brian Edwards-Tiekert.

On February 1, I'm traveling to one of the Dead's sacred sites (Cornell University) for some unrelated business. Maybe I'll light a candle at Barton Hall. Then back to it on Tuesday.

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Thursday, January 29, 2015

I Can Be Shamed Productively

I chatted it up this morning with Michael Krasny on KQED Forum. (I'm a longtime listener, first-time guest.) It went well, but a caller asked about Joan Osborne, and I totally blanked. A producer told me not to worry; they had already gone to their pledge drive, and only listeners who paid for pledge-free programming heard my reply.

I decided to make this a teachable moment, especially for me. Here's more on Joan Osborne, for all the fanatical readers of this blog who don't already know about her and her work.

She joined forces with the surviving members of the Grateful Dead when they regrouped to tour in 2003 as The Dead, sang with Motown's legendary Funk Brothers in the acclaimed 2002 documentary Standing in the Shadows of Motown, and produced two albums for the great blues trio the Holmes Brothers. She's shared stages with a wide range of performers, including Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Emmylou Harris, Patti Smith, Melissa Etheridge, Taj Mahal, Luciano Pavarotti and the Chieftains. More recently, Osborne has toured and recorded as a member of Trigger Hippy, which also includes rising Americana star Jackie Greene and Black Crowes drummer Steve Gorman.

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Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Shelf Awareness Review of No Simple Highway

Shelf Awareness is a go-to review site for the book industry, so it's especially cool that they've endorsed No Simple Highway. This from Rob LeFebvre:

The Grateful Dead's long, strange trip has influenced several generations of music lovers around the world. Peter Richardson (A Bomb in Every Issue) takes a cultural viewpoint to the 30-year musical career of this lasting group of misfits and druggies, revealing them as intelligent, thoughtful, passionate individuals.

The Grateful Dead is more than a band, it's a community of likeminded musicians, stage crew, sound experts and incredibly loyal fans that remains vibrant today, nearly 20 years after the group's official disbanding when reluctant leader and lead guitarist/vocalist Jerry Garcia died in 1995 (and as the surviving members of the group plan a reunion concert this summer). Richardson delves deep, showing the band and its various musical and business enterprises as truly revolutionary endeavors. No Simple Highway concerns itself with the relevance of the band's jam-based, best-heard-live musical style, looking at the group's 1960s inception in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco, its country-music-influenced middle period, and its final massive success in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Richardson avoids romanticizing Garcia & Co., preferring instead to offer a story in vivid detail and let the reader make up his or her own mind about the drugs, the parties, the communal living and the anti-authoritarian, audience-focused stance the Grateful Dead held throughout its career. No Simple Highway offers a complete look at why this influential group was able to become one of the biggest rock bands of all time. --Rob LeFebvre, freelance writer and editor

Discover: An exhaustively researched and entertaining cultural history of one of the most successful yet resolutely iconoclast musical groups ever.

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Day of the Living Dead

Lots of radio this morning and yesterday. Here are two representative samples: a long chat with the lovely and inspiring Rose Aguilar at KALW, and a snappier exchange with Ryan Gatenby on WBIG in Aurora, Illinois. I also appeared on nine other shows between 6 and 8 this morning.

Then there's the Dean Russo image, which I love, based on Baron Wolman's photograph. I was lucky enough to visit with Baron, who was Rolling Stone's first chief photographer, near his home in Santa Fe. The Dead attracted many superb photographers--and poster artists--to their project over the years.

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Sunday, January 25, 2015

NO SIMPLE HIGHWAY Is Amazon's #1 Best Seller in Rock Music

We had a great first week on the book front with events at Diesel, The Booksmith, and the California Historical Society plus interviews on KGO ("The Pat Thurston Show"), NPR ("On Point") and WDET in Detroit ("The Ann Delisi Show").

Next week is also shaping up well. CBS Radio is tomorrow, KALW is Tuesday, the Premiere Radio Tour will tape Wednesday, KQED Forum will air on Thursday, and I'll appear on KPFA's Grateful Dead Marathon on Saturday. I'm also looking forward to the Book Passage event in Corte Madera on Wednesday at 7 pm. I'll be joined there by Paul Liberatore of the Marin Independent-Journal.

The announcement of the Chicago shows certainly raised the book's profile. Honestly, I don't know how St. Martin's Press pulled that off just four days before the official publication date! But as we all know, it's better to be lucky than good. In any case, I'm delighted that No Simple Highway is Amazon's #1 Best Seller in Rock Music right now, and I want to thank everyone who has supported the book so far. Please don't stop!

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Tuesday, January 20, 2015

The Eagle Has Landed

Today I celebrated the official publication date of No Simple Highway with a lengthy interview with Tom Ashbrook of NPR's "On Point." Gotta say I like these long formats; you can cover a lot of ground without sacrificing key detail. Also, Tom was knowledgeable about and sympathetic to the Dead's project.

Tonight I'll give a talk at Diesel bookstore on College Avenue in Oakland. I want to leave time for a lively Q&A, so I have to make some tough decisions. But mostly I want to celebrate.

Finally, San Francisco State University ran a related article on the book. Thank you, Jonathan Morales!

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Sunday, January 18, 2015

No Simple Highway Drops This Week

Lots of book news to report since the last update. Paul Liberatore wrote this piece about No Simple Highway and the Grateful Dead in Marin. Some of our Marin friends were surprised (alarmed?) to see my mug over their morning coffee.

Jonah Raskin's review runs in the Chronicle today. Fanatical readers of this blog will recall that Jonah also reviewed the Ramparts book for the Chronicle. Also, Truthdig ran an excerpt--on the media reaction to Jerry Garcia's death--just in case you want to wet your beak.

We have some events this week: Diesel Books (Tuesday), The Booksmith (Wednesday), and the California Historical Society (Thursday). Paul and I will talk it over at Book Passage next Thursday, too. See event details at the Amazon author page. Please help us celebrate!

Lots of radio interviews, too, starting tonight at 5 pm on KGO's "The Pat Thurston Program." NPR's "On Point" is Tuesday morning. Details to come.

And of course the real news--that the core four will perform in Chicago this summer--broke the Internet.

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Tuesday, January 06, 2015

Amazon and KALW Are on the Bus

Just learned that Amazon named No Simple Highway a Best Book of the Month in the history category. Very gratifying for me and the whole St. Martin's team.

Now I'm listening to KALW's "Crosscurrents," which has put together a wonderful show on the Dead that includes a recording of Joe Smith interviewing Jerry Garcia; a segment on our OLLI course at the Freight & Salvage; and an interview with Richard Loren, who managed the Dead and recently published his memoir. Very worthwhile.

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Friday, December 12, 2014

Harper's review of No Simple Highway

Here's Christine Smallwood's review of No Simple Highway, from the January issue of Harper's magazine. It tails off at the end as she segues to the next book of interest.

There were dozens of hippie acts in Haight-Ashbury in the late 1960s, but most people have only heard of a few: Jefferson Airplane, Santana, Janis Joplin, and the Grateful Dead. At the time, Jefferson Airplane was the most commercially successful, and the Dead the least. The Dead never had a Billboard number-one single, though the Library of Congress eventually declared “Truckin’” a national treasure. Shakedown Street went gold, but nine years after its release. They toured for thirty years, but didn’t become the top-grossing band in North America until 1991, their twenty-sixth year together. Why?

That’s the question behind Peter Richardson’s new book, NO SIMPLE HIGHWAY: A CULTURAL HISTORY OF THE GRATEFUL DEAD (St. Martin’s Press, $26.99). Jerry Garcia’s own explanation was cute—he said the band was like licorice: not everybody likes it, but people who like it really like it—but hardly enough to satisfy a historian. As you might expect from the author of books about the Bay Area radical magazine Ramparts and progressive intellectual Carey McWilliams, Richardson’s story of the Dead is a story of the Sixties and its aftermath. One strand of the Sixties, anyway, whose benchmarks include Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters; Woodstock and the Summer of Love; the Whole Earth catalog and the Whole Earth ’Lectronic Link (WELL) bulletin board, which spawned digital communities of Dead Heads as well as Wired magazine. By the time of 1995’s Tour from Hell, this version of the Sixties was a marketable commodity, and Bloomingdale’s had sold hundreds of thousands of $28.50 neckties from the J. Garcia Art in Neckwear collection.

Richardson writes with the enthusiasm of a recent convert, which he is. (He’s also a card-carrying member of the Grateful Dead Scholars Caucus—they’re like tapers, only they trade conference papers.) He paints the Dead as a utopian experiment in a long American tradition; they were occasionally forced to compromise, but only when one of their ideals thwarted another one. They wanted to run their own record label, but operating a business took them away from making music. They wanted to partake of an ecstatic, intimate experience with their audience, but they also relied on a huge crew—a family, really—of seventy-five; if everyone was going to eat, they were going to play stadiums. Richardson celebrates the group’s “hedonistic poverty” but also quotes Dead historian Dennis McNally as to the band’s late-Seventies needs: “Phil [Lesh] had his Lotus sports car, [Bill] Kreutzmann had his ranch, Mickey [Hart] wanted equipment for the studio, Keith [Godchaux] and Jerry wanted drugs.” They weren’t just an obscenely gifted group of musicians: they were a social institution, an egalitarian commune, and a traveling circus—a modern-day Buffalo Bill’s Wild West. They operated on a massive scale, sometimes pouring 90 percent of their revenue into a seventy-five-ton sound system that filled four semitrailers. “We’re in the transportation business,” Mickey once said. “We move minds.”

Having your mind moved is not always a pleasant experience. (Ask Mickey’s horse, which he liked to dose before riding.) People who attended the earliest Dead shows describe them as scary, even terrifying. The band had a harder blues-rock sound then, and everyone was flying. The mix of ego-disappearing drugs and time-disintegrating jams was a heady one. In later years, when the melodies mellowed, the vibe was still heavy. Robert Hunter’s lyrics were usually about suffering and sorrow and death, while John Perry Barlow’s poems, which Bob Weir sang, were abstract—creepy in a different way. Jerry didn’t like love songs, at least not ones with happy endings. He also didn’t like politics. “For me, the lame part of the Sixties was the political part, the social part,” he explained in 1989. “The real part was the spiritual part.”

The Dead, like the Hells Angels who rolled with their crew, were fundamentally outlaws. They knew that getting high, or “getting conscious,” could get you into dark corners. “We’re kinda like a signpost,” Jerry said, “and we’re also pointing to danger, to difficulty. We’re pointing to bummers.” You can get a good sense of what a bummer is in a one-minute scene toward the end of the documentary Gimme Shelter. Jerry and Phil have just landed at the Altamont Raceway to learn that Marty Balin of Jefferson Airplane has been punched out by one of the Angels, who were working security for the festival. “Oh, that’s what the story is here?” Jerry says from behind his yellow sunglasses. “Oh, bummer.” Hours later, an eighteen-year-old black man named Meredith Hunter was stabbed to death by the Angels while the Rolling Stones played “Under My Thumb.” Jerry never blamed the bikers for the melee. He attributed it to “spiritual panic,” as well as the “anonymous, borderline, violent street types” in the crowd—the kind who “may take dope, but that doesn’t mean they’re Heads”—and, perhaps most suspicious of all, “the top-forty world.”

Richardson idealizes the members of the band as exemplars of integrity who rarely feuded, but times were not always easy. Three keyboardists died along the way, including Ron “Pigpen” McKernan; Mickey took a three-year hiatus after his father embezzled thousands of dollars from the group; Jerry developed a frightening heroin problem and, after his 1986 coma, had to entirely relearn how to play guitar. By that time, being a Dead Head was less about the actual music performed by the Grateful Dead and more about college students chasing a shadow of the old, weird America, and boomers remembering their good days, forever gone. Reggae, disco, New Wave, glitter rock, and punk all came and went, and still the Dead were exploring their particular stew of white roots rock, bluegrass, blues, folk, and country. When I started high school, Bill Clinton had long made it a habit to give away J. Garcia ties, and being into the band—like being into Hendrix or the Beatles—had become ossified as a life stage. In youth culture, ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny, and teenagers since the Sixties have passed through the Sixties; they just tend not to remain there. What made the Dead special was that they never left. Why would they? “We’re basically Americans, and we like America,” Jerry said. “We like the thing about being able to express outrageous amounts of freedom.”

To hear Richardson tell it, the Dead were tuned-in Kilroys, on hand to midwife the births of poster art, band merchandising, the free-form album-based radio format, the—might as well say it—Internet, and, best of all, what is now a key cultural formation: the rock-concert light show. He credits an art professor named Seymour Locks, who swirled and rotated hollow slides and plastic dishes of pigment in a projector during the Dead’s set at the 1966 Trips Festival. Something was in the air, though, because around the same time, artist Bill Ham was programming kinetic murals at the Red Dog Saloon in Nevada, and Mark Boyle and Joan Hills were projecting chemical reactions in London. (Their machine also turned colors into sounds.) …

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Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Kirkus Review of No Simple Highway

The good people at St. Martin's Press forwarded this review of No Simple Highway from Kirkus, the book review magazine and website. It will post online December 15 and appear in the January 1 issue of the magazine.

Far-ranging look at the ultimate jam band in the acid-drenched context of their formative years. Richardson (Humanities/San Francisco State Univ.) opens his account, fittingly, with a look deep within the pages of Aldous Huxley's The Doors of Perception, a book that "recounted a single day in the life of an English intellectual tripping on mescaline in and around his Hollywood home." Intellectual, hallucinogen, California: Voilà, the ingredients of the Grateful Dead, a band born in the heady Bay Area coffeehouse, bookstore and Beat poetry heyday. Richardson wisely locates the band within that tradition, allowing for lashings of British Invasion pop and old blues and for the particular eccentricities the region has always permitted. The author ascribes much of the culture change of the 1960s to the Dead's discovery that, if they were the weirdest of all the guys in Frisco, there were plenty of like-minded weirdos around the country. In the days before the Internet, connecting with those people and building communities required constant touring, and so the band also became as known for its dedicated work-shopping and endless roadwork as for its devotion to the lysergic arts. It's now more than half a century since the band began to form, so one supposes that it's necessary, as Richardson does, to explain who Ed Sullivan was and why Harry Smith's folk anthology was so important to the nascent counterculture. Along the way, the author raises such important matters as the ascent of Ronald Reagan, Jerry Garcia's opposite in nearly every respect, and the role of the Dead as both cultural interpreters and cultural pioneers, a role that is very real, no matter what one might think of hourlong jams on variations of "Johnny B. Goode." Not quite as smartly conceived and written as Greil Marcus' Invisible Republic (1997), but a kindred book that helps locate an influential musical group in time and place.

I admire and drew from Greil Marcus's Invisible Republic (aka The Old, Weird America), and though I think the two books' aspirations are different, I wouldn't dream of denying the kinship.

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