This is the soundtrack of the film Grateful Dawg, which has already appeared in Green Man. You can read David Kidney's excellent review of the film here.
Taken out of their original context, many soundtrack albums are disjointed, disappointing affairs. No such worries with this one. The film is a biopic about the venerable greybeards, so this music is, itself, the central plot, rather than a superfluous tie-in.
There's a spoken word intro (mainly by Grisman) where the principals introduce each other to an audience, before they're away into a live version of the title track. "Grateful Dawg," is an original composition with the stated intent of demonstrating how Garcia's "Dead" music and Grisman's "Dawg," stylings developed from a common (and shared) bluegrass background.
The next track features neither Garcia nor Grisman, but is a performance of "Wayfaring Stranger" by Bill Monroe and his Bluegrass Boys. This serves as both a piece of cap-doffing to the "Father of Bluegrass," and an opportunity to compare and contrast this Grateful Dawg music with it's original inspiration (Garcia and Grisman first met at a Monroe concert in 1964).
"Sweet Sunny South," is a duet (rather than a duel) of Garcia and Grisman's banjos. It's a very well named tune, as it's definitely very sweet and very sunny. Up next is another live introduction, and this time it's the voice of Peter Rowan that we hear.
Rowan was a member of the hugely influential 70's band Old and in the Way, who can claim credit for bringing Bluegrass to a wider, mainstream rock audience. That band come rattling out of the traps with Pig in a Pen and (not for the first time), your humble reviewer is left lamenting his current lack of a turntable to play that old vinyl again!
"Dawg's Waltz" does exactly what it promises and is completely delightful. Crank up the CD, grab your partner and swish them round the kitchen floor on a regular basis. Your nosey neighbours might think that you've gone insane, but you'll be too happy to care (and probably outlive them). While you're up, you might as well keep dancing to "Sitting here in Limbo," (and grab a packet of cornflakes for instant maracas while you're at it).
The traditional song "Off to sea once more" comes next, in two different versions. Firstly we get Ewan Macoll, followed by Garcia, whose faithful reading suggests that he's honouring a debt of gratitude to one of his sources. Whether Macoll would have fully appreciated this tribute is a matter for speculation as he was, at times, an infamous curmudgeon who went out of his way to belittle or ignore the young Bob Dylan, among others. I wonder how he'd feel about being embraced by the massed legions of Deadheads ...
"Jenny Jenkins" makes an appearance next, culled from the (Not) For Kid's Only album. As the parent of a young child I'm one of the many who bought this album "for the kid" and regularly annoy "the kid" by insisting on playing it. Still, "Uncle Jerry" and "Uncle David" are in fine form and provide the basis of a convincing argument for avoiding the Boy Scouts and Summer Camps. Just pack the nippers off with the Merry Pranksters for their holidays, it'll do them good.
"Arabia" provides the listener with the most fully realised example of Grisman's trademark "Dawg" music on this CD. That's to say that it's an epic demonstration of virtuoso musicianship, contrapuntal improvisations, complex time signatures, and goes on for what feels like a week. My wife (who plays the mandolin) really likes this stuff, but I found myself constantly stroking my chin in the fear that my clean-shaven face would develop a beard of Grisman proportions before the end of the track.
"The Thrill is Gone" is a song that I'm more familiar with from B.B. King, so this performance is something of a revelation. While Garcia's voice never matched the declamatory power of King's, his fragile delivery adds a different kind of authenticity to the lyric, while his guitar playing is exemplary.
"Friend of the Devil" revisits the entry point for many fans of the pairing, the 1970 Grateful Dead album American Beauty. This live version is much slower than the one on that album with an easy, shuffling groove and fine solos from both players. The CD concludes with a studio version of "Grateful Dawg," which apart from proving that these musicians sounded every bit as good in a studio, clocks in at three seconds shorter than the live version. Ah, that'll be Garcia's legendary tendency towards long, improvised solos on stage then!
This really is a tremendous CD and great credit must go to Gillian Grisman (David's daughter) for her driving role in the Grateful Dawg project. It's a widely held belief that Garcia's happiest times, in the latter part of his life, were those that he shared with David Grisman, playing and singing this music. This heart-warming album re-emphasizes that belief and puts the happiness within the grasp of anyone. Just press "play."
