I’ve always liked the Grateful Dead, but they’re not one of my favorite bands. I know very little about their music other than their most obvious material. However, American Beauty is the great exception. Whereas albums like Live Dead or Workingman’s Dead seem to emphasize the sides of the Grateful Dead I don’t like as much (the long jams, the communal vibe, or the overly folksy elements), American Beauty just guns for my heart. It helps that American Beauty begins with one of my favorite and most inspiring songs of all time: “Box of Rain.” I cannot tell you how many times this song has comforted me in dark, dark times. In my late 20s in 2006, the wave of awesomeness and daring that I had ridden for the last 10 years suddenly got pulled out from under me. Overnight, I felt like a failure at life - that my dreams of writing fiction were bullshit, my career was a fraud, and my social life destined me to be alone. I struggled for quite a few years digesting my “new normal” - a wounded version of myself that may not have been fueled any longer by bullshit but now had lost his spark and his way. One day, “Box of Rain” just opened up to me on the right day and I started to cry when I heard lyrics such as:
Look out of any window
Any morning, any evening, any day
Maybe the sun is shining...
Phil Lesh sings about possibility in a very therapeutic, pragmatic, and spiritual way.
Walk out of any doorway
Feel your way, feel your way
Like the day before
Maybe you'll find direction
Around some corner
Where it's been waiting to meet you…
The band captures my exact feelings during this time.
Maybe you're tired and broken
Your tongue is twisted
With words half spoken
And thoughts unclear...
And with the thought interwoven that “this is all a dream we dreamed one afternoon long ago,” we get really profound on a quantum physics meets spiritual level. Perhaps everything that ever was has always existed, and our lives are just one of many dreams within the mind of God. Most importantly, this song gave me hope during a dark time. It helped reinforce that I’ve survived this far, and I can survive another day. And that I should continue to hope. Looking back at my life, I realize that unexpected surprises always lurked around corners that I never realized were there at the time. And I need to continue to hope that those surprises await and that my creative blockage will eventually unblock.
After such an introduction, American Beauty would not make it to #110 if “Box of Rain” was the only impactful song. The rest of the album evokes an ideal blend of rock, country, folk, and bluegrass that I like and reminds me of times I’ve spent in Colorado or listening to country and bluegrass bands. It’s the feeling of anti-fame and anti-status. Communal friends and living, mountains surrounding you, a house that’s earthy and humble, lots of friends eating dinner together, and nights sitting out on a porch with a beer listening to the night sounds outside. My travels return to my memory when I hear “Friend of the Devil,” another one of my favorite songs. It contains everything I like about country rock and bluegrass (even though it’s not a proper bluegrass song). The lyrics literally talk about an outlaw, but the metaphor hits a raw nerve with me. It takes me back to my rootlessness from 1999 to 2005 off the radar screen of society, adventuring off the beaten path during those days when any couch was a satisfying home for me. It feels mythic, mysterious, rural, youthful, and non-urban - like a glimpse of lives we never see. I feel that feeling of being chased by internal demons and pressured by the external world. It’s that classic American tension between freedom and responsibility that never fully gets resolved. “Sugar Magnolia” is one of those fun, definitive Grateful Dead songs that’s closer to what I imagine when I think about the band. I still like it, but it’s that playful side of the Grateful Dead that can get cloying upon repeated listens. “Operator” almost sounds like a countrified Jim Croce song, and it’s a rare song written by Pigpen. It keeps the fun momentum going from “Sugar Magnolia” and feels very rootsy and authentic. “Candyman” offers an extremely laid-back side of the Grateful Dead that’s perfect for lounging around on a rainy Sunday afternoon. It doesn’t vary much in over six minutes, but that’s okay.
Side two offers up a set of equally fine songs, even if none match the heights of “Box of Rain” and “Friend of the Devil.” “Ripple” is an incredibly spiritual song with a country-bluegrass base. Musically, it reminds me of songs I used to see performed in Cleveland when my friend Robert introduced me to alt-country and bluegrass bands, or watching sets performed by the Barrow Boys in Atlanta. I love the mandolin in the song, which I always enjoy hearing in a live setting. Lyrically, the song describes that creativity and the spiritual life have foundations not stemming from men but from God. And my path is my path alone, implying that we all have our own spiritual paths to walk. We can interact with and see other people along the way, but our walk with God is individual, personal, and unique. “Brokedown Palace” is more vague but reminds me of the same themes as “Ripple,” that we need a place to rest our weary bones. This song reminds me a lot of The Band with its ragged, communal harmonies and loose, rural feel. “Till the Morning Comes” taps into the “Sugar Magnolia” vibe with its spritely energy and fun. The Grateful Dead offer up some dark, eerie harmonies that creep within the overall fun. “Attics of My Life” opens itself up to me in many, many ways. I almost don’t want to analyze it because it’s so personal, but it represents every moment that the dreams in my mind sustained me over the course of my life - from daydreaming about Jenny Lewis in high school to contemplating God today. From all of my fictional and comedy ideas to all of my deepest, darkest thoughts about life. These are the attics of our mind. I used to make fun of “Truckin’” in high school, thinking it was one of those old fogey, Baby Boomer Deadhead songs. Over time, the song resonates more and more with me. I remember reading an Onion article many years ago mocking high schoolers who talk about their life up until graduation as a “long, strange trip.” That’s true - high schoolers can have an inflated sense of what they’ve lived through. But now, at 38, I can absolutely say, “What a long, strange trip it’s been.” And I’m not saying it in any smug, gloating way. It has been a long...strange...trip. One that I can’t believe some days as I operate in the headquarters of my humble apartment. The travelogue lyrics also resonate with me as I recall my travels across the country: Chicago, New York, Detroit, Houston, and New Orleans. The song also talks of times when everything goes right and when everything goes wrong. Of women who derailed because of drugs. Of the adventure and monotony of travel. It’s all there - one of those songs that magically and accurately captures the feel of a restless life. For someone like me who has now lived it, I understand its light and dark sides. And that’s American Beauty - an album for real people with no bullshit, flash, or stylish pretensions. It’s an album about losing and finding hope, about how life’s relentless nature always hounds you, and about finding some kind of spiritual hope and peace to get you through it. Listening to American Beauty always feels like the comfort of God and a respite from the darkest things that life can throw at me. And I’m sure it will continue to serve that role as I get older.
Comments