Blair’s Golden Road Blog: Here’s Where the Rainbow Ends
By Blair Jackson
Nearly two years and 90 blogs ago, we embarked on a remarkable mutual journey through the world of the Dead. At times, writing Blair’s Golden Road Blog and contributing regular features to Dead.net has felt like a wonderful continuation of putting out The Golden Road, the spirited Dead ’zine my wife, Regan, and I put out between 1984 and 1993.
Writing for this space, I’ve been able to freely explore an incredible variety of topics relating to the Grateful Dead and all the impressive surviving offshoots thriving today. I’ve had the opportunity to interview at length so many fantastic musicians from Furthur, Phil & Friends, RatDog and Mickey’s and Bill’s groups—all of them incredibly nice and interesting folks. These are all truly special people who have been touched by that GD mojo. I’ve been privileged to write about a mind-blowing array of transformative events, from Bob’s transfixing meld with the Marin Symphony, to various New Year’s extravaganzas, Phil’s remarkable 70th birthday concert, Wavy Gravy’s 75th, the Global Drum Project, various magical Rex benefits and so many more. We’ve talked about Dead-related books, movies and videos, debated myriad big and small issues related to the Dead Head community, and gone off on all sorts of strange and colorful tangents. And there was also a fairly large dose of nostalgia—memories, reflections, opinions shared and sometimes battled over.
This week’s column marks the end of Blair’s Golden Road Blog, and I want to sincerely thank you all for your input these past two years. To be honest, when I started the blog, I was worried that the discussions it would prompt might devolve into the sometimes bitter and acrimonious back-and-forth that is so common in discussion groups all over the Internet. I completely understand that this is the way of the modern world, but I don’t have to approve of it! Can’t we all just get along? Yes, we can can!
But I/we lucked out! The responses to nearly every topic I broached in the blog were informative, thoughtfully presented and remarkably free of invective. What a collection of stories you’ve shared with us — insightful, funny, scary, crazy; the whole emotional spectrum. Thanks for being so damn cool! You also have my eternal gratitude for turning me on to your favorite shows, CDs and other inspiring things that brighten your lives. For a guy who is supposedly an “expert” on all this, I have huge humbling gaps in my knowledge—hundreds of shows and even a few entire tours I’ve never heard a note from, sad to say. I’ve taken copious notes from your suggestions and they should keep me busy for a long time to come. And with any luck, you’ve learned a few things from me and your fellow fans along the way. Lord, you know we made a fine connection!
The Grateful Dead has been in the foreground of my life since I first saw the band in 1970 (talk to high school buddies I tortured with endless spins of Live Dead, Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty!), but most intensely since the beginning of the ’80s, when my show-going increased dramatically (thanks to the Dead playing at the Greek, Frost, Ventura, etc.) and wrote my first book about the band, The Music Never Stopped. The feedback that book elicited (dozens of hand-written letters; remember that art form?) led directly to my starting The Golden Road, which dominated nine amazing years of Regan’s and my life. That, in turn, prompted Viking Books to ask me to write Garcia: An American Life following Jerry’s death, a project that affected me more emotionally than any in my career. Its success led to other books (such as Grateful Dead Gear) and to a number of liner notes writing assignments, and even some production work on Grateful Dead and Garcia releases — If An American Life was my favorite project of the post-Grateful Dead era, the box set, All Good Things: Jerry Garcia Studio Sessions, was a close second. To be in a top-flight professional recording studio day after day for months, listening to hour after hour of Jerry in action was powerfully overwhelming. God, I miss Jerry.
It was also an honor to work on the 17-volume Road Trips series with David Lemieux, who has been creatively steering the Good Ship Grateful Dead through both calm and stormy waters in the post-Garcia era and has consistently done magnificent work to keep the flame alive. I was, frankly, disappointed that Road Trips was critically lambasted in some circles, but I stand by every choice that was made and I continue to believe that a strong anthology can be every bit the equal of a single hot show release. Happily, the Dave’s Picks series seems to be working for just about everyone. Another highlight for me was penning the main essay for The Complete Europe ’72 megabox. That was such a special world to live in for the months it took to put together.
Sometimes I feel as though my life has been one very long Grateful Dead show. There are jamming songs and short tunes, rockers and ballads, smooth transitions and noisy train wrecks; songs I don’t want to hear, others that arrive at the perfect moment, “space” that baffles and soothes; long lines, lots of waiting around and bathroom breaks; dashed expectations and miracles beyond wonder.
At some point around 40 years ago, “Playing in the Band” started rattling around in my head, and stayed there. There have been a thousand offshoots from that theme, but it never disappears completely, and the variations are unending. Like waves upon the sand.
I’ve long embraced the concept that the sound of the Grateful Dead, and their songs, are always out there, floating in the ether, and all we do is just lock onto it/them for brief or long periods, as we ourselves move through time and space. It’s all one “Dark Star,” one “Playing in the Band,” from the early days through the post-Jerry years, and we enter that zone both alone and together. Where does the time go? It’s right there, unfolding before you. How does the song go? Just like you think it does.
Take care, everybody! No doubt I’ll see you again a few exits down The Golden Road. In the immortal words of counterculture sage Scoop Nisker, “Question authority and question reality. Stay high but keep your priorities straight.”
And as my eternal role model, the ever-optimistic Tigger, put it, “Ta-ta for now!”
I would give you that Pulitzer Prize if I could. You are a great writer and an amazing community-builder. I am very grateful.
was one of the nicest welcome mats anyone could ever encounter. Like any gracious host, you did a phenomenal job of making your guests, whether we had little or vast knowledge of dates, venues and set lists, feel welcome to each and every blog. I too, with the masses, will greatly miss your presence on a weekly basis. How can we not? 2 years and 90 blogs is at very least worth an Associates Degree in GD history (no tuition either!) Thank you for making me feel welcome and for being the epitome of GD kindness, Dr. Jackson. :) Warm wishes to you and your loved ones.
You've done well my friend... you've turned us all on and passed it along... Thank you!
Hope to meet you one day in person and share a story of my own.
(That kid from Westchester!)
I am sorry to see the end of this blog. I have been a big fan since first reading "The Music Never Stopped", and still have all my copies (a complete collection I believe) of the Golden Road. If there is some doubt on Rhino's part about whether this blog is valued and vital - let there be none - it is both. To them: please bring it back! If that is not possible, then all I can say is thank you Blair, for all the great writing. Thank you for expressing what so many of us feel but lack the gifts to express in the way that you could.
Thanks for the many good reads, Blair. I thoroughly enjoyed your blog and it will be a missed feature on this website. Best of luck in your future writings, wherever they go.
I will miss reading your blog; it's the primary reason I log onto this website. I don't understand why Rhino feels this venue for heads to share memories about so many GD related topics is not important. It's a place for us to share our experiences, our deadhead history. Maybe they will offer something equal in its place- I guess that remains to be seen.
I'll miss your insights and the real pleasure in reading this blog every week. I'll miss reading the comments, too!
I hope that those responsible will see the error of this decision and bring back Blair's Blog. Please...
I look forward to continuing to read your writing online, in books, and of course those wonderful liner notes!
Long time fan
are you leaving your connection to the GD? or just to this blog?
hopefully the latter...your decades of effort have helped spread the GD message a great deal.
As I have mentioned before, your book TMNS has been a well referred-to text. It's how I knew which shows to get first in my collection.
I also have a full set of The Golden Road; I ALWAYS looked forward to getting that in the mail.
Thank you, Blairj.
this sucks. i realize i haven't been responding too much in the past few months, but i love reading this blog and people's responses each week. i also loved writing responses to the blog topics when i did - it was an excuse to force myself to attempt to create a well thought out idea about this wonderful band, it's history, and all the great people who love it. so for that, i thank you blair, it's been a great run, and i will miss it, yet as any prankster knows: "nothing lasts."
Every Friday night when I left work I would load this blog onto my phone and would read it on my subway ride home from Manhattan to Queens.
I will miss the great Dead topics and resulting discussions.
What I'll really miss though is that good time feeling you get when you get into "Dead mode"...
and nothing put me in that mode better than this blog.
If you look at the big picture of life, this blog was just a little thing.
But sometimes you realize it's the little things that are important.
We'll miss you, man.
Fare you well...
Wouldn't it be so Grateful Dead, if this article's "departure" is a pretext to the reemergence of a newer, stronger Jackson? Perhaps it's wishful thinking, or maybe I've seen too many Oliver Stone movies.