Greatest Stories Ever Told - "Brown Eyed Women"
By David Dodd
Here’s the plan—each week, I will blog about a different song, focusing, usually, on the lyrics, but also on some other aspects of the song, including its overall impact—a truly subjective thing. Therefore, the best part, I would hope, would not be anything in particular that I might have to say, but rather, the conversation that may happen via the comments over the course of time—and since all the posts will stay up, you can feel free to weigh in any time on any of the songs! With Grateful Dead lyrics, there’s always a new and different take on what they bring up for each listener, it seems. (I’ll consider requests for particular songs—just private message me!)
Continuing the theme from last week of songs from the never-recorded post-American Beauty studio album, how about if we talk about “Brown-Eyed Women”?
I went to Terrapin Crossroads not too long ago with a whole bunch of friends, mostly librarians, to compete in the Trivia Night contest, up against Phil and his team, and about five other teams. We came in third, and actually beat Phil’s team, which was pretty good, I thought. The only Grateful Dead-related trivia was a fill-in-the-blank lyrics question: “Delilah Jones was the mother of twins, _____ times over, and the rest were sins…” I am happy to say our team got that one right.
“Brown-Eyed Women,” a Garcia-Hunter song, was first played on August 23, 1971 at The Auditorium Theater in Chicago, about a month before the release of the Grateful Dead double live album, aka Skull and Roses, among other monikers. (Hey, this is a family blog!) It was last played by the band on July 6, 1995 at the Riverport Amphitheatre in Maryland Heights, Missouri, which made them miss playing it in Chicago by two days—that would have been an interesting symmetry. And it appeared on the Europe ’72 album, along with the most of the rest of the batch of new songs. It was incorrectly titled “Brown-Eyed Woman” on the album, a mistake which took awhile to rectify. It was played in concert 347 times.
Like “Jack Straw,” “Brown-Eyed Women” is set largely in the era of the Great Depression. It tells the story of a family living in a tumbledown shack in mythical Bigfoot County, somewhere back in the hills, it seems, where the family works the land and the father, Jack Jones, makes bootleg whisky. Jack was a ladies man in his youth, but those days are gone. It is a fairly straightforward tale of scraping by in hard times, where the mother, Delilah Jones, bears eight boys (no girls are mentioned, but an early version, on August 24, 1971 - the second performance of the song - mentions 13 children all told), of which four belong to two sets of twins. This is a couple whose attraction to each other is strong, clearly, and this is a woman who has done more than her share of childbearing and rearing. And when she dies, in the snowstorm that caves in the roof of the family home, Jack Jones is devastated - never the same again.
There is something quietly powerful about the bridge that relates this tragedy, with the culminating line: “and the old man never was the same again.” It’s a feeling that resonates with any of us who have lost a loved one, and especially a life partner. Or with any of us who have seen a parent lose a partner, as I did when my mom died, and indeed, my old man never was the same again—he seemed broken by the loss, and I believe he welcomed his own death when it came. Perhaps this is too much a personal story, but it comes to mind when I think about this song: when my dad met with his pastor after my mom died, he asked how it worked, the going to heaven / resurrection thing. Would Mom be immediately in heaven, looking down, and waiting for Dad’s arrival, or would they both be resurrected together with all of the dead when the Resurrection happened? In other words, his only theological concern was—when will I see Suzy again? And is she in heaven now, or do we both arrive simultaneously later?
I think it is the fact that Jack was never the same again after losing Delilah that makes us most able to like him, to step into his shoes for a moment, and to be able because of that empathy or sympathy to understand something about the life Jack Jones led, making moonshine to make it through the Depression - or to get through his own personal depression following the loss of Delilah.
The lines in the song that place it squarely in chronological time are the references to the onset of Prohibition - “1920 when he stepped to the bar” - and to the Wall Street crash of late 1929 - “1930 when the Wall caved in.” (Which always makes me think of “Greatest Story Ever Told,” with the line: “You can’t close the door when the wall’s caved in.”) Prohibition was repealed in 1933, but the art of backwoods whisky making was well-established by then, and surely continues to this day.
There are many other Jacks, and one other Delilah (along with a Delia, which seems close) in the Grateful Dead song repertoire. I love this about Grateful Dead songs—all the names of all the characters. But Jack comes up repeatedly. Someday there should be a little essay just about all those Jacks, from Jack Straw to the Jack who is asked not to dominate the rap, to Jack of Jack and Jill, to Wolfman Jack, to Jack the Ripper, to Jack-a-Roe. More than four of a kind in a hand of jacks, for sure.
Another story, which again, given the all-ages nature of this blog, I must not relate in full, has to do with an occasion featuring a bottle of grenadine and one certain brown-eyed woman….
Over to you all: family stories from the Great Depression (or from today’s parallel Great Recession)? Coping with the loss of a partner? Making it through hard times by hook or by crook? Women with brown eyes? Looking forward to your stories and reflections.
Reading your comments ALWAYS brings fresh insight--it's so great to have a community-wide conversation. I especially liked the quote-unquote "mis-hearing" (Hunter, you will remember, claimed that these were actually valid alternative hearings, one reason he was reluctant for so long to see his words on the page): "Did get religion like the other ones had." Just fantastic! And the wonderful notion that the old man who never was the same again was Delilah's god. Thanks for opening up the song in new ways, everyone.
I remember being a 15 yr old looking through the Cassettes for The Album this song was on.. I could only find it on Live albums.. LOL.. They had "The Night of the Living Dead" radio show on a local Baltimore/DC station when I was a teen...Id watch late horror show and then go to my basement smoke a bowl and listen to Live dead shows.. from there i'd search for My favorite songs etc... This was mid 1980...first show in 1988 at 16 yrs old..Still listen every day....
This lyric makes me want to reach for a whiskey. Nobody could put together vignettes of America's past like Robert Hunter. Him and Robbie Robertson.
For me this is one of Hunter's best story distillations, and Jerry's most dovetailing songwriting efforts. When Jerry was of strong voice this song was as sweet as a slice of pecan pie. Maybe we wanted more obfuscation and mystery in hunter's lyrics? I cherished this in the first set as an example of the Hunter/Garcia team at the top of their songwriting game. This song would sound good outside of the dead context - jimmy buffet could cover this and though it doesn't have any references to Caribbean culture some might mistake it for his own. Maybe that's the reason why people headed to the bar or john for this number, it was so pure to be almost generically good. I for one think it is one of the forgotten goodies in the canon. Right there with must have been the roses and china doll.
Another example where the walls come down is in the first verse of Ramble on Rose.
Brown Eyed Women is a fabulous song, perfectly crafted. The largesse of 1971 / 72 Grateful Dead is extraordinary, scattering these gorgeous new tunes through the Skull and Roses and Europe 72 live albums. It is interesting to think about how they would have been tackled in the studio. If another song oriented studio album had emerged in '71 or '72, as finely crafted as Workingman's Dead and American Beauty, building on the audience for those albums, and powered by the Warners marketing machine, maybe Grateful Dead would have attracted a huge mass audience.
I understand how some might find this song a time to relieve oneself. It does evoke a lot of emotion for me, even as I feel it somehow misses the mark. Rather, I should say it isn't a bulls-eye. Jerry, I think, used to talk about their being off the mark as part of the attraction of the Grateful Dead. Somehow, within the imperfection, comes something to be heard and felt. He was relating it to the human condition.
I would sum up this song as "sadness". Children of alcoholic parent(s) should easily get it. And nobody likes to feel sad or see their parent(s) drunk or dying. How it is a part of life though... I can understand how some people might check out temporarily for this song.
There was so much to a Grateful Dead concert. I am totally grateful even for the songs I didn't particularly like.
very nice, looks like the one's you see up here in the mountains. Popcorn Sutton made some of the finest sippin licker that there ever was.
Some might find this sacareligious, and maybe it's because they always seemed to play this one when I saw them, but this was a bathroom song for me. The lyrics are great, but I just can't seem to catch that tune.
There was a time when this was my favorite Dead song. Some of it was the narrator feeling his own age, both directly ("gone are the days . . .") and through his parents (mom died, and the old man never was the same again). It was also a good story. (Though it is one of those songs that Jerry messed up occasionally, mixing up or repeating verses. No offense!)
Maybe it's a "mondegreen", but I seem to remember believing that the line in at least one concert was, "Didn't get religion like the other ones had." (But then, I guess I've "heard" some weird things in other songs too -- for years, I thought that in "Me and My Uncle" in Skullfuck, the line was "I'm as honest as a gamblin' man can be", which certainly seems to make more sense that "Denver man".) But I digress.
I always appreciated the feeling that Jerry seemed to put into the lyrics, which is why I liked it so much. Other songs have surpassed it in my mind (Black Peter, Wharf Rat, Sing Me Back Home) because of the feeling in those songs, but there's still that memory every time I hear it.
About the sentimentality of this song in the family setting. Many is the time I have shed a tear or two listening to "...and the old man never was the same again." Timeless beyond doubt, Hunter rips the heart right out of us with Jerry and the boys sharing their fair load...
I always thought the lines, "Delilah Jones went to meet her God, and the old man never was the same again" meant that God never was the same, after Delilah got up there and got done with him.