Grateful Dead

Greatest Stories Ever Told - "Days Between"

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!)

“Days Between”

A generation was defined by knowing where they were, what they were doing, at the moment they learned of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. I have had a similar experience of the “generation” of Deadheads, over the years, talking with fellow Deadheads about August 9, 1995, the day we learned that Jerry Garcia had died.

I was at work, at the Kraemer Family Library at the University of Colorado, Colorado Springs. The campus is situated high on a bluff overlooking the city of Colorado Springs, with a view to the west of Pike’s Peak, surely one of the most impressive views I have ever spent time with on a regular basis. When a co-worker came to ask if I had heard the news, I first spent a little time online, making sure that it was indeed true, then I had to leave my desk, leave the building, and go for a long walk. I headed for the open space on the bluff above the campus buildings, where you could go and get a long view, and walked for about an hour, I think. My eyes blurred with tears, and the view shimmered.

“Days Between” has come to be an anthem that makes us remember Garcia in a particular way, and, in particular, the days between his birth date of August 1 and his death date of August 9. It’s a fitting song for such thoughts, with its big sweeping chords and its lyrics heavy with nostalgia and longing.

There’s a word in German, sehnsucht, that lacks a proper emotional counterpart in English, but which means, roughly, “longing.” It carries a sense of wishing you could see something—see something again, see something at all—that something is missing from your eyes and from your presence. I find that “Days Between” belongs with a raft of songs that induce this feeling in me.

“Days Between,” a late song in the Robert Hunter / Jerry Garcia songbook, was perhaps their last collaboration on a big, significant song, one that ranks with “Dark Star” and “Terrapin Station” as ambitious and intentionally grand. (I was talking the other day with a friend, about Garcia’s playing and songwriting, and the thought came up that Garcia, like few others, was unafraid of grandeur, and could successfully pull it off. Same with Hunter.)

It was first performed on February 22, 1993, at the Oakland Coliseum Arena, the middle show of a three-night run. The night before, they had premiered three other new songs: “Eternity,” “Lazy River Road,” and “Liberty.” Its final performance was on June 24, 1995, at RFK Stadium in Washington, DC. During its relatively short time in the live repertoire, they played it 41 times, always in the second set, and fairly frequently rising out of the Drums.

It appeared like the ghostly ships it describes, as if gradually from a fog and only slowly revealing itself as something very big, towering above everything around. It’s hard to say it any better than Phil Lesh did in his autobiography, Searching for the Sound:

“Achingly nostalgic, ‘Days Between’ evokes the past. The music climbs laboriously out of shadows, growing and peaking with each verse, only to fall back each time in hopeless resignation. When Jerry sings the line ‘when all we ever wanted / was to learn and love and grow’ or ‘gave the best we had to give / how much we’ll never know,’ I am immediately transported decades back in time, to a beautiful spring morning with Jerry, Hunter, Barbara Meier, and Alan Trist—all of us goofing on the sheer exhilaration of being alive. I don’t know whether to weep with joy at the beauty of the vision or with sadness at the impassable chasm of time between the golden past and the often painful present.”

Each verse in the song contains fourteen lines, and each evokes a different season of the year, although not in sequence. The first verse contains the lines “Summer flies and August dies / the world grows dark and mean.” I can’t hear that line without thinking about August West, in Wharf Rat, and, by extension, Garcia himself. “The singing man is at his song / the holy on their knees.” Who is the singing man, if not Garcia, when it comes to Hunter and his words?

There is something wave-like in the repetition Hunter employs with several key phrases: “There were days, and there were days, and there were days between…” like the waves upon the sand. And “when phantom ships with phantom sails set to sea on phantom tides.”

This is a song in which Hunter leaves wide open the individual assignment of meaning, as with many of his lyrics. But there is something so tender in his evocation of the past—of each of our pasts—that I really hesitate to say anything that could possibly put any of that into my own personal box of meaning. So I am going to err, possibly, on the side of not writing enough about this song, in hopes that I might not say too much.

I still miss Jerry. Where were you on August 9, 1995?

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bolo24's picture
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Joined: Nov 25 2009
A Different "Days Between"

8/9/1995 - Getting ready for work, saw the tragic news unfold on TV as I was brushing my teeth. Blew off going to work, as I wouldn't have accomplished anything there.

8/13/1995 - Same thing, different guy. Mickey Mantle died.

That four day period is my "Days Between." The death of my childhood signified by the passing of Mickey, and the death of my adolescence/early adulthood marked by Jerry's departure.

I was 40 years old, and figured it was time to consider being a full-fledged adult.

18 years later, I'm still considering it...

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Black Muddy River

Black Muddy River, roll on forever, I don't care how deep or wide, roll on forever. When it seems like the night will last forever. and there's nothing left to do but count the stars. When the strings of my heart start to sever, and stones fall from my eyes instead of tears. I will walk alone by the black muddy river, SING me a song of my own, sing me a song of my own.....

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we all take lines from songs...

that mean something important to each of us. My favorite lines from this song are "walked halfway around the world/on promise of the glow". Mr. Hunter is pure lyrical genius. That "glow" held all the promise of change that was so desperately needed in a "bomb shelter/ Ozzie and Harriet world" that existed at the time. Had it not been for the "glow", would we even have this group/music/era? I have never fully understood why the "glow" has not been given its rightful place in the history of the human race since its mass production/ ingestion some 47 yrs. ago. What a shame, but at the same time, what a testament to the "type A, over-caffeinated, alcohol-soaked, work-until-you-drop, just pull up your boot straps and go get'em" society that is our reality now.

God bless Owsley/Scully/Sand/the GOGD and the intrepid others for slowing this shit machine down and making us question everything.

We all owe so very much to the makers.

"Did it matter, does it now?" as to my or anybody else's whereabouts when Jer was relieved of his world-weariness. No. I do hope, however, that the folks at Serenity Knolles were sincere when they said that he died with a smile on his face, because that is exactly how I picture Jerry when I think about his death and that puts a smile on my face, each and every time. No better final statement could be made. Nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile :))))))))))))))))))

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Very moving stories

Thanks to all who have been sharing your stories. Some of the feelings are still tender, I can tell, and all of the experiences shared are downright touching. I hope more will chime in...

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When the Sad News Came Through

I was on a train on my way up to London to go to work. I noticed in someone's Daily Telegraph a picture of Jerry and I felt that this was not going to be good news. The Telegraph is the paper of the retired colonel, and would only comment on anything vaguely modern if it was something it could have a moan about. Rock musicians were only ever mentioned if they were busted for drugs, had a messy divorce, or died. So when I saw the picture, I feared for the worst, and when I got into work I immediately went to find out what was happening. A very sad day indeed.

As for 'Days Between', this song is a beauty. A lot of excellent things have been written about it, and I can't really add to them. Even at a time when the band was going through a lot of troubles, it could still bring out something outstanding. 'Days Between' and 'So Many Roads' were among the band's best songs; 'Eternity' and 'Lazy River' were also very good.

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in my office

on that fateful day. Like others I was saddened but not really shocked. I was always hoping against hope that Jerry would pull off another miracle and be stronger than ever-I was always looking for hopeful signs. My last show was Boston Garden-10/01/94 where a frail looking Jerry pulled off a strong performance for the ages. I was looking forward to the scheduled Boston run for Fall 95, which, was not to be. "Days Between" was the last truly great composition in my eyes and the version on "So Many Roads" contains a sublime solo whichs compactly presents the build and soar that only Jerry could do in a few short moments. Even though it was an early practice it hinted at what the song could become. Its evocative powers were truly amazing. All these years later I am still listening to the body of work left behind and the new body of work being created-the Warren Haynes performances with various symphonic orchestras across the country this summer were very creative and welcome additions to the legacy.

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I remember it clearly...

I posted this to Blair's blog last year or the year before.

I was in grad school at the time driving into the lab and I turned on the local NPR station and they were playing--of all songs--Jerry's version of "Cigarettes & Coffee" from the movie soundtrack to Smoke. In a split second I knew then and there--it must have been the dirge in that song. Was a strange feeling but I just knew he was gone. The shock didn't hit me until I received a call from a friend who asked if I had heard. Up to that point, I hadn't received an official word via radio or other media. But just the same, I had already known in my mind but hadn't yet let it sink in as reality. The phone call changed all that...Very sad, but the music continues to live on through memory, recordings, and new interpretations by the remaining GD other great musicians.

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Joined: Dec 31 2008
in the car

Like many, I was in the car. I was working on a road construction crew in Wisconsin that summer and we started early and ended early many days because of the high heat that year. I was on the east side of Madison when the radio told me the news. I still remember the spot and when I drive that road I remember that day.

I was saddened, but not surprised. We attended the 7/8 show and were startled by his appearance and performance. This is the show that confirmed the presence of a cursed shirt in my wardrobe. I bought a sweet tie-dye at the World Theater lot before Brent's last show; wore it a month later at the Clapton/SRV show at Alpine Valley (SRV died); and did not wear it for a couple years. Then I put it back in the rotation, but never to a concert-- until 7/8/95. We were on our way to Chicago and at about Cumberland Ave. exit I realized I had worn the 'Death Shirt.' We, of course, laughed it off. Alas, I have not worn it again. Nothing really to it, of course, but I can't bring myself to wear it again.

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Joined: Jul 20 2007
With my Grandmother...

Thank you David Dodd. I think this is your most moving piece yet.

I was staying with my 84 year old grandmother in Miami, Florida, helping her during her recovery from cancer surgery. It was (this sounds stupid) one of the greatest experiences of my life. I got to know her better than I ever had when other family was around. Anyway, she heard about it on the radio and she is the one who told me, in her soft Georgia accent,. "Chris, I'm so sorry, that man you care about so much, Jerry Garcia - he passed away today." Here she was sick and in pain, telling me she was sorry about Jerry's death.

Its funny, I remember being upset at other deaths - Joey Ramone, George Harrison - I remember how I felt, for example, but I have no memory of exactly where I was or what I was doing. The only two dates I remember exactly in this way are 8/9/95 and 9/11/01 - that never occurred to me until now.

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