Greatest Stories Ever Told - "Ramble On Rose"
By David Dodd
First, just a little background: “Ramble On Rose” was introduced on Tuesday, October 19, 1971 at the Northrop Auditorium at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. The show is noteworthy for a number of reasons. First performances at the show, besides "Ramble on Rose," included "Comes a Time," "Mexicali Blues," "One More Saturday Night" (on a Tuesday!), and "Tennessee Jed." It was also Keith Godchaux's first show. "Ramble On Rose" occupied the #2 spot in the second set, following "Truckin'," and preceding "Me and Bobby McGee."
Numbering the song among his favorites, Robert Hunter stated in an interview in Relix that "'Ramble on Rose' is a particular favorite -- there's something funny about that song."
In David Gans's Conversations with the Dead, Hunter says: "I think ‘Ramble On Rose’ is the closest to complete whimsy I've come up with. I just sat down and wrote numerous verses that tied around ‘Did you say...’ “
“Ramble On Rose” also happens to be the song that set me off on my little adventure of annotating the Grateful Dead’s lyrics. When I first started the project, I was working as a reference library assistant at the Fremont Main library in Alameda County. I was living in Oakland, commuting via BART the 30 miles each way every day to Fremont, and going to as many Dead concerts as I could. Those were some good days — I was learning about what I wanted to do with my life (become a librarian) and at the same time, seeing the Dead or Jerry with his various bands on a regular basis. The Greek, Frost, Henry Kaiser, SF Civic, Oakland Coliseum Arena, Keystone Berkeley,Cal Expo….
Where was I? Oh yeah. “Ramble On Rose.” Something about that song… I still find new stuff in there all the time. One of my biggest revelations about the song was actually from a mis-hearing. It was at the closing of Winterland show, when I clearly heard Garcia sing, “Buckle up, and buckle down, do yourself a favor.” Not the real words (and not what Jerry sang), but definitely of some import to me at the time. Hmmmm. That would be a fun component in any and all of these blog posts and subsequent conversations — what did you hear, as opposed to what the words really were? American writer Sylvia Wright coined the term “mondegreens” to refer to these creative mis-hearings. Feel free to chime in at any time with your own! (“Wake up to find out that you are disguised as a squirrel...”)
So. “Ramble On Rose.” And I am rambling. It’s a predilection of mine, to go off on tangents, and I’ve found it serves me well. I like to make strange connections. I started making the connections in this song simply by trying to figure out who all and what all was being talked about by Robert Hunter. That guy! You could be standing there, innocently listening to a rock and roll song, and BAM — he hits you right between the eyes.
I think my first foray into this kind of fact-finding was when I decided to look up the names in the song, starting with Billy Sunday. I’m not going into the whole annotation thing here (just search online for “annotated Ramble On Rose,” except to say that I was pretty surprised by the cast of characters and who they turned out to be. I mean, a tent preacher who got his start as a professional baseball player? A ragtime piano player from the 1950s named Crazy Otto? The legendary DJ Wolfman Jack? This song, if you put images with all of it, would look something like the cover of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. A highlight of my work on the song was receiving a phone call from Johnny Maddox (aka Crazy Otto), who was still playing ragtime for a living, at a place in Durango, Colorado. We had a great conversation.
The same is true for all of the musical references in the song. I did a medley once with David Gans for his radio show featuring snippets of all the various songs and types of music in “Ramble On Rose.” Amazing! Ragtime (100 verses thereof), Irving Berlin (“leader of a band,” from ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’), the blues (“Mojo Hand”), nursery rhymes (Jack and Jill), gospel (Jericho), country (“I Walk the Line”), jazz standards (“Ramblin’ Rose”), folk (“Green Green, the Grass is Green”), and more. Here’s a link to streaming audio for that musical collage, plus some verbal commentary… with thanks to David Gans:
Top left going clockwise are Mary Shelley, a “Crazy Otto” album cover, Billy Sunday, sheet music cover for “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” by Irving Berlin, Wolfman Jack.
So, here’s my question, now that I have run to ground all of the song’s references—historical, literary, musical, etc. And that is: can anyone get a handle on this song from a “meaning” point of view? I do love hearing personal interpretations, and Hunter has made it clear over the course of a number of interviews that he will not comment on a song’s “meaning” because that would shut down the ability of each of us listeners to construct our own meaning. It would be fun, and enlightening, to hear just what you take away from this particular song.
Is the narrator singing to someone who calls herself “Ramblin’ Rose”? Is the line about singing “a hundred verses of ragtime” a threat or a promise? Who is the leader of the band mentioned in the song? Or is that a metaphor? What is meant by the series of “just like” comparisons?
Or do you prefer to let the lyrics wash over you, invoking a mental kaleidoscope of images and music? I like to think that the curious structure of the music Garcia wrote for these words is an answer, or a complement to Hunter’s hodge-podge—it’s an unclassifiable amalgam of ragtime, shuffle, slow rock and roll, and who knows what all else—opinions?
My online annotation of the song includes an actual analysis of the lyric’s prosody—its rhyming and metric components, as follows. Useful? Perhaps not, but kind of fun:
The song lyric is structured in trochaic rhythm, with paired verses consisting of two lines of triameter, one of quadrameter, and another of triameter, for a total of 13 strong feet (!) per verse. The verses' rhyming pattern is A, B, C, [C], B; with the bracketed [C] being an optional internal rhyme: halls, walls; chains/change; and plush/flush. There are seven verses, with the first six in pairs. The final verse stands alone, carrying into the final chorus.
The chorus' rhythm stays in trochees for the first line of five beats, then switches to dactylic quadrameter for the second line, and a punchy single dactylic line of two beats to wind up. The chorus contains no rhymes. It is repeated three times.
The bridge is less easy to pin down, moving from iambic to trochaic to dactylic rhythms. It similarly dispenses with any firm rhyming pattern, relying solely on the assonances contained in "ragtime" and "county line." The bridge is repeated twice.
This is one of those Grateful Dead songs that generates a lot more questions than answers. And I look forward to hearing everyone’s thoughts! Chime right in.
My head hurts from all the analysis...which is really great. But in the end, it's just cool song and fun to sing along.
I think this song is about loving someone who is indecisive, and fears commitment. The duelty you describe, to me seems like the narrator is naming pairs of opposites to describe his lover's bipolarity. She wants to love him one day, possibly because she needs him at the moment. Then the next day she feels trapped, bc there is another opportunity that she wonders about being better than where she is. Maybe she decides to leave or cheat, then returns to him once the other lover doesn't seem to want her. She won't make and firm commitment or plan. She just "rambles on" waiting for life to force her into a plan or decide to commit to someone. "Pace the halls and climb the walls. Then get out when they blow". Eventually her inability to be committed or able to make any decisions, ends up causing her to mislead and hurt others. It also makes her dig a hole so deep that she relies on others to save her all the time. He erratic and impulsive behavior is just a cycle of self destruction, that she never learns from.
The chorus describes his despair, in being lead on, only to be let down.
"I'm gonna to sing you a hundred verses in ragtime,
I know this song it ain't never gonna end.
I'm gonna march you up and down along the county line,
Take you to the leader of a band."
Ragtime is a genre of music with improvisations by the "leader of the band". The backing accompaniment instruments play in 2/4 time creating a syncopated rythm with the the leaders unpredictable improv melody. This is like Jerry himself. The leader is the one choosing the direction, as the band follows. He easily decides on a whim and guides the band through the song. The county line lies between two counties. It is between both the beginning and end at the same time. He marches her up and down the line, trying to convince her in 100 different ways(100 verses) to lean his way, He's learning that this song will never end. No matter how many ways he tries to convince her, she keeps walking that line, refusing to lean. Not even the leader of the band can make her march off that line. He realizes she won't change.
The ending of the song he says "goodbye mama and papa, goodbye jack and jill. The grass ain't green, the wine aint sweeter, on either side of the hill." He had enough and is telling her goodbye, while warning her that the grass isn't any greener where she's looking. She is living in a fantasy world. She wants the ideal to overcome the actual. It seems she will always be looking for something that doesn't exist, instead of appreciating anything that she has, or finding love and happiness within herself.
I thought I'd post my interpretation of Ramble on Rose since I haven't seen one similar yet. I see a lot of references to a certain unity behind the apparent duality of our world, and transcending or moving beyond such duality. The most prominent lines are:
Just like Jack and Jill, Mama told the sailor
One heat up and one cool down, Leave nothin' for the tailor
Just like Jack and Jill, Papa told the jailer
One go up and one come down, Do yourself a favor
To me, Jack and Jill represent to poles of a duality and the song is pointing to their inherent balance. One heats up, one cools down. "Leave nothing for the tailor" means there is no remainder to the equation, so to speak. One goes up, one goes down. Papa tells the jailer "Do yourself a favor" i.e., lock them both up or set them both free because they are linked. Something like that, maybe. Also, Mama and Papa are another expression of duality.
I know this song it ain't never gonna end
I'm gonna march you up and down the local county line
Take you to the leader of the band
To me, this indicates that apparent duality is a basic feature of our world and isn't going away. By walking the line between apparent opposites, maintaining a balance, we rise/transcend... all the way to the "leader of the band". Open for interpretation... God? Higher self? It's left open, but basically speaks of drawing closer to the highest. This line may also link to the part after Frankenstein, "Try to walk the line"
Goodbye, Mama and Papa
Goodbye, Jack and Jill
The grass ain't greener, the wine ain't sweeter
either side of the hill.
To me, this is about moving beyond duality. Saying goodbye to Mama/Papa, Jack/Jill, and the idea that one is better than the other since there is a fundamental unity behind apparent opposites.
I don't always see how the wealth of musical/cultural references fit in this interpretation, and the song surely works on many levels, but I can see some of them.
Billy Sunday in a shotgun ragtime band... perhaps the duality of an evangelistic preacher who used what many would have considered "vulgar" music?
Crazy Otto... Crazy Otto being a reference to Fritz Schulz-Reichel, who alternated between "serious" music and ragtime. This points to the unity of music that transcends false dichotomies of "serious" music and "vulgar" music. As Garcia said in a Rolling Stone interview, "You have to get past the idea that music has to be one thing. To be alive in America is to hear all kinds of music constantly--radio, records, churches, cats on the street, everywhere music, man."
Wolfman Jack... a radio DJ with the apparent duality of being a white DJ everyone thought was black.
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein... not really sure here, but it makes me think of Mary Shelley being the creator of the Frankenstein story, and Dr. Frankenstein being the creator of the monster... sort of a duality between creator and created.
Obviously some of these interpretations are quite tentative and loose, but there is so much in this song that, to me, really does speak about moving beyond apparent duality that I think it's a worthwhile contribution to possible interpretations of the song.
Funny how the lyrics pop up or take on new meaning sometimes... heading back from a Buffalo show, I got on the NYS Thruway and there was the "Count Your Change" sign upon leaving the toll booth. Okay. But then hearing the line beginning with "Just like New York City..." the first time after 911: that was heavy.
you have to remember, robert hunter was not researching these factoids to drop into his tunes. he had an arsenal of literary knowledge that he deployed seemingly effortlessly. it's only to us more feeble-brained individuals that have to strain for these references.
Yes, it does seem like analysis can get too nerdy and picky and all that a lot of the time, and I generally try to avoid it myself. I'm interested in the reaction, the hit we get off things, the way what we hear connects disparate parts of ourselves and of the way we perceive the world. Hence my work on the annotations, which do not get into interpretation, but simply try to take a factual look at what might be being sung about or alluded to. Nice post--thanks!
"Just like Cherry Coke!".
From another song, I always heard "There's a train in Wenatchee that's loose on the town, takes a whole pail of water...." In that case, in my opinion, it's almost as good as the real lyric, fitting in nicely with the Grateful Dead's archtypes.
I googled "mustard bean neurosis" and got nothing, then I said it aloud and I've been grinning about it ever since. Thanks, David.
I have no doubt that Robert Hunter is a genius and a wordsmith and all that but it seems a little odd sometimes if you take it too far. For example...not having the word "the" in their and implying this or that, adjectives, nouns, etc...you could spend your whole life trying to figure out what it meant to him but it only matters what it means to you. His whole thing was ambiguity. I think its pretty easy to be vague but its not easy to do what he did. He writes with such eloquence and grace but still often leaves open for discussion. I am die hard Dylan fan but my favorite wordsmith is Robert Hunter, but not because of his songs believe it or not. In the Anthem to Beauty documentary, he speaks of writing To Lay Me Down, Brokedown Palace, & Ripple on the same day. He says something along the lines of "I hope these days would come again...oh they will...but not for me" Of course he wrote many many great songs after those, including Ramble on Rose, but I think that really sums up who he is as a person and a writer. A humble guy with a great deal of insight of whats going on around him. Of course, I dont know him personally...
Thanks, Mike, for that comment about the shift from adjective to verb. And I might add, to proper noun. Your allusion to "Must've Been the Roses" reminds me of a long shaggy-dog story told by the Flying Karamazov Brothers in which a man goes to the doctor and is diagnosed with "mustard bean neurosis." Is there no end to this madness?