Imagine that you’re walking around the Providence Performing Arts Center (PPAC) on a Wednesday night… everyone you see is wearing tie-dye shirts of some kind, sporting huge smiles on their faces, and smoking one thing or another… it’s a moment that evokes the “if ya know, ya know” expression — if you do, you know that somewhere nearby a Grateful Dead tribute band is playing, and if you’re a dedicated Deadhead, you’re wearing tie-dye too.
I am a music lover, but not an expert on the iconic Grateful Dead. I am, however, a psychologist, and in addition to experiencing the amazing music created by the Dark Star Orchestra (DSO), I witnessed the community that was built around them, and was intrigued. A book titled, “Deadhead Social Science: You Ain’t Gonna Learn What You Don’t Want to Know”, is “a collection of papers examining various aspects of the complex subculture surrounding the rock band, the Grateful Dead.” It describes in its content, what I saw happen at the Dark Star Orchestra concert — “a communal mystical experience.” One of the articles, “The Deadhead Community: Popular Religion in Contemporary American Culture” (Sutton, 2000), asserts that the Deadhead devotion to the band and its music transcends the fan-musician relationship. The music and those who play the Dead’s songs- create the backdrop for the transformative, entrancing and collective experience, which fosters an intense sense of unity- that I felt.
Let me first talk about the music, and then I’ll bring you into its mysticism. The Dark Star Orchestra, a band that’s been in existence for 20 years, (formed soon after the Dead disbanded in the late 90s), has performed over 3000 shows re-creating live music moments felt by the band’s avid followers. This tribute band built unique moments of their own the night I saw them play. The keyboardist acknowledged an audience member’s request and said, “Turn it up? Really? Give it a moment, will ya?” The stage had a wall of speakers and a wall of instruments, and I heard another band member say, “It never fails- we can sound check till the cows come home and we still have to make adjustments- give us a second.” There was so much build up and then they began, with the song “Jack Straw”, followed by “Friend of the Devil”. As I went from sitting to standing to dancing, I wrote in my notes: “Guitars, keys, drums, bass on fire!!” (Also, two drummers!). While I don’t know the Dead’s songs, I’ve probably been to a million shows in my life and I know when a band is having a good one;the Dark Star Orchestra certainly was. My favorite songs were the ones with words I could connect to; I swore the lyric in one song said, “spent the night in Utah” (where I was born) but maybe it was “Reno”, and my choir heart sang when I heard the tight harmonies coming from the musicians on stage. “Mama Tried” was a song I recognized and I saw the entire theater rejoice when it filled the room. It was, however, the song “The Music Never Stopped” that did it for me. I felt like I’d been transported back to the ’70s or ’80s. The song itself sounded like a time machine, filled with oohs echoed from the stage by the crowd, easy rock grooves, starts and stops that flowed effortlessly through the musicians, reaching its high point when the guitars jammed together in harmony.
The performance was the glue that held the communal aspect of the show together. I felt like I had walked into the largest family reunion ever. Strangers and friends were united in their love of the Dead and of the DSO. I overheard so many excited comments about the last time some people had seen them play, about the anticipated setlist, and about how amazing the night was, even before the show had started. People of all ages were on their feet in the beautiful and regal PPAC, drinks in their hands, high-fiving strangers, kissing on the cheek to say hello, hugging loved ones, dancing like they were at Woodstock. There was a freeness of spirit that permeated the place, hands up in the air for every chorus, everyone dancing at their seats or in the aisles, and just bursting to connect with one another. The fans had a shared language, and that made it feel like the room was filled with people who had known each other their whole lives. This was most apparent when a woman gently stroked my hair as she walked behind my row; when she realized I wasn’t who she assumed I was, she immediately apologized and said, “Oh my gosh, sorry to invade your space like that… I’m a hairdresser and you look just like my friend.” And so, I felt lucky to be there, to have experienced the infectious energy of a place filled with love and admiration for not one but two bands. If you have a chance to go see the DSO, I’d recommend it, Deadhead or not.
Want to know more? Go to the Dark Star Orchestra’s website, follow them on their spring tour, or go to the annual music festival and campaign gathering titled the “Dark Star Jubilee.” darkstarorchestra.net
