In a recent SM post,
Gary Laderman suggested that the recent widespread celebration of the Grateful
Dead represents both a plentiful harvest of the seeds sown in the
countercultural upheaval of the ‘60s and a harbinger of the future of religious
life in a country increasingly disaffiliated from major religious traditions.
Earlier this month, I surveyed 147 Deadheads anxiously awaiting the band’s penultimate
concert to explore the influence of the band on everyday Deadheads’ religious
identities.
First of all, my sample clearly indicates that Deadheads are
indeed estranged from traditional religion. When asked “which religious
tradition do you currently identify with, if any,” more than half reported that
they have none or are agnostic while less than a third identified with a major religious
tradition. 62% of respondents reject the religious tradition they were raised
in, though most of these describe themselves as “indifferent” rather than
“opposed” and self-described
atheists are nearly as rare as in the general population. Still,
the “Terrapin nation” which bassist Phil Lesh asked God to bless during the band’s
final encore is clearly much less conventionally religious than the American
public—even when we take into account the fact that it is disproportionately
white, male and middle-class. Within “the Scene,” “organized religion” is
regularly denigrated as passé, overly restrictive, and at odds with primary shared
values such as authenticity and self-determination.
Fans without tickets strain to hear the Grateful Dead’s final performance outside Soldier Field in Chicago on July 5th. |
On the other hand, results suggest that Deadheads are not
secularists. Rather, they prefer the more individualistic and unbounded
language of “spirituality” to describe their engagement with the sacred. While a majority report that “religion” is
“not at all” or “not too important” in their lives, over three quarters assert
that “spirituality” is “very important” or “somewhat important.” Many commentators
have critiqued the concept of “spirituality” as vapid to the point of
meaninglessness, but it does seem to provide a window into the operation of the
sacred in the “secular” yet thoroughly enchanted world of the Grateful Dead. Preliminary
comparisons of response rates to questions included on a nationally
representative Pew study revealed that my respondents are about twice as
likely to report faith in “spiritual energy in physical things,” astrology,
reincarnation, and yoga as a spiritual practice as the general population. Deadheads
also appear considerably more likely to report mystical experiences, contact
with the deceased and ghosts and consultations with psychics and shamans. As a
group, Deadheads seem disproportionately high on the core psychological trait
of “openness to experience” and elevate it to the status of a primary virtue. Consequently, while they generally eschew
adherence to the strictures of a particular religious tradition, they are
exceptionally open to experiences of the sacred, particularly those perceived
by others as “out there.”
For many Deadheads, it doesn’t get much more sacred than a
show. An overwhelming 80% report that there has been a “spiritual quality” to
their experiences at shows and nearly half of these say “frequently.” Moreover,
86% affirm that there is a “shared spiritual culture, connection or energy
permeating this scene.” Deadheads describe both the personal and collective
experience of a show in terms highly resonant with Durkheim’s
famous concept of the “collective effervescence” at the heart of religion.
Respondents repeatedly report feeling “connected” through the shared experience
of music—to the present moment, the inner self, friends, fellow concertgoers,
the band, humanity, the universe, even God. The nature of that connection is
variously described as “transcendent,” “mystical,” “energetic,” “enlightening,”
and “magical” and grounded in “reverence,” “freedom,” “love,” “wholeness,”
“synchronicity,” “universal consciousness,” or simply shared values and tastes.
Regardless of the metaphor or mechanism, Deadheads frequently assert “we are
all one,” or as one respondent put it “there is a clear connection to everyone
on an almost cellular level.” Many affirm that “we are all here for the same
reason,” though a definitive articulation of that reason remains elusive. Many frankly
acknowledge the role that drugs, especially psychedelics, play in facilitating
such experiences but argue that they are mere tools and not constitutive of the
experience. Some even draw favorable functional comparisons to religion,
describing a Dead show as “my church,” a place where one can experience “the
joy of indeterminate ritual—communion without shared dogmatic beliefs.”
Deadheads also widely endorse the notion that these musical
experiences of the sacred have shaped them religiously. Nearly three quarters
affirm that the culture surrounding the band and their performances have
influenced their “religious/spiritual identity,” but responses are generally a
bit more hesitant and qualified here for the same reason that “organized
religion” is suspect. Within this individualistic counterculture, ascribing
influence to any large-scale cultural phenomena seems to threaten a
thoroughgoing commitment to radical subjectivity,
which ascribes complete spiritual authority to the individual. Thus, Deadheads
are comfortable describing their experiences with the band as formative to the
extent that those experiences are understood to be a collective, participatory
phenomena that further enhances their openness and individuality, rather than a
top-down performance engendering conformity. Some explicitly credit the Dead
with helping them to “think beyond [their] ‘traditional’ religious practices”
and “open [their] mind while holding my own beliefs” through “expanded
consciousness” and the experience of “love and freedom [without]
proselytization.” Others attribute ethical and spiritual benefits such as benevolence,
hope, gratitude, or even “seeing others as they truly are,” while some simply
shrug and observe, “it’s who I am.”
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It is the alternative character and quality of the social
world that gradually gathered around the Grateful Dead that has granted it its
significant cultural power as much or more than the wealth of music the band
created over the course of its “long strange trip.” And that social world is
more of a continual, collective reimagining of the counterculture of the ‘60s
than it is a true continuation of it—an ongoing “psychedelic tradition” if you
will. Fare Thee Well felt more like a multi-generational extended family
reunion than a big baby boomer stroll down memory lane. The fairly low average
age of my cross-sectional sample (34) is indicative of the steady stream of
fresh converts throughout the band’s half-century history. It is important to
remember that the Grateful Dead were largely a minor, local phenomenon when
psychedelic rock was popular enough to have a real countercultural edge—that
is, when it was perceived as both significantly large and threatening to pose a
significant critique to mainstream culture. The Dead built their subcultural
empire through a grassroots marketing strategy during the heyday of disco and over-produced
pop in a manner that passively bypassed rather than proactively countered
popular culture. The exponential growth of this subculture facilitated by the
Dead’s expansion from dancehalls in the ‘70s to football stadiums in the ‘80s
continued apace through the ‘90s and into the ‘00s as a wide variety of “jam
bands” and Grateful Dead side projects and spinoffs rose up to carry forward
the Dead’s mantle in the wake of Jerry Garcia’s death. Like most American
subcultures, “the Scene” possesses a powerful influence on adherents’
identities, values, consumption patterns and politics to the degree that it
presents a more or less coherent alternative to mainstream culture. That alternative
is in turn generally ignored by the wider society, except of course, for the
occasional parody.
Deadheads hanging outside Soldier field, looking for a “miracle”Even the folks at Chicago’s Field Museum agree, “Everything is Dead" |
The widespread, glowing coverage of the Dead’s 50th
anniversary celebration through mainstream media outlets (not
to mention a nod from the White House) signals yet another shift. The
originally radically countercultural and later decidedly subcultural
“psychedelic tradition” has been gradually transformed from an isolated
subculture to yet another offering on the mainstream American cultural menu. Fare Thee Well was more than a handful
of big concerts, it was a major national phenomenon. All five shows were
streamed live to countless bars, movie theatres and living rooms across the
country using the most powerful video and audio technology available. The city
of Chicago was overwhelmed by many thousands more Deadheads than could fit in
Soldier Field on any given night, and the excess spilled into dozens of other
cover band and jam band shows held throughout the long weekend at venues around
the city. Even the skies were filled with planes and blimps bearing classic
Dead lyrics. I experienced firsthand how these shows and the massive response
fostered far more than a few football stadiums worth of collective
effervescence—from the multi-generational streaming party I attended at a
former stranger’s home in Raleigh on Friday night, to the day-long trek my wife
and I made from Durham to Soldier Field on Saturday, to the Sunday “Weir World”
stream party in Chicago for those unable to score tickets for the final show to
the Jerry tribute after-show held at the House of Blues in the wee hours of
Monday morning. I have entered the alternative reality surrounding the Grateful
Dead and their ilk countless times, but I have never seen that world take over
the “real world” like this before.
This article is posted in conjunction with Sacred Matters: Religious Currents in Culture.
This article is posted in conjunction with Sacred Matters: Religious Currents in Culture.