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The Judas Factor:
Dylan Jam Bands and their Audiences
by Guy Stevens gstevens@clw.org

When I think of jam bands, I don't normally think of Bob Dylan. After all, in spite of his association with the Dead and his strong live performances (which do include a great amount of vocal improvisation), Dylan is not usually thought of as a jamming musician. I was a little surprised, therefore, that as I listened to Dylan's new album "Live - 1966" I found myself thinking about jam bands, and about Bob Dylan's relationship with them. There are many obvious elements to Dylan's influence on jam bands; he is, after all, an incredibly talented artist. But "Live - 1966" made me think about the more subtle issue of the ways in which jam bands and their audiences interact with one another. To understand why, you must first understand the events leading up to the recording of "Live - 1966."

Bob Dylan is one of the most influential artists in popular music. Dylan revolutionized rock songwriting; first by melding the socially conscious lyrics of folk music with the driving rhythms of rock and roll, then by writing and setting to music the soul searching poems which gave birth to the singer/songwriter movement. It was Dylan's remark to John Lennon that the Beatles would be a much better band if they bothered to write real lyrics that caused Lennon to begin focusing on his songwriting with "Norweigan Wood." Dylan was also a style setter, who perfected his rebellious image well before the Stones and is widely credited with introducing the Beatles to marijuana.

Dylan's most rebellious act, however, was to go electric. Beginning at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, he began supplementing his acoustic sets with a set backed by a full electric rock band. He might as well have dropped an atomic bomb on his audience. While some fans recognized Dylan's genius in creating the first true synthesis of rock and folk, most thought him a sell out. But Dylan was not just any sell out. It was one thing for Donovan or the Mamas and the Papas to strive for commercial success, but Dylan was seen as the great hope of the folk music - a genius on the level of Woodie Guthrie or Pete Seeger. Now, though, Dylan was not only flirting with commercialism, but he was doing it at a deafening volume - so loudly in fact that Pete Seeger is said to have fled the Newport Folk Festival and hidden in his car with his hands over his ears.

Shortly after Newport, Dylan toured Europe with the Hawks (who would later become The Band) backing him. The band played before openly hostile audiences. There were jeers and catcalls at every performance. If Dylan were not too stubborn, they would have been booed off stage every night. "Live 1966" was recorded at one of the final concerts of this tour.

The first disc of this set contains Dylan's acoustic set. As Dylan performs gorgeous versions of "Visions of Johanna," "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue," "Desolation Row" and others, the audience listens in reverent silence until they erupt in adoring applause after each song. This is the Bob Dylan they love, the hero they came to hear. The second disc is a whole other story. After a minute of noodling and tuning, the band explodes into a cacophonous rendition of "It's All Right Mama." For the next hour they play one of the best sets of rock and roll ever recorded. I'm not kidding. It's really that good. Robbie Robertson and Garth Hudson provide sizzling bluesy leads over the band's propulsive rhythm section, and Dylan literally howls half of his passionate lyrics and spits the rest out in a knowing sneer. The songs are magnificient, the performance is electrifying, and there is not a single moment when you don't believe that the band is not completely sincere

Unfortunately, the audience didn't see it that way. Between every song (the only time the band is quiet enough for the audience to be heard), the audience boos and screams insults. The atmosphere is one of outright hostility. Finally, as the band prepares to end the set, someone in the audience screams "Judas!" There is a moment of stunned silence, scattered applause , then Dylan replies "I don't believe you. I think you're a liar." Then, to the band, "Play fucking LOUD." There is a crack of the snare, and the band launches into "Like a Rolling Stone." In this performance, one can't help but believe that Dylan isn't singing his stinging lyrics about diletanttes and poseurs to the audience, but about them.

So how is it that though the audience makes its disgust with the performers evident, the band manage to play a set of music that holds up, over thirty years later, as one of the finest moments in rock and roll? Was it because they were such consummate professionals that they could carry a performance in spite of the catcalls? Well, some of the later work of all concerned disproves this attractive notion. Perhaps they just didn't care what the audience thought? That's possible, but the passion and energy in every tune on the album make it seem unlikely that they were just phoning it in. Those who have already heard this recording already know the answer to this question. It is clear that, in some perverse way, the b and is feeding off the audience's energy, magnifying it and directing it right back at them.

This dynamic is familiar to most people who read Jambands. The dynamic of picking up on the energy of the crowd and using it to intensify your own performance is common to almost all jam bands, and is one of the distinguishing features of this type of music. All performers, be they musicians, actors, dancers or anything else, are conscious of the energy and mood of the audience, and their performances are affected by this energy. Improvising performers, however, are particularly susceptible to variations in crowd energy. When you're making it up as you go along, your mood plays a huge part in deciding where to go next. For the best improvising musicians, the crowd's reaction can cause songs to move in directions they never have before, taking on radical changes of character as they do. This is not the case for non-improvising performers. While audience reaction can certainly affect actors and actresses performing a play, it affects the presentation of the play, not the form of the play. While performing for a particularly responsive audience, the cast may present a particularly intense, convincing or nuanced performance, but they're not likely to spontaneously change the ending of the play to fit the mood of the audience ("Oh, they're having so much fun, let's not have Hamlet die in the last act after all").

Many musicians who play in jam bands have spoken about the importance of musician/audience interaction. Phish, in particular, has been blunt about the degree to which audience interaction is central to their approach to making music. Every band member has mentioned the dynamic in interviews, and the band made a collective statement about it at the Great Went in 1997, when the band and audience collaborated in creating a giant sculpture symbolic of this relationship.

Audience/musician interaction in the jam band scene can best be described as a feedback loop. The band begins playing a song for the audience. The audience hears the music and reacts to it. The band receives the audience response, and reacts to it in their playing. The audience then reacts to this playing and the cycle continues throughout the performance. The audience/musician relationship at the Dylan concert on "Live 1966" is also a feedback loop. The band begins playing rock and roll. The crowd reacts negatively. The band responds by playing more vigorously. Catcalls begin. This relationship continues to build until it climaxes with the transcendent performance of "Like a Rolling Stone."

While the dynamics of audience/performer interaction at the Great Went and the Dylan concert were identical, the flavor clearly was not. Tens of thousands of Phish fans danced happily to Bathtub Gin, freaked out to Down with Disease, and gazed beatificully at the moon during Harry Hood at the Went. It's unlikely that many harbored feelings of anger or outright betrayal. At the Dylan show these feelings were the norm rather than the exception, and it's unlikely that many fans felt blissed out. Yet both performances used the intensity of audience involvement to propel them to extreme heights of performance.

While both performances are satisfying, this difference in character makes them satisfying in different ways. The Great Went was happy, trippy and beautiful. When listening to "Live 1966," on the other hand, one feels anger toward the audience then immense pleasure as Dylan and the band overcome what seem to be insurmountable obstacles to create art of the highest quality. Not only are these not feelings one experiences listening to the Great Went, they are feelings I have never experienced listening to today's jam bands.

To a great degree, this is not surprising. After all, jam bands don't normally play to openly hostile audiences. Nor would I want them to. But it is important to note that "Live 1966" evidences a type of audience/musician interaction which is not being investigated by jam bands. If there is one other type of interaction not being explored, there are probably many others. This leads me to believe that there are whole realms of emotions being left untouched.

The first several generations of jam bands actually did explore new ways of relating to their audiences. The Grateful Dead and their contemporaries explored new avenues of interaction simply by playing highly improvisational music to begin with. The first of the modern jam bands - Phish, Widespread Panic, Blues Traveler and their ilk - also championed improvisational music during a period when popular music generally eschewed spontaneity. In addition, Phish's early blend of musical sophistication and general goofiness tried to forge paths in audience/musician interaction which were unexplored by the Grateful Dead (though Frank Zappa operated in this arena to a large extent).

Now, however, we are seeing third and fourth generation jam bands emerging. If we are lucky, these new bands will be as open to exploring audience/musician interactions as their predecessors were. Granted, this is not an easy thing to do. One is not as likely to wake up in the morning with an idea for how to interact with an audience by playing upon feelings of heartbreak and isolation as they are with a great idea for a song which merges techno and ska. These interactions are much more likely to be stumbled upon by mistake. Dylan probably did not anticipate the degree of animosity which going electric would cause in his audiences. But when this did happen, and when he reacted by defiantly playing some of the most fiery rock and roll ever heard, he was smart enough to realize that something exciting was going on. Rather than shrinking from it, he embraced it, and let it lead him to new and different heights of performance.

I would encourage today's jam bands and their audiences to follow Dylan's example by striving to be aware of how they are interacting with each other. If something strange happens, don't shrink from it, but explore it. Try to recreate it and see what happens. Most jam bands display a great willingness to experiment stylistically and improvisationally. Audience/musician interaction should be just one more area of experimentation.

Oh, and go out right now and buy "Bob Dylan - Live 1966."

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Guy Stevens is a political activist and musician living in the District of Columbia. Please don't hold that against him.

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