He's Got a Knife
By Dan Alford djalford@yahoo.com

The cliched perception of the Jambands community is well known to us all: roses, stars, smiles dancing, and good times. Mainstream media still refers to us as the inheritors of the Dead's legacy (although plenty of us were around for a good part of their reign and others hate the San Francisco ensemble) or as "neo-hippies", whatever that means... Images of peace symbols, flowing skirts, and huge smiles abound in newspapers the night after a show or on the ten o'clock news. Of course there is some truth to those superficial descriptions; there certainly is a ton good vibes, joyful revelry, and tie-dyed ecstasy. And we propagate many of those images of ourselves by ourselves. I spent the better part of my high school and college years doodling psychedelic suns and exploding sunflowers...

But there is also, of course, the darker side of all realities, namely the reality of them. Everyone has seen a devastated parking lot after a show; after a two or three-day festival it can be a sourly sobering sight. There is no point in commenting on that most dreadful of all horrors- the Port-a-let. Belligerent drunks and nitrous zombies begging for a "kick-down" of any change can destroy a good vibe, and people talking and yelling during a set can cause an atmosphere of frustration that can take over a number people in a matter of minutes. And overzealous security is no walk in the park either.

This dynamic dichotomy exists in all levels of life, and the Jambands scene, for many people, is a way of life. It goes beyond partying, the music, and even the philosophies to become a truly integral part of your being.

It is the music, however, that is the instigating force for every other part of the scene. And just as the scene contains both joys and horrors, so that of which it is a reflection runs a range of emotional peaks and valleys. Who doesn't love a fun filled, upbeat song like "Funky Bitch", "Suzie", "Might As Well", or "Music"? Those are songs that raise spirits from the very first notes. They are hot sparks of energy that send feet flying and heads bobbin'. Quick, bright guitar solos, fast fillers, and funky bass lines, these are the things that can ignite a fire in your soul or just spread a grin across your lips. That is what most people go to a show to get, but more often than not they also get a taste of something else.

A major part of many sets consists of some of the most terrifying and utterly haunting sounds you will ever hear. In the molten core of a "Playin'" meltdown you can hear the hot breath of that creature that lingers just on the edges of your consciousness, waiting to push you over the edge. The footsteps of a killer can echo loudly in the midst of a frantic "Helicopters", and the dissonance of a "Bowie" jam that stretches for just a second too long has threatened to send me running for the relative peace of the hallways more than once. Jambands create some of the darkest most gut wrenching music around- stuff that is far more potent than angry lyrics or loud guitars- stuff that threatens to show you what you really are...

But on some level you have to wallow in all parts of life, to look at every angle and struggle with understanding. So go grab a tape, put on head phones and go for a walk... grin widely when you hear that perfect solo, and welcome the cold shiver that makes you turn down the volume or take off the phones altogether... That is the stuff of great music- the stuff that expresses what no words can...