Attending a jamband performance is akin to going on a mental journey.  You know, they say "Getting there is half the fun".  Well in this context  getting there is really ALL the fun:).  Through the peaks and valleys of a  show I wander, sometime to phat blissful spaces, sometimes to Nowhereville,  USA.

For a typical jamband  fan, the notion is that the live performance, the "moment", the uncertainty  of improvisation holds supreme and is to be sought out.  We fans seek  out the majesty of that moment of blissful surprise when it all comes  together, and the music flows as nectar from the cup of the gods.  Yes,  these moments may be rare, especially to the jaded tourbie, yet it is the  reason many of us find ourselves sacrificing much to make it to that next show.

It is difficult to describe how  a journey-stitcher (jam musician) can transcend to creating these divine  moments.  After all, "a man is just a man".  But I contend that the search  for the moment is a basis by which all improvisational musicians are alike.   The term improvisation implies experimentation, an exhaustive search for  that deeper place.  The search itself is the "journey" that we all take  when experiencing a performance. The roads, or segments of the journey are  the sections of songs and other surrounding stimuli, with the typical sonic  signposts (verses, heads, bridges) along the way.  During an extended  jam, the journey really gets under way.  This is when the not-so-typical  signposts occur.  Consider the dynamic shifts between high and low energy,  when the un-typical solo instrument breaks out, or that uncanny ability of  some groups to be able stop or turn the groove on a dime.  In the extended  jam- my favorite place ;)  it is the collective ears, backgrounds, and adventurousness of the band  members that effectively "stitch" the segments of the journey together.

Oh, and let's  not forget how the other senses add to the journey.  The non-aural stimuli  may contribute as much the sounds themselves (consider lights, smells, that  sweaty phreak boogeying beside you).  Altogether, the journey delivered  to participants of a jam performance is a culmination of an insanely  complex set of variables coming together to create a truly unique moment.   Yes, a moment that never existed before and never will again.  Ahhhh...a  live performance!  Tapers may get the sounds, but recreating other stimuli  and state of mind is impossible. The "moment" is priceless.

The goal for a jamband is to throttle  the journey.  The ancients have taught us that a performance should follow  certain formulae (obviously there are exceptions to every rule!).  Each  performance, for example, should be treated as a single, complete composition.  A primary rule is that this monstrous composition should  be unique, differing in setlist and emotional content from previous  performances.  Other rules can apply, for instance:

- Start off with a warm-up or two before getting into the sick, thick of it.

- Get into the sick, thick jams in new, unexpected places. 

- Use simple, expected anchors to help  reset the emotional state, before new directions are embarked.

- Create valleys between the peaks.  Bring  it down so there's plenty of room to get back up.

- Shelve some, break out others.  Keep 'em guessing.

- Lights, fog, atmosphere!

- Don't force anything.  Sometimes the "moment"  will not come.  Be patient and it will happen unexpectedly.  Expectations  are our enemy. Surrender to the flow. (OK, enough cliches - you get it ;)

Above all, don't be afraid to go out on a limb.  The more  adventurous the experiments of the journey stitchers, the deeper the experience  may be. Of course, sometimes the "depths" can be horrible, ones which but for the jamband listener's tolerance, would lead them to run away in agony (or at least leave in boredom;).  But risks have to be taken.  I have had my best show moments when a player in the band reaches for something and misses, maybe hitting the note 1/2 step above the intended.  There is something magical about that unexpected mistake.  It creates a new possibility, while reminding us of the total frailty of the players - they are human and it's beautiful.   The journey has its own frail life - it can be nourished and sustained or killed at any moment.

When in those depths of experimentation, when the planets align  and the magic moment is attained, it all becomes worthwhile.  I believe  that jambands of any stature (Phish down to the basement bands) encounter  moments that surprise even the creators.  For that moment may sound  like the most beautiful thing ever experienced.  Certainly not something  created by a regular folks. 

You see, I am a guitarist who strives for this state in my own  performances.  I'm not special.  Anyone who has the hunger for  it can do it, IMO.  And what I have observed is that when that rare, blissful  phat groove is achieved, I feel more like a spectator than a performer.   I am feeling the same things that I would feel if I were in the audience  and watching another band do it.  Some may call this a form of channeling,  but I think it's more likely a type of schizophrenia.  The technical,  dexterous being is going though the rote of physical patterns of  movement, using airwaves to close the loop between ear and hands,  while the playful open-eared listener is getting stoked, experiencing the  infinitesimal subtleties as carefully crafted substance from a higher  power.  How he do dat?

Now comes the good part: it just cycles around and around on itself,  building and building until someone from band or audience initiates  direction change and brings it back to emotional stability.  Eyes  meet around the room -  glances convey the message.  We all know what  just happened - SWEEEEET.  A wave of exhilaration overpowers us.  We  ride it out, then we move on.  "Gee I hope that came out on tape."

Isn't it funny how we have increasingly higher standards, yet  many of us still encounter the "best ever" on a somewhat regular basis.   Good thing! It seems like a paradoxical situation.  How can the "best" happen  again and again.  Was the last time really less better that this time?   Maybe but maybe not.  Consider that our memory physically may not be able  to capture the essence of a "moment".  All we remember is the music made  us really high and we thought to ourselves "this is the best".   Remembering that there was a best in the past and experiencing a "best",  I think the current emotional wave will win.  This time truly was best  (until the next...).

I believe the congealing force to the jamband scene is that  the community is comprised of not only listeners but creators.  Audience and  player are really at the same level because all are seeking the same thing.  Knowledge, thought, freedom, emotion, happiness.  Whether dancing  with all you've got or noodling on the fretboard, we love that encounter  with the elusive moment.  May all of your jamband moments be "best ever"!

Jeff Larson plays guitar in the band Ol' Brown Shoe. More info on his band is available at www.olbrownshoe.com