On New Year’s Eve 1988, Clarence Clemons – the Big Man himself or, as Bruce Springsteen variously introduced him as part of the E Street Band, the Socrates of the saxophone, king of the world, master of the universe, minister of soul – took the stage with the Grateful Dead. And it was the start of an occasional year-long collaboration that included five Dead shows, a host of Jerry Garcia Band concerts, and one Clarence tripping balls on stage after taking a Big Man sized handful of shrooms with the boys. The period also almost resulted in Clarence joining the Dead as a permanent member or, at least, becoming housemates with Jerry and Bobby.
While Clarence’s horn continually fit in beautifully with JGB, his contributions to the Dead were more uneven. On some tunes, he would add his powerful sound and R&B flair, taking the song to another level. On others, Clarence seemed tentative or, worse yet, discordant with the vibe and aimlessly bleating.
Regardless though, Clarence ramped up the cool factor every moment he was on stage. Just check out his first appearance with the band. Coming out for the third song of the first set, after a stellar standalone Franklin’s Tower, it could have been a total letdown. And Clarence is hesitant at first. But then, the Big Man gets the groove, the crowd roaring their approval. And it is something to behold as Clarence, strutting with the sax, blasts away these elemental runs that are just soaking in cool. Jerry even catches a little of the Big Man’s juju, shuffling his feet in the closest thing Garcia got to dancing in a long time.
Clarence and Jerry go back and forth on that Wang Dang Doodle and, especially, in the West LA Fadeaway that comes next. And this is prime Clarence with the Dead: bringing his cool, priming Jerry, adding some powerful riffs, and ever so occasionally, as he does on Going Down The Road Feeling Bad later in the night, opening up and blasting out a solo that Jerry eventually picks up and runs off with.
But Clarence is also out for the Sugar Magnolia in that same show where his contributions are staid and disconnected. In 1989, as Clarence continued to join the Dead, the Grateful Dead scholar Blair Jackson wrote that, “I’m afraid on a very basic level, he doesn’t understand how to jam with the Dead; it’s just alien to him.” And that was not completely unfair. The Big Man could blast a solo like nobody else, but he wasn’t too good at adding regular strokes to the Dead’s rich sonic texture. And, as many have pointed out, it was exactly these qualities that made Clarence more at home with JGB; just check out GarciaLive volume 13 with the Big Man on sax.
Jerry and Bobby were clearly happy with Clarence’s presence. In 2013, in an interview with Rolling Stone, Bobby even said that “Jerry and I would’ve gone for” Clarence joining the Dead as a permanent member, something that Bobby felt Clarence was aiming for. “But,” he continued, “I’m not sure everyone else would.”
The relationship between Jerry, Bobby, and Clarence had developed off the stage as well. As Bobby said, again to Rolling Stone, this time in 2011, “He was a good hang…he, Jerry, and I mixed it up a bit.” What’s more is that Clarence suggested that the three of them – all single at the time – move in together. Bob explained, “Jerry and I almost went for it. It would’ve been a lot of fun, but I don’t think anyone would have survived.”
Almost as quickly as Clarence entered the Dead orbit in 1988 and 1989 – as the E Street Band disbanded and the Big Man moved to Marin – he seemed to depart it. His last appearance with the Dead was almost a year to the date after his first, on December 27, 1989, in Oakland, when he joined the band for an Iko, Playin’, Wheel, and Miracle. And it might be at that last show that Clarence had his big mushroom trip with the Dead. As David Browne explains in So Many Roads:
at Oakland Coliseum a bag of mushrooms was passed around backstage. Seeing the container on a table, Clemons exclaimed, ‘I wanna get high with the Grateful Dead!’ Handing him the bowl, Garcia cracked, ‘Well, here you go!’ Big and gregarious, Clemons dropped to his knees between Weir and Garcia, reached into the batch of mushrooms with his large hands, grabbed a handful, and tossed them down. Clemons seemed fine—until he sat in with the band and, halfway into the set a large, confused smile overtook his face.
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