by Gary Sacco

Created on: February 24, 2009

The entire concept of declaring a "favorite band" is so flawed. It's an elusive undertaking. Life's stages and experiences dictate change, here. I'd be willing to wager that very few music fans have a single favorite band their entire lives. The very first record I received as a gift, from my parents happened to be "Sonny and Cher's Greatest Hits." I must have played it hundreds of times. The couple was number one in my pre-adolescent mind. Then came a fleeting love affair with my parent's old Three Dog Night albums.

I was, or so I thought, a teenage rock visionary, choosing the Doors over all other bands. The eerily dreamy keyboards blended perfectly with "The Lizard King's" lyrical mysticism. A junior year English presentation, I gave, argued that Jim Morrison was still alive. Predictably, the entire class looked at me, astonished at my insane topic. Proudly, I remember an excellent grade. The Doors shadowy style yielded to pure Who fever during my senior year. The noisy quartet, loosing ambition and patience with each other, arrived for an American farewell tour. I secured a ticket, and during unmatched excitement at Rich Stadium, declared the Who rock gods! A notion emphatically validated as it gently showered during "Love Reign O'er Me," stopping at songs end! Naturally, I'd outgrow them, too. My penchant for discarding lasting loyalty was now a pattern. Certainly, I'd be a musical vagabond, constantly switching "favorite bands" my entire adult life.

Then, at a friend's urging, I discovered something different in April of 1984, the aging, nontraditional, and commercially unsuccessful Grateful Dead. From Phil Lesh's first thumping bass chords of opening tune, "Shakedown Street," I was enthralled with the atmosphere. The crowd was loose, man, pretty stoned, too. Dancers were shaking it in the concourses! The usual packed front stage area was navigable. I wandered within feet of Jerry Garcia! The second set was a little more abstract. Wild jams and a powerful dual drum solo, appropriately known as "Drumz" by Deadheads, dominated. Songs were longer and there were few stoppages. I wasn't used to bands segueing from one song to the next! We'd each dropped acid to enhance the experience. What a night it was. Yet, would it become an indelible moment? I wondered how it would feel when I came down, a considerable few hours later. Yes, the party was fun. I wasn't convinced about the band's music, though.

Soon after, I'd embark on a period of musical research relating

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