I have always considered myself a very lucky man. I’ve been married
for more than twenty years to a woman who loves me as passionately
as I love her, and with whom I have developed a level of trust and
companionship that I never dreamed existed. We are rearing two fine
sons, both growing up straight and strong and loving. I survived
hepatitis C and a liver transplant. I was born an only child but
found my true brothers through the art of music and a series of
improbable coincidences. I am blessed with the joy of earning my way
by doing something I love-something that is so deep it can never be
boring, or run out of challenges.
Music can define life itself, and it has indeed defined my life. In
life, as in art, there are recurring themes, transpositions,
repetitions, unexpected developments, all converging to define a
form that’s not necessarily apparent until its ending has come and
gone.
I was awakened to the power of music early in life, through the
magic of radio broadcasts and by listening to my father play, from
memory, his favorite tunes on the piano. Music saved me from the
worst effects of adolescent angst, partly by giving me a very real
sense of accomplishment. It led me into a quest for knowledge and
wisdom, for the cultural, artistic, historical, and religious
context of the work that moved me so much. It has clarified my
feelings as my father lay dying, kept me company in the early light
of day as I fed my newborn sons, soothed and transported me during
life-threatening illness and surgery, and brought me illimitable joy
as I watched thousands of dancers surge and spin to the music
flowing through my band.
The Grateful Dead has always been collectively dedicated to many
ideals: family, community, freedom, risk-taking-but for me it was
always the music. With all its ups and downs, it’s an exhilarating
experience to improvise-onstage and in life-with one’s fellow
humans, who after forty years of living, working, disagreeing, and
completing one another’s thoughts musically and conversationally,
are connected by a bond that’s “thicker than blood,” as Bob Weir
likes to say.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from Searching for the Sound
by Phil Lesh
Copyright © 2005 by Phil Lesh.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Little, Brown
Copyright © 2005
Phil Lesh
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0-316-00998-9
