An album of many milestones for the Grateful Dead, Aoxomoxoa remains an all-important moment. It not only cements the Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia writing partnership but hears the band move away from the covers of their self-titled debut and follow-up, moody blues Anthem of the Sun, and into a psychedelic rock which would forever define them. But it would also set them on a path of excess, of debts to their record label and put them in the bad books. Well worth it. Their ambitious choices here, the slick motions of opener St. Stephen through to the fascinating layers of What’s Become of the Baby, still define Grateful Dead as a travelling psychedelic circus, as Bill Kreutzmann quipped. He was not far off and while Aoxomoxoa would be the last time the band racked up such a financial bill, it would not be the last time they presided over a gluttonous experience in the studio. Far from it.
Despite those expenses, Aoxomoxoa sounds of the times. Its sound is no different to the psychedelic trials, or even the pop momentum, heard in the likes of The Zombies or The Turtles on the other side of the pond. What stands out here for the Dead are pieces like Dupree’s Diamond Blues, exceptional moments where the country fundamentals and the post-Magical Mystery Tour influences are heard. It feels twee and romantic, relatively fresh and still paired with this lighter thrill which separates the excesses of the time from what is a neat track of golden rings and materialistic want. These are songs of intense psychedelic expression, of rewarding and often consistent experimentation in a genre now overwhelmed by those many avenues of adventurous musical opportunity. Aoxomoxoa is filled with the funk and fever of a generation coming to terms with the end of those hippie-ish ways.
What followed was monotony for many. Aoxomoxoa lingers as a last hurrah for the decade defined by Tom Wolfe and Hunter S. Thompson. The counterculture movement may find itself with an anthem or two from Aoxomoxoa but the free-wheeling way of living was at an end, and flickers of this feeling can be heard, buried in the optimism of China Cat Sunflower. Much of Grateful Dead here is at their experimental best but, as a collective project, it comes apart. What’s Become of the Baby is a sinister piece of work, a deeply disturbed song which pulls at the flowery, preceding songs. This wild dissonance is all part of the Aoxomoxoa charm, a palindrome with no meaning much like the maintenance of narrative.
These are the final glimmers of a psychedelic notion. Grateful Dead would continue on with those tones, the progressive rock formation never shaking off its psychedelic twang, for good or ill. What it means for Aoxomoxoa is an ambitious project which falls well short of expectations. Still great, make no mistake about it, but there is a desire for perfection which is simply impossible. It makes for a bold series of songs, an enjoyable constant force where the band pulls out all the stops, and begins to rely on one another, in a series of efforts which hear them grasp for one another’s influence. Closer Cosmic Charlie certainly stands tall as one of the best moments on Aoxomoxoa, but the project as a whole, while coming up short, remains a fascinating piece of work from a band which bit off more than they could chew here.
