A Priceless Business Leadership Lesson From The Grateful Dead

By Eli Amdur

Phil Lesh, the Grateful Dead’s singularly iconic and beloved bassist, died last week at age 84. He was a beautiful musician, a wonderful man, a sweet soul. He also – through his identifiably unique approach to his instrument and how it becomes so integral to the band’s creative development – exemplified more than just music.

And the lessons we learned from him – and the boys – are more applicable to business than ever before. The timeliest of all comes from Phil, expressed in his book, Searching for the Sound (2005).

“Infinite mutability…”

The essence of the Grateful Dead, he explained, is “the infinite mutability of our music.”

If anything personified the Dead – and explained their longevity, both up to and since Jerry Garcia’s untimely and shocking death in 1995 – that was it: infinite mutability. My personal library contains about 40 volumes on, about, or by the Dead, but I can neither point to anything more essential nor can I express it more compellingly than that: infinite mutability. And if anything signals a business survival mandate in today’s dizzyingly changing world, that’s still it: infinite mutability.

A CEO’s major charge: Change.

Call it what Phil did or call or adaptability or holistically changing or innovative or flexible, Phil nailed it. Successful CEOs will be the first to agree.

From the time I attended my first Grateful Dead show at New York’s legendary Fillmore East, sometime in late 1968 or early 1969 (can’t remember exactly, but that’s typical of old Deadheads like me, heh-heh, who went to something like 120 of their concerts – also a close enough estimate), I recognized that about them. Every time they stepped on stage, they were a living, breathing experiment in creativity, fearless about treading new ground, easily drifting into their 20-minute jams (or more) on “Dark Star” or “Goin’ Down the Road” or “Morning Dew” or just about anything else that floated through, anything was possible. So for the 30 years from their creation to Jerry’s death – and in the 29 years since – they stayed fresh, new, fearless, and constantly innovative.

And who pointed us to this lesson? Phil, that quiet, unassuming bassist who usually could be seen stage right, away from the glare of the spotlight, while Jerry and Bobby took vocal and instrumental leads and Mickey and Billy wove together an integrated drum partnership you’d find nowhere else. All the while. There was Phil – the most innovative bassist I ever saw – laying down a foundation to support the Dead’s infinite mutability, at times pulsating and forceful, at others as lyrical as a Jerry Garcia lead. For mere mortal bassists, that was not even a distant possibility, let alone a practical thought.

For Phil, it was a way of being.

Make no mistake about this, each of the boys – and later, Donna Jean – were integral in creating the most unique band in history. So, it’s easy to understand this: without Phil, the Grateful Dead, talented as they were, would not have been the band we know.

In that light, I can see Phil approaching the Pearly Gates, Saint Peter recognizing his special new arrival and turning around to others already there, and declaring, “OK, boys. You can tune up now. Phil’s here.”

Infinitely mutable as ever. Forever.