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Showing posts with label Early '70's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Early '70's. Show all posts

Monday, March 11, 2013

1970 June 4 - Fillmore West

Grateful Dead
Thursday, June 4, 1970
Fillmore West - San Francisco, CA
Audience Recording

Few and far between are complete audience tapes of the Grateful Dead in 1970 which include the acoustic opening set, the New Riders of the Purple Sage middle set, and the electric Dead closing set. Fewer still are those that sound as good as any AUD tape could in that year. Here, however, is just such a tape.

The Dead left the Bay area at the end of April, 1970 and embarked on a six week, 17 show tour hitting mostly college campuses on the east coast, along with a night at the Fillmore East in New York and spending  a couple days overseas in England. Despite the spotty completeness of recordings from this run, it’s an epic tour, giving us some of the very best shows of the year - the fabled and iconic May 2nd show at Harpur College easily springs to mind. 


On those audience tapes we do have from this run, there is no shortage of excited energy in the crowds, something we’ve come to call that “east coast vibe.” This is just the first thing thing that makes the tape from June 4th, 1970 at the Fillmore West in San Francisco an intoxicating experience - the vibe is decidedly “west coast” - the audience is unmistakably lower key than those at Dead shows out east. And that only scratches the surface of what makes the 06/04/70 AUD tape a fantastic listen.

If you’ve listened to a lot of 1969-1971 Grateful Dead, you will quickly pick up the feeling of the band being “at home” on this tape from the Fillmore West. No one is in a hurry. Nothing pushes the evening along. But it’s more than that. There is also the sound of the band in this hall.  I’m not just talking about the amazing tape recording - speaking of... my goodness, uh... wow - I’m talking about a particular taste to the sound of the PA, the mic placement, the acoustic guitars, the vocals, the drums (especially cymbals). With Bear still not quite yet on his way to federal prison, he is as much present on this recording as the entire band. The sound here at the Fillmore West exudes a sense that he is truly in his element. The room sounds that good.  Perhaps it was just the comfort of a known stomping ground and house equipment, but the sonic nature of space within this room is stunning.

While those who need to find fault may point to the less than perfect levels and clarity of low-end on this tape, it’s hard to be disappointed with this listening experience. And again, as a 1970 AUD tape? Whoa.

Set One - Grateful Dead Acoustic: Monkey and the Engineer, Deep Elem Blues, Candyman, Silver Threads and Golden Needles, Friend of the Devil, Black Peter, Cumberland Blues, Wake Up Little Suzie, Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Uncle John's Band

Set Two - New Riders of the Purple Sage: Working Man's Blues, If You Hear Me When I'm Leaving, Whatcha Gonna Do, I Don't Know You, Portland Woman, Truck Drivin' Man, Superman, Louisiana Lady, All I Ever Wanted, Henry, Last Lonely Eagle, Fair Chance To Know, The Race is On, Mama Tried, Honky Tonk Women

Set Three - Grateful Dead Electric: Casey Jones, Me and My Uncle, Hard to Handle, It's a Sin, China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider, Attics of My Life, It's a Man's World, New, New Minglewood Blues, Good Lovin', St. Stephen > Not Fade Away > Midnight Hour, It's All Over Now Baby Blue


The acoustic set is about as close to the Grateful Dead’s back porch as we are going to get.  Relaxed, and with no expectations (save for a good deal of complaints over getting the monitors to work properly), the set displays a tremendous intimacy. There is a fragile honesty to the proceedings, without a hint of pretension anywhere. The guitars are warm, the vocals round. In Candyman, the drum and cymbal work are so well mixed, they seem to be perched on the listener’s shoulder.  More than feeling like you are on stage with the band, it feels like the band is in your head. The song wraps with the band saving a complete vocal train wreck so well, you’re left thinking this was just some alternate way they decided to treat the very end of the tune tonight.

Sublime acoustic Grateful Dead continues. Once David Nelson and Marmaduke from the Riders join them on stage at Cumberland, good goes to great. The closing Uncle John’s Band, again with those drums so well placed up in the mix, is gorgeous. We finally see the audience energy rise - ready for true lift off.


When the New Riders of the Purple Sage take the stage, to obviously state that things become more electric it an understatement. This band (with Jerry on pedal steel from inception through October, 1971 - you knew that already, right?) approaches psychedelia with ninja-like skills.  You almost don’t catch it until you start listening just below the surface of this country rock five-piece. 

Early Riders music shimmers with a taffy pulling goo. Drums, guitar and pedal steel are all continually appearing, receding and reappearing from a wash of rippling melodies. Mickey Hart (on drums until late November, 1970) is hell bent on being remembered as the most asynchronous country drummer of all time.  That he manages to keep the music driving forward is quite a testament to his drumming chops, because he takes advantage of every opportunity to go after beats that are not on the one, two, three or four - as if he is scoring a game measured in such things. He is winning this game, and causing everything in the musical orbit to open into ellipses and other complicated mathematics (see Louisiana Lady - he scores into the bonus round on that tune). David Nelson’s guitar play twangs as if played by fourteen fingers, let alone four.  And Garcia on steel... well, the guy knew how to work an instrument - even one he continually admitting to being woefully incapable of finding the time to master.

The Riders’ set is fantastic. In their own world of musical documentation, June 1970 is woefully under-represented (this tape marks one of only two June 1970 evenings we have), so catching this complete set in such breathtaking detail is a dream come true. Things continue to swirl and elevate as their set continues. Whatcha Gonna Do, and I Don’t Know You begin to peel back the veil of straightforward country rock completely, as the music drives in a cyclone of song. The evening is becoming more electric on all counts. The Riders are the glue, the transparent fully explored example of how a late 60’s psychedelic juggernaut like the Grateful Dead could so naturally release Working Man’s Dead and American Beauty here in 1970. Through the Riders, it all comes together. It all makes more sense.  And then it all explodes into a carnival of colors when the electric Dead take the stage...

Casey Jones is delivered in near perfect LP replication.  The energy soars and the hi-stepping Grateful Dead march is in full swing. The audience recording brings all of this into intimate focus. It still feels like the entire band is exploding in the palm of your hand. This quality emanating from a 1970 AUD is not something typical, and it forces one to take pause and smile. This is really good.

The set list is interesting for its lack of Dark Star or Other One, though perhaps understandable with a long weekend ahead filling out this stand. More interesting is finding a version of “It’s A Sin” showing up. We are missing the first hunk of the song, but still... we have no known previous record of this song being played in 1970 whatsoever. So, pretty cool.

The China>Rider (also clipped at the start) is ferocious. It has all the charging madness of a 1968 China Cat Sunflower, and Garcia’s guitar tone blazes with deafening, sun streaming power. The transition into I Know You Rider is nicely done, and the band keeps a quick clip moving which lends even more energy to the tune.

The stand alone Attics of My Life is a treat, despite the overdriven vocals. It somehow seems sedate in comparison to the outright spiritual awakening that is communicated in the version a few weeks later on 6/24/70.


Then we come to It’s A Man’s World.  One of only a dozen known versions, all occurring between April and September 1970, this song is full of sultry swagger. Pigpen howls and howls, with the band cooly chugging below. As Garcia starts working into his solos, everything jells. The band comes alive and casts serpentine phrases and rhythms over the crowd. The song flies with a transcendent “Eleven” vibe, like a jam pulled right out of 1969. Garcia’s notes fly on tiptoes leaving a trail of dancing sparkles. And a special nod to the boys’ backing vocals here - expertly delivered while kicking out such groovy underpinnings.

Now the band seems to be hitting full stride.  Minglewood bores into the chest, taking the giant sound of 1970 Dead directly back into this earliest of band standards. The solo crashes like a meteor on stage. Bobby screams, rips, roars and screams some more.

Good Lovin’ picks up directly where Minglewood and It’s A Man’s World leave off. We are rocketing forward. The mid-song Drums is clipped, but we pick up just as the band gets back down to business. All six band members are moving in different direction, and manage to congeal and disperse over and over again.  Garcia wails. His notes have become liquid fire, speeding through the sky. Everyone comes back together and concludes the song with knock out force. We are breathless. And then comes St. Stephen.

Here the audience tape provides a glimpse into the sonic tidal wave of the Grateful Dead in a fashion not readily available in any other tape this reviewer can bring to memory. After the “lady finger” section of the song proves to be intensely personal - it is so within the head that the head expands to fill all space - the flash pot/gunshot that follows becomes an endgame for the senses. The music becomes enormous, even cataclysmic, as if towering forces are locked in battle. Galaxies collide, exploding in endless eruptions. Above it all, a cymbal swell begins to take form, certainly a mainstay portion of this tune. But this tape brings it into bone bleaching focus. The swell begins to level everything in its path, yet the music muscles its way even higher. Nothing is left of personal space. There is no room left.  Here, we are lost to the music. We are gone. And the sound wall continues to roar. This one passage delivers the goods so completely, it starts to make sense why people would religiously follow the band from show to show for decades. You come out on the other side wondering, what just happened? Sensational.

Into Not Fade Away we go. More blistering work from Garcia.  It’s just a single verse, and the band tumbles into a jam that returns to St Stephen. Garcia is cartwheeling now, flinging plumes of fiery light into space. From here we move into Midnight Hour - only one of five known versions in 1970. 


The song is another Pigpen swagger punctuated by the band’s crushing hand of power. Under a lazy Pigpen rap, the band begins to take things in other directions. A very Dancin’ In The Streets style jam ensues. Jerry finds his way into extremely pastoral spaces with his solo, juxtaposed against the strut of the music nicely. His solo is soon crooning and swooning, headed toward some astral plane. The band gets it, and we become utterly lost again.  The muse of the band is singing New Potato Caboose, Caution, Dancin’ and anything else it feels like singing. Deep within this spectacular passage we hear the smallest hint from Bobby teasing back to China Cat. Before we fully confirm in our head that we just heard it, Jerry certainly did, and the band gives the theme full treatment before landing back in Midnight Hour on the back of some Garcia volume knob work.

Baby Blue (one of just three known versions in 1970) is wickedly cut short on the AUD tape due, undoubtedly, to a lack of blank tape after such a long evening. But I’m not going to scold our taper, Gerry Olsen, in any way. This tape is pure gold. We are blessed completely in our opportunity to hear it, and the window into 1970 Grateful Dead it provides for our ears. Enjoy!

06/04/70 etree source info
06/04/70 AUD download

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

1971 December 15 - Ann Arbor

Bob Weir August 15, 1971
GRATEFUL DEAD
Wednesday, December 15th, 1971
Hill Auditorium – Ann Arbor, MI
Soundboard Recording

When taking a broad stroke look at 1971 and 1972 one generally sees some stark differences. Jumping from a late April 71 show to one from the same time of the year in 1972 reveals a band that seems to have evolved far more than twelve months might allow.

A pivotal shift occurred in October 1971 when Keith Godchaux was added to the lineup, reshaping the band's rhythm section and inspiring play at all levels. Keith quickly fit right in, and as 1971 neared its close, the beast we would come to fully face in 1972 was already starting to take form. December 1971 shows have the distinct sound of metamorphosis to them.

The show on December 15th, 1971 beautifully showcases this transition for us, and contains a Dark Star that exceeds the relative obscurity of its reputation.

Set 1: Bertha, Me & Bobby McGee, Mr. Charlie, China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider, Beat It On Down The Line, It Hurts Me Too, Cumberland Blues, Jack Straw, You Win Again, Run Rudolph Run, Playin' In The Band, Brown Eyed Women, Mexicali Blues, Big Railroad Blues, Brokedown Palace, El Paso, Casey Jones
Set 2: Dark Star > Deal, Sugar Magnolia, Turn On Your Lovelight > King Bee > I'm A Man > Turn On Your Lovelight, E: One More Saturday Night

Keith Godchaux 1971The first set is packed to the rafters with classic 1971 Grateful Dead energy. Then, tucked right in the middle, a six and a half minute rendition of Playin' In The Band captures the dawning of what would eventually arrive in the months ahead. The song's jamming sees the band exploring a distinctly new direction. It's as if the band intends Playin' to stay in the format of a single, but the song's "Main Ten" thematic undercurrent will no longer be denied. The blossoming of this undercurrent is ripe with a sense of new territory for the band's improvisational talents. It really feels like the song could go on for 20 minutes but is reeled in only because the band thinks that's what is supposed to happen.

But it's the set two opening Dark Star which deserves most of our attention. It begins in a familiar sea of gentle bobbing and floating on tiny fractal waves. A caressing of melodic lines dance and twirl effortlessly, like a symphony of leaves falling from a tree. Soon the tempo drops away and a vast plain opens up where random coils of music fill spaces separated by compelling emptiness. The mood goes introspective, as dusk and moonlight pervade the scene before us. Quietly a storm brews, and sinister blood-red fire (so indicative of 1971) flashes and distorts our surroundings into a frenzy approaching madness.

But there is something more happening here. Clearly the addition of Keith to the lineup has triggered the sprouting of the powers which would find complete release in 1972 itself. The band's ability to intricately intermingle this dark and dangerous energy with their hallmark sense of triumphant, joyful expression is breathtaking here. It produces a complexity and wildness that goes beyond their already well developed psychedelic jamming style. We feel our hearts swell, while at the same time the fear of being lost to the fire never fully abates. These two extremes cycloning together encapsulate much of what the future state of the Grateful Dead would sound like. From some familiar corner of our awareness, Dark Star returns and the first verse is sung.

Jerry Garcia October 26, 1971Afterwards, the music deconstructs more perfectly than could be hoped. Sound trickles down to a murmur leaving an immeasurable expanse of physical space around us, much like we had visited a thousand years earlier in the song. The dark brooding toys with the joyful again, and infinitely intricate ripples of sound dance in cosmic unison. From within this space a slow jam is born. Bobby finds a chord progression that is part Spanish Jam, part Weather Report Suite Prelude, and the entire band picks it up with him.

Garcia proceeds to roll out solos that soar with impossible grace and fire, somehow encompassing that amazing balance of light and dark we've been experiencing this whole time. In many ways this displays the elemental muse jam which expressed itself through the band so often in 1972. There is more discovery here; more willingness to experiment rather than ride the wave. And this willingness to push sends the band to higher and higher levels of musical creativity. Eventually we are completely swept out of any ability to hold ourselves separate from the music around us. Reaching for rapturous heights, the music pierces the soul and fills the universe all at once.

I'll admit, the abrupt segue into Deal is not welcome what-so-ever. Yet, by bringing the real world crashing back into view, it provides a certain rush of adrenaline. Almost instantaneously we are strutting with the band as they deliver the song with a certain bluesy guts that is infectious. Deal ends, and we feel almost lost in the silence afterward; a vacuum completely devoid of musical adventuring.

The show charges along bringing Pigpen into the spotlight with a Lovelight > King Bee > I'm A Man > Lovelight. Tasty transitions weave a very unique Lovelight sandwich. This set closer, and the well crafted and delivered first set, serve to bookend a truly exceptional Dark Star that might more often get overlooked when one goes hunting for magical moments in the history of Grateful Dead recordings. Don't miss it.

12/15/71 SBD etree source info
12/15/71 SBD Stream

Sunday, December 27, 2009

1970 March 21 - Capitol Theater

Grateful Dead 1970
GRATEFUL DEAD
Saturday, March 21, 1970
Capitol Theater – Port Chester, NY
Audience Recording

"Calm down, you unruly freaks!"

To look at this show on paper, you can't help but raise an eyebrow. No Other One? No Dark Star? Death Don't Have No Mercy as the third song out of the gate? He Was A Friend Of Mine into Viola Lee Blues into The Seven into Cumberland Blues? Midnight Hour into Turn On Your Lovelight? This is just odd. Couple all this together with another outstanding recording from the "usher tapes" legend (Ken and Judy Lee), and you have yourself an intriguing bit of music history.

The night sparkles with energy all over the place, and more than anything this roaring 1970 concert might suggests on paper, the show continually plumbs some of the more majestic, lyrical and picturesque vistas of Grateful Dead jamming. Despite some tape age issues and gremlins that harass the early show, we once again find that the Capitol Theater was a venue fit to produce epic Grateful Dead moments that live on only by the grace of audience tapers.

EARLY SHOW
Walkin' The Dog, Me & My Uncle, Death Don't Have No Mercy, Good Lovin' > Drums > Good Lovin', Dire Wolf, Big Boss Man, He Was A Friend Of Mine > Viola Lee Blues > The Seven > Cumberland Blues


Pigpen 1970The night starts with Walkin’ The Dog as the opener (as far as we know, its debut). It has a wonderful bounce and though they rarely played this tune, it captures the 1970 Grateful Dead vibe nicely with a good, confidant strut. Me and My Uncle follows and afterwards it is clear that the crowd is extremely energized to the point that they just won't shut up. We get the obligatory calls for "St. Stephen!" along with a cacophony of shouts, cheers and claps. Actually, it's been this way since the start of the show. Perhaps as a result the next tune played is Death Don't Have No Mercy. Before it starts, Jerry says "Calm down, you unruly freaks," and it won't be the last time he says so.

Death Don't completely quiet the crowd. Somber and haunting, the band draws all attention into music. Jerry's voice burn with emotion. It lofts into falsetto at the end of lines, and hypnotizes the listener. His guitar solos are strong, almost angry, matching the emotional intensity of his singing.

After applauding the song, the crowd goes completely silent except for a slight murmur. It sounds like respect. But it only lasts about thirty seconds. Someone shouts, then someone (on stage?) breaks the ice by asking for an "E-flat" to help tune up. Laughs follow, then more song requests. In fine form, Bobby fuels the fire by remarking that they don't know the names of their own songs so everything the crowd is shouting is meaningless to the band. Hardy-har-har. Soon the crowd is clapping in time and the band busts out Good Lovin'. It's a solid version, though it doesn't take many chances. The Dire Wolf that follows is very peppy. And Big Boss Man allows Pigpen to stretch his legs nicely.

And then comes the triumph of the early show: He Was A Friend Of Mine > Viola Lee Blues > The Seven > Cumberland Blues. He Was A Friend Of Mine is so lovely. The main lead break finds Jerry exploring something that sounds quite unique to the time period. His lilting, melodic solo isn’t really Dark Star-like; nor is it Morning Dew-like. It's really more like an intense Dancin' In The Streets groove slowed down to a ballad's pace. In this setting it rotates and soars gracefully, as soft as a flower opening in the morning sun. It’s sad to think where this song could have gone if they kept it around. But this was the last one ever. At least they give it a fitting farewell.

Bob Weir 1970The tune comes to its natural end, and is immediately followed by the explosive intro of Viola Lee Blues, the full power of Phil bass exploding with great gouts of magma. 1970 Viola Lee’s tended to go at a tad slower tempo than previous years, and this rendition takes a bit of time to get the jam flying. Eventually, though, they are in high gear. While the jam is intensifying, they actually take an energy detour and mellow a bit. The drumming quiets slightly, and things get a bit ethereal, leaving the slow churn of Viola Lee behind. The music enters a loose bluesy gait for a bit before finding its footing back on the road to meltdown. The diversion adds a nice twist to the song, creating some curious variation to what is normally a non-stop uphill climb in energy.

Soon enough they are building again, and eventually reach that searing, scorching precipice that only Viola Lee could reach. Pure electric meltdown. The rush of mayhem is as blinding as it is infinitely revealing. Wind takes on the form of boulders as they continually explode and race across the stage. Utterly lost in a timeless wormhole, the band stops on a dime that seems to lurch forward, back into the original tempo of Viola Lee. Garcia’s solo out of the song’s re-immergence starts with some guttural, bluesy moans. Then he goes into fluttering triplet pull-offs for a while, and the band is swirling, not headed toward the last verse at all. This is a wonderful "musical satori" moment where the music is wanting for nothing, happy to simply be with nothing but itself being perceived.

But there’s a destination after all—the all too few times played Seven jam. The theme sounds like something of an Eric Clapton riff straight out of a song by Cream, only the jam has its own spin such that if Eric Clapton were in attendance he might have melted into the floor. Phil is rolling. Jerry is absolutely flying. The only trouble is it's far too short. That said, the transition it offers into Cumberland Blues is a piece of priceless 1970 segue jamming. Just as we are completely at the mercy of The Seven jam, thinking about Eric Clapton in a technicolor puddle on the floor, the Dead bring us lusciously into psychedelic bluegrass.

Pairing Viola Lee Blues and Cumberland this close together is about all the evidence we need to support one of my long held beliefs that at a core level the two songs draw from the exact same thematic undercurrent of inspiration. Throughout Cumberland it is easy to imagine Viola Lee bursting back out at any time. The Grateful Dead seem to be evolving before our ears here as the unmistakable nuisances of the past and future come together. The early show ends much sooner than anyone in attendance would prefer. But there’s so much more to come.

LATE SHOW
Electric I: Casey Jones, Dancin' In the Streets, Easy Wind//
Acoustic: Friend of the Devil, Deep Elem Blues, Don't Ease Me In, Black Peter, Wake Up Little Susie, Uncle John's Band, Katie Mae
Electric II: Cosmic Charlie, Saint Stephen > Not Fade Away > St. Stephen Jam > China Cat Sunflower Jam > Not Fade Away > Midnight Hour > Turn On Your Lovelight


Jerry Garcia 1970Dancin' In The Streets is an immediate highlight of the second show of the night. It clocks in around 17 minutes and wastes no time getting down to business. The audience claps along for the entire song, but you can barely hear them. The band is very, very loud. Lesh’s bass roars with a mouthful of enormous teeth. The entire theater is revved up quite nicely by the time Jerry hits his solo. Bobby leads it off with his "Everybody dance around" line and the groove is infectious. From there it becomes a swirling psychedelic dance party.

It goes on and on, and we are having the quintessential "good time." The band struts and thrusts. Then, amidst this straight ahead rocking, something changes. Phil starts noodling around with a descending chord progression that makes us open our eyes and peer beyond the physical space around us. Garcia finds some footing here too, and before we know what’s happening, a huge beam of sunlight explodes out of Jerry. He erupts into a thematic solo that burns like something we would expect in a Dark Star. It almost stops us in our dancing tracks. The unmistakable impression of the band coalescing into a singularity comes through the music. A wonderful patch of musical satori ensues and the musical muse soars. The band is firmly locked together riding waves.

Jerry and Phil continue to amaze and astound us again and again now. Phil builds large, crushing lines that defy the jam’s time signature and Jerry is right there with him. Large swollen tones begin pouring out of sitar-droning strings and a gentle slow motion garden blooms. The jam simmers down to the place where they might normally turn the corner into thier Feelin’ Groovy jam. Instead, Jerry bounces effortlessly around this warm loving space. He's plucking the stars within his reach and each one slowly explodes a shower of rainbows and flowers over our bodies. We are lost in a primal landscape that defies Dancin’ In The Streets completely. As is so often the case in these moments of timeless and focused attention, the band forces nothing and appears to be as hypnotized by the moment as we are. No one looks to change anything. It’s a priceless passage of Grateful Dead music.

Phil Lesh 1970Eventually things manage to find their way back to Dancin’ proper. Bobby's vocal crescendos at the end of the song are very well done. And afterward, you can't help but detect a sense of amazement as the crowd applauds the song. The audience notes that the Dancin' has ended, but there is something permanently different in the air now. The song is over, but there’s cosmic goo left all over everything.

After Easy Wind suffers a tape cut near its end (could there have been more to this first electric set?) we move into an acoustic set. The crowd is up to its antics again and Jerry tells them "Take it easy out there, you unruly freaks." This only seems to entertain them all the more. Jerry proceeds into Friend Of The Devil and people begin to figure out that they ought to calm down. Over the entire acoustic set we hear the word "Shhhh" more often than on any AUD I can think of. Early on people are begging others to "PLEASE SIT DOWN!" It's a good sonic document of what an East Coast crowd could be like in these early years.

The entire acoustic set is well played. Friend Of The Devil contains the extra verse that Jerry later dropped. Deep Elem is fantastic. It's only the second know time they played the tune since 1966. The first was just the night before. Black Peter is hypnotic. Wake Up Little Susie is downright excellent, and Pigpen's Katie Mae shows us that this guy needs nothing more than his voice and a guitar to work his magic.

Sadly, there's someone sitting next to the taper who feels obliged to add accompaniment to the band by drumming on the balcony rail which comes through on the mics. And, having no true sense of rhythm, this person really shouldn't be allowed to do so. This ruthless "tapping" is a bit bothersome, but not entirely detrimental to enjoying the music.

The last chunk of the show has some seriously uplifting moments of 1970 Electric Grateful Dead magic. Cosmic Charlie is a roaring set opener. The band is very loud again. Then the main chunk of the second electric set is as good if not better than it looks on paper: St. Stephen > Not Fade Away > St. Stephen Jam > China Cat Jam > Not Fade Away. The Stephen offers no real surprises, but you can't deny the sheer potency of this song. It really encapsulates a lot of what the Grateful Dead were in these early years. Moving into Not Fade Away may seem ho hum, but Not Fade Away was still in relative infancy at this point, and this was one of the first handfuls of times it was paired with St. Stephen at all. The "newness" of this combo must have really been exciting for the band because they make the most of it.

Jerry Garcia 1970The jamming in NFA is like a freight train at times. It thunders along with Jerry finding many different lines that inspire his repeating them time and time again. He forms circling whirlpools worming around like cyclones in turbulent water. Here and there he reaches out in warm waves of notes that juxtapose the intense energy of the band. Deep in the jam, they make it solidly back into St. Stephen. It is seamless and perfect, almost as if we never really left. Then it's gone as soon as it came and Garcia is attacking what is always known as Bobby's China Cat Sunflower riff—fantastic. There’s no real chance of the full song happening since they are playing in E. While China Cat started in E a little over two years earlier, they no longer play it in that key. Regardless, what we get is thoroughly enjoyable. Not Fade Way returns at full tilt, and its finale comes like sledge hammers crushing an anvil.

Midnight Hour > Lovelight is unlike anything else I can think of from this period. First, Midnight hour had been almost completely shelved by this time (check out your copy of Deadbase and see what I mean). The song delivery feels very "standard" through the first five minutes. But from the moment Pigpen hands over the reigns by saying "Go on, play a while," the song takes on rainbow misty breeze hues. Jerry is in that "He Was A Friend Of Mine" zone. He soars in slow motion over mountaintops at dawn. Everything he touches turns beautiful before our eyes. This goes on for a nice long time. Pig comes back to start rapping, but he can't quite turn this into a sexy strut. Jerry seems to have brought us somewhere more divine with his gentle waves.

The segue into Lovelight is just exactly perfect. The way these two songs match up is great. It makes you wonder why they only did this pairing one time (that we know of at least). Lovelight's grove is infectious. While it is by no means the complete song (we never even get a "Without a warning…" out of Pigpen), it serves to cap off the show with explosive balls of fire. It builds and builds until the set ends with a power chord crescendo lasting some 50 seconds, slamming into your head over and over. Whew!

On tape we hear the entire passage of cheering that brings the band back on stage for We Bid You Good Night—a very fine version that somehow closes off a very fine show.

03/21/70 Early Show AUD etree source info
03/21/70 Early Show AUD Download

03/21/70 Late Show AUD etree source info
03/21/70 Late Show AUD Download

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

1972 August 24 - Berkeley Community Theatre

Grateful Dead 1972

GRATEFUL DEAD
Thursday, August 24, 1972
Berkeley Community Theatre, Berkeley, CA
Soundboard Recording

“Good time music by good time people”
Bill Graham introduction, 8/24/72

Once again I find myself overwhelmed by the way the Grateful Dead sounded so completely at the top of their game in 1972. In a year that saw a more subtle evolution than its predecessor, there is no doubt that 1972 demonstrated an amazing metamorphosis bridging 1971 to 1973. When one considers ’71 against ’73 they stand nearly as distinct as day to night. And while it is clear that there were many miles between these two years, 1972 showcases an amazing consistency throughout. End to end it’s a constant roller coaster ride through both the Americana Rock and wild psychedelic adventurism that were both completely the Grateful Dead.

Grateful Dead Newsletter 1972Tucked into the summer of ’72 are the August shows. Historically speaking, August contains one of the most famously heralded shows of all time (08/27/72 Veneta, OR) and what was long one of the most completely missing dates in all collections (08/25/72 Berkeley, CA). Woven into that soap opera are a bunch of other shows that can sometimes bleed into each other. And while the 08/27 show is a classic (someday I’ll review it, I’m sure), when I consider you coming over to my house to explore August 1972, my hand is going to grab the show from 08/24/72 every time.

You don’t need to hang around Grateful Dead tapes very long before you realize very little convincing is needed when it comes to listening to a 1972 show. So, allow me to highlight just a few obviously key elements and then step over to the stereo to turn the volume up too loud for us to talk to each other and hit the play button.

Set 1: Promised Land, Sugaree, Jack Straw, China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider, Me & My Uncle, Bird Song, Beat It On Down The Line, Tennessee Jed, Playin’ In The Band, Casey Jones
Set 2: Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo, Mexicali Blues, Brown Eyed Women, Truckin, Dark Star > Morning Dew, Sugar Magnolia, Ramble On Rose, Greatest Story Ever Told, Sing Me Back Home, One More Saturday Night E: Uncle John’s Band


mandelbrot set fractalIn the ever flip-flopping of shows from Dark Star to Other One in these early-mid ‘70’s years, this August 24, 1972 show flops to Dark Star, and also manages to capture a Bird Song, China>Rider, Uncle John’s Band, and the obligatory flip-flop defying Playin’ In The Band. It makes for ideal pastures as far as I’m concerned. And in listening to the more exploratory expanses of this fine show I am continually brought to the state of mind where my eyes can no longer perceive the physical space around me. The vivid imagery which floods my vision while my eyes are closed tight suffuses everything continually. And in that vision where light burns around shadows and perspective swims in a sea of joy, I am repeatedly exposed to a musical journey which seems to travel through a landscape constructed of a Mandelbrot set fractal.

Whether it’s within the Playin’ jam, or the amazing Dark Star, or even the insanely tight weave of the final Uncle John’s Band segment, I am forever feeling things move through either the vast open empty spaces of the fractal pattern, or cascading wildly through the forever repeating and coiling tendrils hidden deep in the details. These extremes are synched to the beautiful dynamics that the band is utilizing – something not always ascribed to 1972. Here on 8/24 the Dead are all at once fully at ease and wickedly electrified at the same time – something that manages to describe their essence through this period very well. And yet this show provides ample breathing room which only heightens the entire musical experience.

Phil Lesh 1972So let this show play for you and enjoy every moment. In particular be mindful of the way this Playin’ works the extremes. Relish the amazing Dark Star as it catches the quintessential 1972 groove, then flies into complete oblivion, only to return to the groove before drifting into a near complete stillness where it’s Phil who ushers in the luscious Morning Dew which follows. And then stick around for the Uncle John’s Band. It’s a stand out fabulous version which is elevated beyond description as Phil rapid-fires notes through the final crescendo section – a jaw dropping finale to another fabulous show from 1972.

Now let’s hit the volume knob and get this started.

08/24/72 SBD etree source info
08/24/72 SBD Stream

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

1970 December 28 - El Monte, CA

Jerry Garcia 1970

GRATEFUL DEAD
Monday, December 28, 1970
Legion Stadium - El Monte, CA
Audience Recording


Music can change your mood, brighten your day, and transport you to far away lands. The Grateful Dead were good for all of these things, and sometimes a bit more. Sometimes the Dead’s music could even change the weather on you, causing the sun to burst through a cloudy day, or even change the season from winter to summer. Such is the case with 12/28/70. Firmly planted in what nearly anyone would call the middle of winter (okay, just seven days in on the calendar), this show ushers bright green grass, sunshine, and warm breezes into the coldest and darkest of days. It’s really something pervasive to what could be called the Dead’s 1971 sound – a folk and country tinged psychedelic rock that emanates a deep relaxed and joyful ease. And here at the doorsteps to 1971, we have a recording that brings this to our ears beautifully. Good time, summertime Grateful Dead.

12/28/70 was another tape which came to be a fixture for me as my appreciation of audience recordings grew over the years. As yet another recording by the same duo responsible for the infamous
08/06/71 tape, as well as the wonderful recording of 07/01/73, on December 28th, 1970 Craig Todd and Harv Kaslow managed to come away with a recording that stands right up there with the gems they would produce in years to come. With beautiful range and surprisingly impressive stereo separation, this tape defies the standard pigeonholing that many people attribute to old Grateful Dead audience tapes.

Phil Lesh 1970Musically, 1970 becomes a difficult year to stack shows against shows, mainly because the truly phenomenal nights claim an unfair advantage over other shows which are good in their own right, yet perhaps don’t exist on the same “truly phenomenal” plane. While 12/28/70 isn’t one of these shows that can be called “best ever,” recognizing it as a good 1970 show coupled with its being preserved in spectacular recording quality given the time period, offers a quality inroad to the world of great AUDs. It’s a quiet and unassuming date tucked into the tail end of 1970. Overall it sounds a bit more distinctly like 1971, aided by the set list featuring tunes which would come of age in that following year. All of this combines to make for a fine addition to anyone’s collection. As your ears come to acclimate to the frequencies and ambience of the recording you should easily find a spot on the floor with the crowd, relaxing and flowing with the evening’s proceedings; summer breezes flowing through you.

The show’s set list also delivers an interesting chronology across the Dead’s repertoire, inserting highlights throughout, rather than building to a single explosive climactic moment. In so doing, the entire show plays out with a very nice energy. And while the over all feel is relaxed, there is just enough intensity and edginess intermingled with more standard material to make for a fine end to end listening experience.

Set One: Cold Rain And Snow, Truckin', It Hurts Me Too, Me And My Uncle, Beat It On Down The Line, China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider, Cryptical Envelopment > Drums > Other One > Cryptical Envelopment > Sugar Magnolia, Casey Jones

Set Two: Smokestack Lightnin', Big Railroad Blues, Me And Bobby McGee, Deep Elem Blues, Cumberland Blues, Morning Dew, Good Lovin' > Drums > Good Lovin' > Uncle John's Band

The show offers up a wonderful string of tunes out of the gate, complete with the opening Cold Rain And Snow, a stand alone Truckin, and fine China>Rider which unfolds like a spiraling flower with infinite petals. China Cat Sunflower throbs, filling every beat possible, and Garcia’s solos ring out beautifully. The road opens up before us as they coast into the transition jam. Bobby solos nicely as the band shifts effortlessly around bends and over hills. When Jerry picks up the lead, and Pigpen the tambourine, they have locked into the epitome of everything sublime in 1970-71. I Know You Rider flows out from the stage, and you can feel the crowd locking in, soaking it up, and gelling into synch with the music. The recording quality here shines as brightly as ever, and we are placed in a spot from which we have no desire to leave. From here the show feels like it could never end. Some prolonged equipment troubles sort of squash this vibe until we emerge on the other side into Cryptical Envelopment. It’s early in the set still, yet the band is casting its full spell over us, picking up directly off of the energy which trailed out of I Know You Rider.

Jerry Garcia 1970This Other One suite doesn’t disappoint in the slightest. The great haunting storytelling ensues as Jerry spins Cryptical’s twisted tale, and the song reaches out with arms of unavoidable beckoning like dangerous craggy seashores luring sailors with songs of mermaids hidden in the wind. Drums follow, and then Other One itself. The deeply tribal rhythm resonates throughout as the music swirls in a sea of incomprehensible vines intertwined into an Escher-like landscape leaving no safe place to tread. There is darkness licking like flames all around as the band folds into and out of the beat, occasional returning to the driving pulse while often letting go into a soup of frothing confusion. With shifting syncopations the music resemble how the band’s jamming in 1973 could feel like it was just on the edge of tumbling head over heels down a mountain while running downhill. The song crackles into the final verse and then breaks like the sun over the horizon back into Cryptical Envelopment.

As is so often the case, the final Cryptical brings us to the voice within the inner sanctum of the Dead’s musical muse. As Jerry lightly solos over the slow churning gurgling riverflow of music, a serenity pervades as the song captures the most elemental being at the band’s core. This is remarkably simple music, wanting for nothing, pushing nowhere. And as Garcia sings out the last refrains of “You know he had to die,” the music goes on to fold in on itself, bending all perception into a center of pure musical satori, once again fusing us to nothing but perception of the moment.

We drop directly into Sugar Magnolia which has fully matured since it appear earlier in the summer. This is long before Sugar Mag evolved into the heavy rocking set two closing standard (a tune that I’m unashamed to say I skip more often than not). Here, the song is full of its original intent, and a good time is had by all. I particular enjoy hearing the guy near the taper after the song who comments, “Amazing what you can do with two guitars.”

Bill KreutzmannA lot like 03/18/71, this show seems to shine in some unsuspecting spaces. Tucked away in this set are thoroughly wonderful renditions of Big Railroad, Deep Elem, and Cumberland Blues. Deep Elem Blues and Cumberland stand back to back, and exude a pure Grateful Dead American rock-n-roll that is deeply intoxicating, in much the same way that I Know You Rider and Going Down The Road Feelin’ Bad was in this time period. The music is unforced and relaxed, hypnotically drawing the listener in. When Morning Dew follows Cumberland the edges are beautifully blurred into that Americana-Folklore-Psychedelia that stands as the figurehead for this band’s musical persona. As Jerry opens up into the final solo section there are diamond raindrops hovering all around, swirls of colored smoke crystallizing from glass into spider webbing, all eventually exploding into a cascade of star showers as the song climaxes. Out of the dust, Good Lovin’ appears and everyone shakes their bones.

Not necessarily a hall of fame version, this Good Lovin’ demonstrates some fine improvisational rockin’ and a nice little segment deep in the jam where Bob and Jerry fall back into the song’s thematic key while the rest of the band continues to churn in the more bluesy groove. For a brief time Jerry is cartwheeling his solo in a slightly more St. Stephen and Eleven fashion which overlays the rest of the music nicely.

Good Lovin’ spills directly into Uncle John’s Band which closes the show with more of that pure Grateful Dead warmth and inviting energy which, once again, brings us to a place from which we have no need to consider leaving. Time could stop here and we wouldn’t care why.

12/28/70 AUD etree source info
12/28/70 AUD Download

Thursday, April 30, 2009

1971 July 02 - Fillmore West

Jerry Garcia 1971
GRATEFUL DEAD
NEW RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
Friday, July 2, 1971
Fillmore West – San Francisco, CA
Soundboard (FM) Recording

There’s something wonderfully enjoyable about great 1971 Dead shows. The band was so comfortable by now that its entire concert experience could be equally appealing for its lovely folk-rock good times song delivery, as well as for the band’s ability to reach the psychedelic seas. Coming out of 1970 after releasing both Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty, two albums that completely reshaped the way everyone had to think about this band, the Dead’s persona had evolved a long way from being the poster child from 710 Ashbury and the Summer of Love.

Grateful Dead - March 1971The Dead rolled into their featured night during the closing run of Bill Graham’s Fillmore West as a well polished (as much as being the Grateful Dead would allow them to be polished) cosmic country rocking titan. Steeped deeply into the nearly two year period where they toured with the New Riders of the Purple Sage as their opening act (really more of an extension of the Grateful Dead family than another band, with Jerry Garcia playing pedal steel in the Riders), the Dead’s concerts from 1971 exude happiness more than anything else during this period. It’s an odd overarching accolade to bestow, especially while the band was probably more multidimensional in 1971 than most people think – pure folk-tinged timelessness, raw bluesy Pigpen-driven swagger, and the ever present psychedelic power. But through all of this, the band simply sounds content and comfortable. It was a good time to be the Grateful Dead.

07/02/71 offers a perfect slice of the Grateful Dead pie, or perhaps an entire pie, since we have the complete evening’s performance to enjoy from a collection of recordings made off of the FM-Broadcasts of the show. Having things complete, there is an uncompromising need to begin one’s enjoyment of 07/02/71 with the New Riders’ opening set. As much as the Dead were masters of their game by 1971, the Riders were completely hitting their stride here, and this date offers a fantastic example of how wonderful the New Riders of the Purple Sage were.

This was one of the first New Riders tapes I ever got in a trade, and it came as a gift, just something included with a number of other shows from a trading partner. I wore the tape out. The reference Bill Graham makes in his introduction to the Riders being one of the things that makes Marin County as sunny as it is seems to suffuse their set completely. Having personally collected pretty much every available note in circulation from this band, I can attest that the Rider’s set on 07/02/71 is spun from pure gold. Not only is Garcia completely on fire with his steel playing, but the band is just completely in synch from start to finish. John “Marmaduke” Dawson’s vocal drip like honey, and the band epitomizes their own special brand of psychedelic country rock. As you go from song to song, and hear the crowd going more and more bananas in appreciation, you quickly come to find how this band’s music was a critical feature of the Dead’s entire output over 1970 and 1971. The evening with the Grateful Dead starts here.

Jerry Garcia with New Riders Of The Purple Sage - March 1971The Riders cap their set off with an encore of The Band’s song, The Weight, and if you could take only one NRPS performance to a desert island, it may as well be this rendition (which, by the way, can be heard featured in the bonus material on the re-mastered release of their debut album). Garcia’s solo will teach you never to miss another opportunity to listen to the Riders again. As Dawson continues to deliver the verses after the solo, you find that you are cradled in a little meadow of golden streaming sunlight. Dust specs sparkle like tiny glass prisms. There’s no place else to be. And the Dead have not even taken the stage.

When the Dead do take the stage, sunshine explodes as they open up with Bertha, a song more at home here in its debut year than any other. Jerry has clearly drawn all the energy from the Rider’s set directly into his vocal delivery. And his solo absolutely sings over the equally charged energetic delivery from Bill Kreutzmann on drums. Perhaps it’s from being the opening track on the Dead’s live album, Skull & Roses from 1971, and that being one of the first GD records I bought as a youth, but to me Bertha embodies 1971 Grateful Dead beautifully. It’s like the bands calling card for this year. The joyfulness is unmistakable, and by the end of the song, when the instrument mix is completely dialed in, we can tell we are in for a wonderful sounding ride through a night with the Grateful Dead.

Me & Bobby McGee follows and the pervasive comfort and pleasure continues. We are less than ten minutes into this show, and we’re already wrapped into the Dead’s vibe completely. Also a song featured on the Dead’s ’71 live record, Garcia’s backing vocals have always struck me as so well thought out on this song. He’s not simply harmonizing. He’s threading his own melody line just under Weir’s.

Jerry Garcia - August 1971Following Bobby McGee, Pigpen steps up for Next Time You See Me (a song, by the way, that was mislabeled as “Lied & Cheated” on many an old Dead tape), and the Dead demonstrate that they still pack that throaty, bluesy strut and swagger that was such a primary force in their music early on. Pigpen blows fantastic harmonica, and the crowd can be heard exploding in appreciation of his talent. This is followed by a China > Rider which hammers everything home. Garcia’s guitar tone blazes into the air during the China Cat solos, and the segue and ensuing I Know You Rider find the band firmly settled into a dance with what is clearly, for them, one of their most cherished golden rings in 1971. All the sunshine energy and Americana-Folk-like groove that pervaded Bertha and Bobby McGee comes pouring out in the Dead’s improvisational expression. Here then, we lock in and find our hearts entwined with the music. This isn’t the deep soul rending psychedelic madness type of intoxication. Rather, it’s the equally intoxicating flip side of the same coin. Somehow, the Dead’s established ability to psychedelically pierce the heart allows them to guide the audience along into their own evolving heartfelt pleasure during I Know You Rider. We’re early in the show, and already the music has fully transformed the borders between everything around us. The joyfulness of it all has clearly soaked into everyone and everything.

The first set continues to deliver on this energy, including a wonderful Hard To Handle. This period of the year was a high watermark for Hard To Handles, containing freight train-like energy and power through the pounding solo section. This version is also worth noting for showcasing the amazing ability of the band to save itself after a mistimed vocal re-entry on the final verse. They right the ship so effortlessly it’s almost as if nothing went wrong. The set wraps up with a steamy and strutting Good Lovin’. Cascading out of the formal song into the rolling and swirling gutsy blues-tinged jam, it’s a wonderful ride into a sweet spot of early Dead jamming style that we would see completely disappear with the eventual loss of Pigpen. The music sweeps everything into a near tribal frenzy, and closes the set on a wonderful high.

Bob Weir 1971Set two opens with a rocking Sugar Magnolia, another song that was in prime form this year, and eventually we reach Cryptical Envelopment and Other One. It comes at us as if out of nowhere, a bit like 07/26/72’s Dark Star. There’s little hint that the band might veer down the psychedelic path at this point, and the somewhat unexpected turn adds to the enjoyment. While the mass of this show features that highly infectious “good old Grateful Dead” vibe – something altogether relaxing and smile producing – this Other One reveals the more sinister and snaky Grateful Dead that apparently has been waiting just out of view the whole time. This is a hold on to your seat ride that, even as it gets going, belies the true dangers lurking just around dark corners. We go in not sure that the bottom will ever really drop out on us, and what takes shape is more of a slow dissolve. The song just keeps pushing the envelope as it transitions liquidly from Other One theme to dripping feathery interplay, back to the theme again, and soon gets completely lost in a burning sea of stars, all before making it seamlessly into the first verse. Afterward, the music begins to bow and flex at odd angles as the intensity continues to build. Eventually it all swarms into madness, erupting in great plumes of molten color. Somehow the ground is found within the Other One theme breathing fire like a dragon. Fiercely, the song slams into the final verse, and eventually comes to rest beautifully in a mournful breeze without re-entering a Cryptical reprise at all.

The set closing segment begins with a Not Fade Away which storms in and shows off Garcia’s guitar work at its lyrical best. His solo arches high in the air, singing lovely lines while the rhythm section churns along. This provides a certain “pretty” layer not often found in Not Fade Away, and becomes a lovely bridge to an equally luscious Goin’ Down The Road Feelin’ Bad. 1971 was far and away the pinnacle year for Going Down The Road. The band had clearly found something of a sweet spot in this song, much like in that of I Know You Rider. The warm glow of tube amplification, Bill Kreutzmann’s impeccable ability to skim the beat along tiny wave crests, Jerry’s emotional story telling delivery of the lyrics – all of these things and more found a wonderful convergence in 1971. Without bringing the roof down, GDTRFB could nonetheless deliver a peak highlight to any show. Bookending it smoothly, Not Fade Away elevated this even more into a classic Grateful Dead pairing. 07/02/71’s version is fresh from the mold, delivering everything we could ever want. It’s that lovely marriage of Folk-Americana and country rocking rainbows that the Dead embodied so well in 1971.

Also not to be missed is the Johnny B Goode encore. Introduced by Jerry with, “Alright folks, here’s the one it’s all about,” this version does indeed bring the house down. The Dead surge with such power here that even this straight up rock-n-roll classic demonstrates that this band was cruising at the top of their game. Fantastic Summer ’71 Grateful Dead all around.

New Riders Of The Purple Sage:
Grateful Dead:

Saturday, March 14, 2009

1970 Study – Musical Soul Expander

Jerry Garcia 1970
I’ve gone on record saying this before, but it’s worth repeating: While 1973 is generally my personal favorite year of Grateful Dead music, 1970 might truly be the best year of them all.

The year stands out for me because it is one of convergence – the unanimous kings of pure psychedelic mastery merging with their own soul stirring progress into consummate songwriting which calls to mind a certain timeless Americana/Folklore campfire intimacy. Rooted in 1969, when they first started folding this acoustic element into shows, it reveals the Dead as an even more multifaceted jewel than anyone could have imagined over the previous four years. The Grateful Dead were riding a wave of pure creativity in 1970 which saw them artfully playing well worn strings while also inventing new instruments at the same time.

An evening with the Grateful Dead was now something altogether epic, spanning the relaxed intimacy of an opening acoustic set, followed by the amped up Psychedelic Country twang of a New Riders Of The Purple Sage set (complete with Jerry on pedal steel and Mickey on drums), capped by the Electric Dead at full force. “Mama, mama, many worlds I’ve come since I first left home.”

Grateful Dead 1970With this multidimensional musical energy at full throttle, 1970 also seems to best encapsulate something of the real roots of the subculture documentation of the band’s musical history. Great swaths of the Dead’s output this year are missing from the Vault completely, due in no small part to soundman Owsley “Bear” Stanley ending up in jail (it was he who was so instrumental in all the shows being recorded from the beginning), and the loose and unsecured manner in which the band’s soundboard tapes were protectively archived (master reels had a way of “walking out” of the vault). As the luck of timing would have it, by 1970 the growth of the Dead’s fan base, and audience tapers along with them, meant that even while large chunks of the year were either going absent from the band’s personal archive, or never even making it in, many of the missing holes actually were documented in the organic archiving of the intrepid tapers of that day – the grandfathers of the Dead bootleg audience tape phenomena.

It is no understatement to say that a lot of the audience tapes from 1970 are God awful wrenching on the ears. And sometimes these recordings with the worst sound quality are all we have as a clouded, scratched, and muddied lens into some of the greatest Dead music of all time (check out 04/24/70 Mammoth Gardens sometime to get this point completely – brutal on the ears, yet possessing a Dark Star and Eleven to rival all others).

Defying the odds stacked up by the band’s challenge to record and preserve their own output, combined with the field recording challenges of the era, there are still soundboard and audience tapes from 1970 which serve as shining jewels in the band’s deserved crown. With regard to the audience tapes in particular, they are often all there is on tape from some amazingly pivotal moments in the Dead’s concert history. These aural documents are plentiful enough to bring ample joy to those tape collectors out there who recognize the glory of 1970 Grateful Dead, and whose ears are seasoned enough to be unencumbered by what those perhaps less initiated might find as barriers to the music itself.

No doubt, fully appreciating even the best AUDs of 1970 requires the listener to have traveled a bit down the road of AUD tapes in general. I often mention that an AUD tape can require a bit of time for one’s ear to acclimate – sometime a few minutes, or a song or two. When it comes to 1970, this acclimation process can take a good deal longer, and is not always measured by listening to a single tape. I know for myself, after getting a number of 1970 AUDs early on in my trading experience, it wasn’t until I had gone down a longer road of building an appreciation for audience tapes in general, and came back to these ‘70 tapes, that I found my ears completely open to the music on these recordings.

This apparent rite of passage makes the joy within this music somehow more precious and special – the known futility of thinking we could hand over what we feel are actually good sounding tapes like 06/24/70, or 05/07/70 to a person never before exposed to audience tapes and believe they would be able to fully circumvent the auditory barriers which block total access to the magic within. They can’t. And thus, shows like this takes on an air of existing in some inner circle, or some secret room within the halls of the Grateful Dead tape collector’s mansion. Many people can’t find the room, because they haven’t passed through the outer chambers yet. But, the journey has its rewards, and is worth all the trials one’s ears might face in making it in.

While it had its own roots in 1969, 1970 ushered in the model of musical journeying that embodied the Grateful Dead forever onward. While there is no denying the pure primal pleasure found in the intense uninterrupted psychedelia of the years before, it seems that when the Dead started to spread their wings and explore the accessibility of acoustic roots, their hypnotic connection to the universal musical soul expanded even further.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

1970 November 6 - Capitol Theatre

Grateful Dead 1970

GRATEFUL DEAD
NEW RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
Friday, November 6, 1970
Capitol Theatre – Port Chester, NY
Audience Recording

11/06/70 is one of those “no soundboard” tapes that all Deadheads have always placed in the Holy Grail category. We pine for the master soundboard reel to come on the scene (if it even exists at all). Considering the miraculous soundboards that have appeared out of the past in recent years, anything is possible. But far beyond the issue of the missing board, this show ranks as one of the best Dead performances of all time.

11/06/70 is another of the infamous “usher tapes.” Ken Leigh worked at the Capitol Theater, and was able to set up to record at the balcony rail. Like 06/24/70 and 11/08/70, this tape is pretty sublime, all 1970 caveats considered. The room ambience is quickly absorbed into your ear’s psyche, and before long you are feeling very much perched on the lip of the balcony, taking everything in.

Jerry Garcia 1970From this date we have not only the entire show, but the soundcheck as well (a unique window into the pre-show Dead playing to an empty house in 1970). The acoustic set proper is steeped in that warm, relaxed, and inviting atmosphere so prevalent from this era. Here, by the end of 1970, the acoustic sets are somehow even more hypnotic than they were in the Spring. The audience is so receptive to the music, and it is clear that no one is in any hurry at all. Understandable, as this was the third time in 1970 that the band brought its circus to this venue. No one in the audience is worried by this point that their beloved psychedelic monster has been swapped out with some lazy, front porch sitting, good ol’ boys with acoustic guitars. Everyone is in it for the long, sweet ride.

Highlights from the acoustic set show up on nearly every song.

Don't Ease Me In, Deep Elem Blues, Dark Hollow, Friend Of The Devil, The Rub, Black Peter, El Paso, Brokedown Palace, Uncle John’s Band

For me, the slow rolling Black Peter is extremely satisfying. Garcia has us all sitting on his lap in rapt silence as he tells his tale. By the end of the set, with its lovely Uncle John’s Band closer, we are fully inducted into the relaxed personal space of the Dead’s musical universe.

From here, the air of intimacy, with its folksy, country vibe, is electrified by the New Riders Of The Purple Sage. The Riders music comes on, much like the undoubtedly electrified crowd, pulsing and throbbing under the twanging bounce of David Nelson’s finger picking, and Garcia’s siren-like hypnotic pedal steel playing; his notes sticking together like a liquid gossamer cotton candy of country-infused psychedelia. John “Marmaduke” Dawson’s vocal delivery on covers and his own compositions lends its own slightly twisted bent to everything as well.

New Riders of the Purple Sage - May 1970 photo by Michael ParrishThe Riders wore psychedelic music like a subtle cologne or bandana under a hat. You wouldn’t know it was there upon first glance, but after a few passing songs, you would eventually see that all these multi-hued undertones were there the whole time. Syncopated, snaking downbeats, interweaving guitar licks and harmonies, and a pedal steel that seems to smile with a strobe light rainbow playful sort of knowing, all remain veiled within the trappings of some good old country rock music. The Riders packed a deep psychedelia into the cracks and crevices of their music, allowing it to permeate everything, occasionally casting it out into full view, and always using it to reach miles into the listener’s heart and soul.

Their set list on this evening is masterful:

Workin' Man Blues, I Don't Know You, Whatcha Gonna Do, Glendale Train, Portland Woman, Fair Chance to Know, All I Ever Wanted, Truck Drivin' Man, Lodi, Me and Bobby McGee, Louisiana Lady, The Weight, Honky Tonk Woman

They deliver everything beautifully, and Jerry’s steel playing is gorgeous throughout. You can easily get lost in Portland Woman, All I Even Wanted, and The Weight. And the infectious Whatcha Gonna Do, Lodi, and Louisiana Lady are each stellar.

Then comes the electric Dead set. It’s as if some enormous octopus of boiling energy has invaded the theater. The band opens with Casey Jones, and the crowd comes instantly alive; the Dead strutting along with gusto.

Casey Jones, Me & My Uncle, King Bee, China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider, Truckin’, Candyman, Sugar Magnolia

Bob Weir - May 24 1970One of my favorite passages of this front portion of the electric set is the China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider. This song pairing rides the borderline between the Psychedelic beast and the Americana/Folklore energy beautifully. China Cat, with its carnival wheel turning spokes flashing colored lights and bubbles, twists and turns its way through the air. All of the instruments sound wonderful. Bobby’s guitar flashes, Phil’s bass rumbles, and Garcia is riding his white hot beam of thick jeweled tone, so typical of 1970. The interweaving patterns slowly work their way into more formal paths as they angle into I Know You Rider, and the music lifts itself on the back of Jerry’s solo into one joyous passage after another. We can feel the audience lock into the energy, and that unmistakable urge to smile washes over us as Jerry rides the beam again. By the end of Rider, the spell is fully cast. The lines between the crowd and audience are blurred. The entire family steps up and marches directly into Truckin’. And a little while later into the set, things just keep getting better.

The show closes out with a titanic portion of brilliant Grateful Dead music:

Good Lovin’ > Drums > The Main Ten > Drums > Good Lovin’, Alligator > Drums > NFA > GDTRFB > Mountain Jam > NFA > Caution > Lovelight

Good Lovin’ finds the band’s true leader, Pigpen, stepping into the spotlight. They quickly kick their way through the tight, infectious cover and head into a drum solo. The thunderous rhythms cool way down and things simmer into The Main Ten. The beautiful roots of Playin’ In The Band’s theme stretch back a ways before the actual song was ever introduced into the rotation. Called The Main Ten, based in no small part, I’m sure, on its ten beat measure, this wonderful little theme gets explored in 1970 from time to time, and here it works like a drug seeping into our bloodstream. It takes us down an unexpected path of blissful, haunting grace. While it never quite blossoms into a full on improvisational jam, the Dead work the theme as a potter might sculpt clay on a wheel. Gentle caresses embrace the theme, slowly forming it into a more and more structured thing of beauty. It is short lived here on 11/06/70, but hypnotic all the same. As mysteriously as it appeared, it is gone, back into Drums on the way back to Good Lovin’. The end portion of Good Lovin’ is full of that sweaty, sultry confidence that the Dead wore so well in 1970. The jam crackles along as Garcia reaches for the sun and explodes in a shower of electricity and raw power.

Pigpen - May 24, 1970Alligator sets the band down the long home stretch of this show. It flares with a swampy, dark, voodoo heat. The jam following the formal song section calls to hidden shadowed magic. It winds its way down long liquid rivers which eventually form into beautiful and gentle melodies, the entire electric beast showing that it can hold a delicate flower without completely consuming it in fire. But the fire is there, nonetheless, and that smoky, sultry voodoo dance slips directly into Not Fade Away, with the band igniting again.

Not Fade Away > Goin’ Down The Road Feelin’ Bad > Not Fade Away is still a very new thing for the Dead at this stage of 1970. But just as we could feel the absolute perfection of the pairing back on 10/23/70, here it is even more fully locked into an archetypical example of the Grateful Dead’s own personal sound. Goin’ Down The Road keys right back into that Americana/Folklore we found earlier in I Know You Rider. And it is this wonderful juxtaposition of elements – folk against voodoo fire – that reflect the entire evening’s performance, and in fact, the entire nature of the band by the end of 1970. The multi-facetted jewel is ever turning in on itself. When Goin’ Down The Road slides into a Mountain Jam (built off of Donovan’s “There Is A Mountain”), the music takes on a certain level of spiritual beauty as it flows forward. It careens into a near shower of complete Feedback, as if the band knows that Caution is coming, but then remembers that they planned to wrap back into Not Fade Away. It’s a wonderful little passage. NFA returns, finishes up, and then the pure heart of the Grateful Dead steps out of the mist and tears down all barriers between the music and the souls in attendance.

Light ShowCaution rises and demonstrates what can be considered one of the deepest levels of this band’s musical core. Forever, the Dead were using psychedelia pinned to bluegrass as one of their most elemental launching pads into their own true nature – a place where their guiding muse could take over and freely express itself. It is this thematic undercurrent, and another which was born in Dark Star, that display the ultimate power that this band’s music had over itself, and the fans in attendance. This is yet again a pure Grateful Dead church service; though this ceremony is one of wild, primitive power. For the rest of the show there is an endless tug of war between music and the molten hot, liquid chaos of Feedback singing the song of galaxies being born out of exploding stars. Spiraling fractals come and go while the music plays down to its own base building blocks with Pigpen playing wicked harmonica and the drummers shuffling along. Primal Dead at its finest.

When Pigpen finally announces that all you need is “just a touch,” the world folds in on itself, whipping us into unfathomable wormholes, the universe birthing chaos and completely consuming the music altogether. We are spit out on the other side into an even faster dance between structure and madness until knowing one from the other is hopeless. The battle continues for what feels like centuries, with Garcia’s personal being growing to fill every open space of air in the hall. Down to a whisper, Phil flips the switch over to Lovelight, and for the next 17 odd minutes the entire evening peaks continually while the wheel continues to turn, blurring form and chaos into one.

Like a freight train, this Lovelight powers down the track. Containing Pigpen’s famous “Bear Rap” and wonderful peaks and valleys throughout, the band seems to endlessly catch themselves in whirlpools of musical riffs turning in tight circles, stitching intricate colors together into a tapestry. With a final flourish of searing flame and showering starlight it all finally ends. Utterly spent, it is hard not to come away unchanged from this quintessential Grateful Dead show from 1970.

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