Deadology April 12

            On April 12, 1960, Jerry Garcia joined the United States Army. Jerry was a drifting dreamer, but never in his wildest thoughts could he have imagined that ten years later, on the same date, he would be the leader of a rock and roll band that was the headline act at one of the premier music venues in the Bay Area, and that legendary trumpeter and jazz innovator Miles Davis would be the opening act for his band. On 4-12-70, Mile Davis opened for the Grateful Dead in the Fillmore West, a few weeks after releasing his seminal double album, Bitches Brew. At the same time, the Grateful Dead were performing songs from their yet to be released albums, Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty.

            Although the groundbreaking jazz of In a Silent Way and Bitches Brew had been influenced in part by James Brown and Sly & the Family Stone, Miles found himself in unfamiliar surroundings as he played for stoned white kids in the Fillmore West. Miles was an intimidating person to strike up a conversation with, and Jerry was the only member of the Dead who had the nerve to rap with him. Reflecting on this conversation in his autobiography, Miles, Davis said, “It was through Bill (Graham) that I met the Grateful Dead. Jerry Garcia, their guitar player, and I hit it off great, talking about music—what they liked and what I liked—and I think we all learned something. Jerry Garcia loved jazz, and I found out that he loved my music and had been listening to it for a long time.” Jerry’s charisma seemed to enchant everybody.

            Miles opened for the Grateful Dead in the Fillmore West on four nights from April 9 through April 12. Joining him on stage were Chick Corea (keyboards), Dave Holland (bass), Steve Grossman (sax), Jack DeJohnette (drums), and Airto Moreira (percussions). The performance on April 10 was recorded and released as a double album, Black Beauty. It’s a scintillating blitzkrieg of fusion. The Dead watched in dumbfounded amazement as Miles led his band fearlessly into uncharted waters at an improbable tempo. And then in an instant, the band delicately dropped into the sentimental ballad, “I Fall in Love Too Easily.” Garcia was especially impressed with the way Miles manipulated silence. The Grateful Dead absorbed various influences better than any band, and I hear the Miles influence in many of their “Dark Stars” from ’72–’74.

            Deadheads experienced in listening to long improvisational pieces embraced Miles’s music, and on 4-12-70, they experienced some magic from their heroes. The show kicks into rarified air in set two following four raw electric performances of songs that had been appearing in acoustic sets: “Candyman” “Deep Elem Blues, “Cumberland Blues,” and “Dire Wolf.” This pleasing run gives no hint of the brilliance waiting to be born in the next number, “Dancin’ in the Street.”

            The Fillmore West is hopping as the Dead push forth a funky groove with catchy group harmonizing. The “Dancin’” jam takes off briskly, and Garcia steams towards an early peak. Phil’s bubbling bass redirects the flow of the jam against the continuity of Pigpen’s organ, which is turned up louder than usual. The crisp tempo never wanes as Lesh and Garcia take turns rebuilding and deconstructing. Garcia’s guitar sears as the band races along cohesively. At times, the jam sounds as if its veering back and forth from “Dancin’” to “Hard to Handle.” Just as it seems they’ve milked this for all it’s worth, Phil and Bobby bounce into a “Feeling Groovy” jam, thereby luring Garcia into one more rampage. The 4-12-70 “Dancin’” was properly identified as special, and immortalized on the 1997 CD release Fallout from the Phil Zone.

            A few tunes down the line, the Dead cover “It’s a Man’s World.” This James Brown classic, which debuted three nights earlier, was played all four nights during this Fillmore West run and played a total of eleven times before being retired later in the year. The 4-12-70 “Man’s World” is more ambitious than great. Pig does a wonderful job channeling his inner James Brown, but there’s nothing like the real thing. Garcia spices this up with funky riffs and leads in response to Pig’s singing. It was a worthwhile venture, yet “Man’s World” doesn’t land a permanent rotation spot. And neither did “Viola Lee Blues,” the final jam of the night. “Viola” begins with a leisurely pace and spins madly out of control at the end. Pig’s organ cushions the frenetic sting of Garcia’s guitar. It’s not an elite version, but the screeching climax is noteworthy.

            Looking at the track listing and song times from the Dead’s 4-12-69 show in the Student Union Ballroom at Utah University, I surmised it might be an off night for the band. “Morning Dew” was less than ten minutes, and “Lovelight” was only fourteen and a half minutes. I’ll never underestimate an April 1969 show again. “Morning Dew” is confident without any wasted time, and the jams smoke. The show progresses nicely with “Good Morning Little Schoolgirl” and “Doin’ That Rag,” and then Jerry mesmerizes the Student Union with “He Was a Friend of Mine.” “Cryptical Envelopments” follows, and if the reprise jam is any indication, “The Other One” must have been unbelievable. Sadly, the only known soundboard recording is missing “The Other One” in its entirety.

            It’s impossible to rank ’69 “Dark Stars” unless you make that your sole purpose in life for a year, but after a few listens, this has become a favorite of mine. For twenty minutes, Garcia balances creativity and tenacity. The pulsing electricity burns through St. Stephen > Eleven. The latter tune is unbelievable as the Dead deal a psychedelic blow to the Mormon ballroom. “Turn on Your Lovelight” doesn’t need to be twenty-five minutes to be effective, as this sublime 4-12-69 version proves. This has all the thrills you’d expect from a ’69 show without excess meandering.

            The Grateful Dead experience must have resonated with the campus crowd in Utah on 4-12-69. Universities of “higher learning” would always prove fertile grounds for Deadhead recruitment through the years. Fourteen years after their Student Union Ballroom gig, Captain Garcia led an army of Deadheads into the Broome County Arena, in the college town of Binghamton, New York, on April 12, 1983. At the time, I was in Garcia’s army and a part-time college student at Rockland Community College. That morning, I headed up to the State University of Albany to pick up some good friends who were rabid Deadheads. We didn’t have tickets for the show, and my anxious amigos suggested that I increase my driving speed. Fifteen minutes away from Binghamton, a state trooper pulled me over because my maroon Chevy Caprice Classic was clocked on radar at 95 mph. I was driving high on cocaine and weed, and we had every illegal drug known to man in the car, but somehow, I remained cool and collected, and the cop was content to give me a ticket for excessive speeding (no pun intended). Nothing could deter our rendezvous with the Dead.

            It was an unusually tight ticket scene. I managed to score one for forty dollars, the most I ever paid to see the Grateful Dead. The crowd energy was insane. The band played tremendous shows in the Broome County Arena on 11-6-77 and 5-9-79, and the Dead’s performance at Binghamton’s Harpur College on 5-2-70 is iconic. The first set of 4-12-83 kicks off with an Alabama Getaway > Greatest Story, and the remainder of the set is loaded with desirable songs. The finest performances came mid-set as Jerry croons a sweet “Peggy O,” and “Cassidy” unwinds with an intense pressure cooker jam. A moaning blues solo offsets Jerry’s weakening voice during “Loser.” The effort is there during a lengthy “Let it Grow,” but the band synergy is absent—lots of noodling, but the jam never clicks. In the audience, I was overwhelmed by the set.

            Help on the Way > Slipknot! > Franklin’s Tower was played for the first time in six years on 3-25-83 in Compton Terrace Amphitheatre, Tempe, Arizona. I saw the sanctified trio for the first time in Hampton, Virginia, the first night of the East Coast tour on 4-9-83. In Binghamton, the Dead thrilled the faithful with Help > Slip > Frank again, and this is a stronger version than the one from Hampton. It took the band a little while to get cooking in 1983, but as the tours progressed, Garcia had one of his premier years as a guitarist, despite his addiction to Persian, and his health problems, which included noticeable weight gain with each tour.

            Everybody was overjoyed on 4-12-83 as “Franklin’s” was followed by Lost Sailor > Saint. The music came to a halt, and after a little deliberation, “Terrapin Station” became the next destination. Overwhelming in the moment, the second set developments continued the halo effect of the show. It was a dreamlike experience, except the tape didn’t hold up like 4-6-82 Philly Spectrum. As much effort as the band and audience put in on this night, the X factor was slightly out of reach.

            After Drums, there’s a standard Other One > Wharf Rat > Not Fade Away with a thrilling twist at the end. The drummers kept the beat alive as the crowd continued to chant, “You know our love will not fade away.” It caught me by surprise, and I believe this is the second time the band and crowd ended the show with this tribal chant that would become a ritual that I would despise by the time this tour was over. This became a too predictable and easy way for the Dead to end a show. But in that crowd, and on that night, it was absurdly exciting, especially when they reprised the chant upon their return to the stage. I had no idea what was happening. I thought they might be coming back for a mini set.

            The “NFA” reprise nimbly segued into “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue.” When Jerry sang, “The highway is for gamblers you better use your sense,” it reminded me of my brush with the law on Interstate 88 West before the show. This “Baby Blue” has poignant vocals and a biting guitar solo. With deep emotion, Garcia seemed to be addressing the audience when he crooned, “Forget about the Dead you left they will not follow you!” Whenever I’m in the mood to hear a great “Baby Blue,” I go back to this tape. Teasing the audience one more time, the drummers lead the audience into a final NFA chant after “Baby Blue.”

            Five years prior to the Binghamton show, the Dead invaded the campus of Duke University for a gig on 4-12-78. It’s become a popular show thanks to the black-and-white video that can be accessed on YouTube. There’s a content buzz in the air as the evening commences with “Jack Straw.” Donna sways softly between Weir and Garcia. Bobby looks like a student teacher at Duke, and Jerry’s presence is that of a gray-haired, middle-aged guitar guru. He looks older than his age at the time, thirty-five, but he appears reasonably healthy. After a battle with laryngitis earlier in the year, his voice is recovering nicely, and the band is heating up on their Southeast tour. “Loser” is the screaming highlight of an otherwise unremarkable first set. Garcia slices, dices, and shreds this solo that is met with a rapturous roar from Deadheads and the student body.

            Bertha > Good Lovin’ kicks off set two. Energy ripples through a smiling, head-bopping Garcia. “Eyes of the World” is the pre-drums highlight. The band delivers a relaxed intro that swirls into an exciting jam before Jerry sings the first verse. Solo one pops and takes off with Garcia working his repetitious riff magic. Jam two starts off leisurely and precedes into a skimming stones chord sequence, and then Jerry and the Boys bring the heat. It’s an enjoyable version, but not as meaty or ambitious as most ’77 “Eyes.” This is a must-see Drums because Garcia and members of the crew play percussion alongside Billy and Mickey. A standout “Wharf Rat” is the post Drums delight.

            The encore of 4-12-78 Duke is “U.S. Blues.” Usually this isn’t worthy of mentioning, but as those of you who have seen the video know, Garcia goes wild. Jerry hops and bops to the beat and starts to shout/sing the lyrics until he settles into a pattern of alternating soft and loud delivery as the band follows his lead and alters the volume of the music. Continually shrugging his shoulders, Garcia looks like he’s wrestling his guitar. After Jerry sings, “Wave that flag, wave it wide and high,” he peels backward and delivers a Pete Townsend windmill before striking his guitar. And the final “my oh my, oh my, my, my” is rendered over-emphatically as the leader of the band raises his arm and punches the smoky air in Cameron Indoor Stadium. Grateful Deadheads shower the band with love. Between 1971 and 1982, the Dead played Duke five times, as they continued to build and secure their fanbase throughout the land. 

For more on this date in GD history and other essential dates of GD History, check out Deadology. 

Deadology: April 8

As compelling and innovative as Grateful Dead shows were, the routine could become predictable, for both the band and hardcore fans, although songs were rarely repeated at consecutive concerts. Certain tunes fit in certain slots, and if you followed the Dead for a few years, the process could seem mechanical at times. I imagine the band may have had an informal discussion on this topic before they took the Philadelphia Spectrum stage for the last show of the 1985 East Coast spring tour on April 8. Between the audacious song selection and the juiced pacing of the performances, 4-8-85 unfolded like a surreal dream.

            The festivities commenced with “Midnight Hour.” It was the first time the Dead had opened with Wilson Pickett’s classic since 1969. I was caught up in the overwhelming excitement that night, as was soundman Dan Healy, who had carte blanche to play with the vocals as he pleased. The turned-up echo and reverb gave Garcia’s froggy voice a cartoonish texture as he sang counterpoint to Weir’s shrieks. The crowd went bonkers as “Midnight Hour” transitioned into “Walkin’ the Dog.” Aided by reverb, Garcia handled the first two verses, and Weir took the last one after a spirited solo from Jerry. This was the fourth of six Dead versions of “Walkin’ the Dog,” a signature hit for Rufus Thomas that was debuted by the Dead in 1970.

            The show took on the feel of a Pigpen tribute as Jerry sang “Big Boss Man,” the fifth “Boss Man” since Pig’s passing. This uncanny three-tune opening was a present to their flock of fanatical followers. The gesture was enormous, and Healy and The Boys were having a blast. In a subtle manner they were whetting our appetites for the summer tour…Get your tickets now, folks! The set settled back into a semblance of normalcy with a Me and My Uncle > Cumberland Blues combo. “Cumberland” rocketed by like a shooting star. Although “Supplication” jams usually disappointed me because they no longer played “Lazy Lightning,” the “Supplication” jam on 4-8-85 smoked into a set-ending “Might As Well.” Never had such a good time in my life before / I’d like to have it one time more / One good ride from start to end / I’d like to take that ride again / Again.

            “Revolution” to start the second shocked the crowd again. The Dead played this Beatles anthem eleven times, and 4-8-85 was the first time it opened set two. “Revolution” made nine appearances in the encore slot. Healy’s effects continued to aid Jerry’s creaking/croaking voice. The guitar solo is crisp, and Weir chimes: “Shooby doo wha!” a few times during the final chorus. There’s a wonderful handoff to one the Dead’s up and coming tunes, “Hell in a Bucket.” Pure fire rains from Garcia’s guitar and Weir’s vocals—a thunderous performance in the thick of a high-risk show. “Touch of Grey” follows, and the messaging of the first three songs is oddly congruent. You say you want a revolution…but you know it’s going to be alright; Were going to hell in a bucket, but at least I’m enjoying the ride; A touch of grey kind of suits you anyway…We will get by, we will survive.

            Based on the pace of “Eyes of the World,” it sounds like the musicians slipped away one by one during “Estimated Prophet” to hit from a mound of performance-enhancing white powder. The 4-8-85 “Eyes” has more zip than most of the quick-paced “Eyes” that were the norm in the ’80s. Garcia’s voice is shot, and the song doesn’t have much aesthetic value until they romp into the second solo and Jerry transforms into the Energizer Bunny. Garcia’s speeding leads have a seductive ring to them even if they are repetitive. There’s just enough nuance in there to keep it interesting, and it soon becomes a faceoff. Who will blink first, the band or Garcia? The speed and repetition reach an improbable pace as Garcia pinches every conceivable high register note from his Tiger. After several scorching minutes, the bottom drops out of the rhythm. But it ain’t over until the Bearded One sings, and he keeps on pecking and poking until he strikes a beautiful chord dramatically, and his mates are off and running again. There’s a heroic quality to Garcia’s playing on this solo—superb technique combined with heart and will. Yet, Jerry’s frail voice makes this a bittersweet “Eyes.”

            On the other side of Drums, the band’s frenetic playing doesn’t enhance “Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Band.” Surprisingly, they segue into “Stella Blue.” The gesture and sentiment of the touching tune hit home if you were there. However, Jerry’s voice renders this forgettable if you’re listening on tape.

            Around and Around > Turn On Your Lovelight closes the show. On most nights I loathed seeing that combo. “Around and Around” had become a complete cookie-cutter segue primarily used as an intro for “Good Lovin’” or “Lovelight.” Pigpen’s “Lovelights” were enormous. When Weir brought back “Lovelight,” there were several hot versions, but eventually the rest of the band seemed to be going through the motions as Weir had his showcase rave. But here’s a few Weir versions guaranteed to satisfy: 10-16-81 (Amsterdam), 7-7-84 (Alpine Valley), 10-20-84 (Syracuse), 6-21-89 (Shoreline Amphitheatre), and of course, 4-8-85 (Philly).

            As they transition into “Lovelight,” there’s an explosion of energy. The zesty tempo couldn’t be refused. The infectious groove swallowed the Spectrum and put everybody in motion. Garcia sparkles early and often as the band exercises supernatural control over the tempo. Weir leads the band as they weave through a pair of high-octane jams. There’s a sudden de-escalation of tempo as Weir steps to the mic for his moment of glory. His controlled falsetto singing builds a bridge for the band to stage a climactic finale. Weirs shrieks: “Shine on me!” one last time and Garcia hits the sweetest “Lovelight” licks as his mates stick a dramatic fanfare conclusion. A sustained euphoric roar fills The Spectrum as the greatest band in the land pulls off another distinctive musical extravaganza.

            Thirteen years earlier, the crowd in London’s Webley Empire Pool on 4-8-72 was tame compared to the wildness in Philadelphia. What London Deadheads witnessed was beyond anything they could have imagined, and the best parts of this show may have been beyond any audience’s ability to comprehend and appreciate at that moment in history. I’d like to know what members of the Grateful Dead were eating, drinking, smoking, ingesting, reading, and listening to between their last show in the Manhattan Center on 3-25-72, and 4-8-72, the second night of their European rendezvous. The Dead’s sound continued to evolve throughout their first nine years, but what happened in Europe ’72 from the time they left New York constitutes a quantum leap in artistry. Possibly, the excitement of bringing their innovative music to Europe, a land where so many jazz and blues artists were more appreciated than back in America, had the band feeling like they were on a musical crusade. With Keith on piano, Billy solo on drums, and Pigpen on board for his final extended tour, this was the ideal lineup. The Grateful Dead were on the verge of creating some of the most sophisticated and mind-blowing music the world would ever hear. And it all went down without much hype.

            The “Bertha” opener on 4-8-72 has more swagger than usual. “Black Throated Wind’ the Weir/Barlow tune that debuted a month earlier, was delivered confidently in the fifth spot, and two songs later, the band storms through a definitive “Cumberland Blues.” This is the alluring lead-off track on the triple album Europe ‘72. You can hear the collective brilliance of the Grateful Dead, and the virtuosity of the musicians individually. The Dead had a plethora of new originals at their disposal, and most of these tunes crystalized magnificently during their European adventure.

            There’s an enchanting flow to the 4-8-72 “Brown-Eyed Women,” and “Tennessee Jed” pops—Keith’s piano runs are superb. A bull rush of sound clears a path for Garcia during the eleventh song of the set, “Playin’ in the Band.” It’s the first long, relentless jam of the night, in a song that’s incrementally becoming longer and more intense each time it’s performed. Rhythm and blues burn with psychedelic power during “Good Lovin’.” “Looks Like Rain,” the other new Weir/Barlow tune, follows. “Black Throated Wind” is the stronger of the two tunes at this point, but “Looks Like Rain” was the survivor, going on to be one of the most played Dead tunes. “Casey Jones” drives this loaded set to its final stop.

            “Truckin’” open set two. Manic energy flows as the band operates with breathtaking confidence. I’ve concluded that this performance, and the 4-8-72 encore “One More Saturday Night,” were too hot to be released on Europe ’72. The Dead pound out authoritative renditions of “Big Railroad Blues” and “It Hurts Me Too” prior to delivering a segment of music that’s one of their definitive masterpieces.

            Some folks swear by ’69 “Dark Stars,” but I worship these ’72 “Dark Stars.” They exist on a higher realm of musical consciousness, and the majestic sweep of “Dark Star” peaked through 1974. Jerry, Phil, and Billy pounce on the opening of the first European “Dark Star” in Wembley Empire Pool. The music’s obscene, and it emerges like a heavenly rhapsody—possessed jamming with a séance-like vibe. It sounds as if they’re channeling the ancient footsteps and spirits of Europe. The band has more flexibility with the addition of Keith and the subtraction of Mickey, T. C., and the limited role of Pigpen. The clutter is gone, opening possibilities. Sometimes it’s what you don’t play that helps a jam take off, and Garcia and mates steer this through a cosmic black hole and turn through the pages of European history: Plato, Marx, Napoleon, and Hitler; it’s all there. The mood is mysterious and dark, and the music’s packed with wisdom. The Dead’s previous “Dark Star” was two weeks earlier in the Manhattan Center. The London “Dark Star” is in another dimension of existence.

            The music radiates for eleven minutes until Garcia sings, “Dark star crashes, pouring its light into ashes.” London’s casually ripped out of their comfort zone. The band continues their individual forays into the unknown, yet there’s an invisible force pulling everything together. There’s a seductive flow to this unconducted symphony. Maybe the band needed to leave America to get out of their comfort zone and step their artistry to its highest possible ground. Jerry’s a beast towards the end of this version as the band suggests “Sugar Magnolia.” Suddenly, they are in segue paradise as they erase the borders between “Dark Star” and “Sugar Magnolia.” The negotiation between the two Dead anthems is enthralling. All the uplifting powers of spontaneous improvisation shine brightly. This transition is three of the greatest minutes of music that I’ve ever heard.

            “Sugar Magnolia” is the perfect landing tune from a deep “Dark Star” voyage—Southern love and sunshine daydream—a blissful rocker. Mind left body, and now body defies gravity as the audience bounces and shakes to the groove. The Dead rock this hard, yet it seems like child’s play after the sophistication of “Dark Star.” “Sugar Mag” dazzles with a more than adequate jam, and the Sunshine Daydream coda rams into “Caution (Do Not Stop on the Tracks).” “Sugar Mag” is the perfect springboard for “Caution.” The Wembley “Caution” travels like a speeding bullet for seventeen minutes. There are many insane “Cautions” from ’68 and ’69, but there’s a smooth trajectory to this version that’s not as grungy as past performances, but it still has the stuff that will bust your brains out. The symmetry and magnificence of this first Dark Star > Sugar Mag > Caution in the Wembley Empire Pool is remarkable.

            “One More Saturday Night” is the encore. On the surface this may not seem like a thrilling development, but on this evening, it’s insanely satisfying. Feeling triumphant after an outrageous set of music, Weir and the band rock this little ditty as if their legacy depends upon this one performance. Bobby’s howling and saliva’s flying. Leading to the final singalong, he advises the band: “Easy now…Wail away!” Keith and Billy heed his advice and hammer the groove. “One More Saturday Night” can’t rage any harder. There are few four-song conclusions that dare to compare to what the Dead pulled off in London on 4-8-72.

            The year before, The Boys were in Boston Music Hall on 4-8-71. Set two took flight with a two-verse “Dark Star” that was completed in fifteen minutes. Don’t let the brevity fool you, because Garcia’s focused guitar playing sparkles all the way into “St. Stephen” which segues into NFA > GDTRFB > NFA. This is an enjoyable segment, hotter than other shows from this period, but not on the level of what they were doing later in the year when Keith joined the band. A tender version of Merle Haggard’s “Sing Me Back Home” followed the powerful opening sequence. The Dead debuted “Sing Me Back Home” three nights earlier, and Jerry’s melancholy singing captured the spirit of the lyrics.

            In the opening set, the band played Smokey Robinson’s “I Second That Emotion” for the first time. It’s a pleasant offering, but it doesn’t compare to the awesome versions from the Jerry Garcia Band through the years. With Merl Saunders and Melvin Seals on keyboards, Jerry better explored the Motown groove. The Boston Music Hall tape is a great listen, and a solid representation of the band as they transitioned to a more song-orientated format. 

For more on April 8, and the other essential dates of GD History, check out Deadology