Excerpt from Deadology
In his memoir Searching for the Sound, Phil Lesh writes, “In the first week of
September ’79, we played our first gigs at what would become my personal
favorite among all indoor venues in the United States, Madison Square Garden in
New York City. Playing in that building as it bounces up and down from the
sheer stomping exuberance of the audience is a sensation that must be
experienced to be believed.” Never had MSG pandemonium been more palpable than
it was when the Grateful Dead created a state of euphoria in that beloved
building on Friday night, September 18, 1987. I was there.
Grateful Dead mania was running wild as The
Boys started their five-night run at Madison Square Garden on September 15,
1987. On that evening, “Touch of Grey” occupied the tenth spot on the Billboard
Hot 100 chart and would peak at number nine. The band had their first hit
single as they joined the likes of Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson,
Whitesnake, Huey Lewis, and Bananarama in the elite hit-makers club of
September ’87.
Following their first
two shows at Madison Square Garden, Garcia and Weir paid a visit to NBC Studios
to appear on Late Night with David
Letterman. Middleweight Champion Sugar Ray Leonard, who had just come out
of retirement to upset Marvelous Marvin Hagler, was the other guest. It made
for a nice pairing—Sugar Ray and Jerry, the comeback icons. With his sharp wit
and jovial demeanor, Garcia looked reasonably healthy a year after his
near-fatal coma. But if you compare this appearance to his last appearance on
Letterman’s show in April 1982, Jerry looked like he aged twenty years in just
five. Weir looked as if he hadn’t aged a day since 1982.
Garcia and Weir joined Letterman’s band, led
by keyboardist Paul Schaffer, and played “When I Paint My Masterpiece.” I’ve
always been baffled as to why Weir sang lead vocals on “Masterpiece” with the
Dead, since Garcia crooned it so poignantly with the JGB. After some relaxed
and witty conversation with the host, Weir turned a national TV audience on to
an old parlor trick. Weir, Letterman, Schaffer, and Biff Henderson gathered
around Garcia and gave TV land the illusion that they were levitating Garcia
out of his chair—a bit of silly magic. What happened the following night in
Madison Square Garden was truly magical.
Emotions soared during the first set as New
York Deadheads greeted the group’s every musical whim with vociferous
appreciation. Jerry’s singing was a bit shaky during “Sugaree,” but he rolled
out an impressive third solo, one of the better ones of the year. Following a
decent performance of “Birdsong,” Weir announced that the band would take a
short break after only six songs. Usually an abrupt set termination like this
would disappoint me. Somehow, I sensed with certainty that something special
would happen in set two. Positive energy lingered in the air thick and heavy.
It was inescapable.
Deadheads and the Garden bounce as one as
“Shakedown Street” opens set two. After the between-verse solo, Jerry
mistakenly sings the chorus. The mojo of the show starts to kick in during an
above-average jam, and the Garden explodes in response. “Women Are Smarter”
energizes and delights the crowd. During the final round robin sing-along, Weir
cuts loose with a falsetto chorus that borders on silly. The band finishes off
the final chorus with authority and Weir shouts, “That’s right!” A thunderous
roar becomes deafening as Jerry strums the opening chords of “Terrapin
Station.” The excitement is ridiculous!
The golden opening of “Terrapin” is wondrous
on the heels of the “Women Are Smarter” hysteria. The hypnotic rhythm, tempo,
and command of the band frames the wisdom coming from the angelic voice of the
gray-haired and bearded guitar guru. Jerry finally has found a way to channel
the abundance of energy into his precise guitar solos, linking the narrative.
There’s a vibe of heavenly ascension as Garcia calls upon his muse:
“Inspiration, move me brightly.” New York City is louder and louder as the
journey advances towards the royal refrain of “Terrapin.” Tight drumming opens
the way for passionate phrasing from Jerry and Brent. After one intoxicating
Brent run, Phil unloads a blast that allows Jerry to respond with the
definitive musical line of the refrain. It’s hard to rate “Terrapins,” but the
in-the-moment ecstasy of this MSG version comes through on tape, making it an
essential “Terrapin.”
After Drums, a quick dash through “Goin’ Down
the Road Feelin’ Bad” elevated the excitement in the crowd. Nothing could
dampen the spirit of the faithful and their desire to electrify Jerry. The big
breakthrough came as Weir served up the legendary “All Along the Watchtower”
riff. Garcia digs in with a lead that had us salivating and howling—game on.
This was my first time seeing the Dead play “Watchtower” without Dylan, as it
was for most of us in the Garden. Garcia’s first solo made everybody’s hair
stand on end, and then Weir shrieked, “No reason to get excited!” The roar of
the crowd just about blew the roof off MSG. It was at that point that I asked
myself, What if they play “Morning Dew”? I flashed back to that time I
saw my first “Morning Dew” in Philadelphia, and somehow, this moment would be
bigger. After all Garcia had been through, and where the Dead were now with the
success of “Touch of Grey,” did Garcia have the audacity to pull this off? The
anticipation was unbearable. The thought of “Morning Dew” emerging from
“Watchtower” was almost too much to bear. It had never happened before.
“Watchtower” fizzled into a few seconds of no
man’s land. If the next song was “Black Peter,” “Sella Blue,” or “Wharf Rat,” it
would have been a letdown. The moment demanded the Holy Grail. Garcia had no
path but the “Dew,” and he bent a warning note before striking into the
sanctified anthem. To be in the thick of that audience and to experience the
collective ecstasy is the realization of the ultimate power of music, which is
beyond anything from any other realm. It was as if New York was healing Garcia,
and Jerry had just announced that everyone had a winning lottery ticket.
Jerry sings soulfully and spiritually,
bestowing “The Dew” upon his devotees like a soothing prayer. This is where the
enthusiastic wisdom of New York Deadheads factors in. They know every nuance of
the song and treat it like a religious anthem, only expressing their joy in
response to their spiritual leader. You can hear a pin drop as Jerry growls,
“Where have all the people gawwwwn TODAY!” And then the silence is parted by
the unified roar of his flock. “Morning Dew” was more moving than ever before
for both the singer and the audience in the aftermath of Garcia’s comeback from
a near-death experience.
Phil’s bass rattles
the arena as Garcia leans forward and shreds a shrill solo between verses.
Singing from the heart of humanity, Jerry croons: “I guess it doesn’t matter
anyway,” four times, each cry more sorrowful than the last, and each ensuing
eruption from the audience, louder. Madison Square Garden was shaking from the
last roar as it never had before. It was as if a Knick just hit a three-pointer
at the buzzer to win the NBA Championship.
Usually Garcia builds his “Dew” solo
deliberately, but due to the overwhelming emotional explosion, he went for the
jugular—down on the lower part of the fretboard, a blizzard of notes. Standing
there fifteen rows from Jerry was surreal. To make sure I wasn’t dreaming, I
bent over and slapped the cement floor with the palm of my hand three times.
How is Garcia going to execute and extend this
jam when he started with a climactic tirade? Simple. He invents pathways that
never existed before. At one point he makes a circular motion with his hand, as
if he’s waving a magic wand, and then seemingly discovers a frequency that
never existed before, hitting the highest possible notes on the fretboard and
peeling them off with speed and precision before the band joins in for the
final fanning blitz. The heroics are complete with a final: “I guess it doesn’t
matter anyway.”
Weir cuts the tension
in the building by breaking into “Good Lovin’.” Halfway through there’s a
subtle shift in the chord progression, and Garcia starts singing “La Bamba.” It
was a great surprise for many on hand, although a healthy percentage of the
audience knew they had done this combo for the first time on 9-7-87 in the
Providence Civic Center, a show I was at. In MSG, the place went bonkers as
Garcia crooned, “Yo no soy marinero, soy capitan. Soy capitan, soy capitan,”
and unleashed a devil of a concise guitar solo. The Grateful Dead were now
featuring two top ten hits, because the Los Lobos version of “La Bamba” topped
the Billboard charts a few weeks earlier.
This instantly
legendary segment of Grateful Dead music overshadowed the “Knockin’ on Heaven’s
Door” encore. Just listening to the tape decades later is an emotionally
draining experience. However, revisiting this encore thirty years later, I’m
amazed by the performance. Garcia had to be exhausted, yet he deliberately
moved through Dylan’s tune and conveyed the solemn poignancy of the lyrics.
Jerry had knocked on heaven’s door, only to return to triumphantly create one
of the great nights in Madison Square Garden history. I can’t rank 9-18-87 MSG
as an all-time great show, or that “Morning Dew” as the best, but starting with
“Watchtower,” it may be the most thrilling finale in the band’s history.
The only live event that I’ve participated in
that came close to this was the 7-12-87 Dylan/Dead show at Giants Stadium.
Sometimes the music plays the band, but on 9-18-87, the sanctified venue and
the desires of the faithful propelled the Grateful Dead. And for a little
while, these brilliant musical segments allowed me to dream that a new golden
era for the Dead was on the horizon.
This date in history
gives us five Dead shows in Madison Square Garden from 1987–1993. In
’88, the band began a nine-show run in the Garden on September 14. I was hoping
that the anniversary of the already legendary Watchtower > Dew show would be
on the minds of the band as they took the stage on 9-18-88, the fourth show of
this MSG residency. Perhaps they had something in store for this occasion.
Feel Like a Stranger
> Franklin’s Tower, which was common by this time, opened a seven-song first
set. The Garden was shaking, the crowd was stoked, Jerry’s voice was off-kilter,
and most of the jams were brief. A sweet rendition of “Stagger Lee” was the
highlight of a mediocre set. There was still hope for impending magic because
the year before, Jerry blew the roof off the Garden after a mediocre opening
set.
When set two opened
with a surprise “Not Fade Away,” my friend Phil turned to me and said, “Oh no!
We’re going to have to hear the ‘Not Fade Away’ clapping and chanting twice.”
His prophecy would turn out to be true. We had both soured on “Not Fade Away,”
a song that had become a feeble crowd pleaser. Although, in the opening
position, anything was possible for this set. Madison Square Garden went
apeshit when “NFA” segued into “Scarlet Begonias.” Garcia sang almost
instantly, not letting the infectious intro resonate, and his singing was
anemic. The between-verse solo was truncated, as well as the outro. At under
seven minutes, I can’t think of a worse version of “Begonias.”
Jerry put in a solid
effort during “Fire,” hitting some impressive runs during his solos, but the
band sounded out of whack. “Women Are Smarter” electrified the crowd on 9-18-87
and was a great setup for “Terrapin.” On this night, “Women” was dead weight, meaningless
fluff before Drums. The Other One > Wharf Rat > Throwing Stones > Not
Fade Away was more uninspired drivel. Another Fall ’88 show proved to be
disappointing. As much of the crowd deliriously clapped to the beat while
chanting: “You know our love will not fade away,” my love of touring was fading
fast.
Aside from the four MSG shows, these are the other 9-18 shows explored
in Deadology:
 |
| DEADOLOGY |
9-18-74 Dijon, France
9-18-82 Boston Garden
9-18-83 Nevada County Fairgrounds
9-18-94 Shorline Amphitheatre
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