Before dissecting the hottest “Hard
to Handle” known to man, let’s rejoice in more Europe ’72. After playing Tivoli
on 4-17, the band’s next scheduled gig was 4-24 in Dusseldorf, West Germany.
During their brief break, the band filmed a performance at a studio in Bremen,
West Germany, for the Beat Club TV show. Following a soundcheck, during
which they performed “Loser” and “Black Throated Wind,” the band was
introduced, and they proceeded to play for eighty-three minutes. Out of this
dynamic set of music, only “One More Saturday Night” was aired on the Beat Club. Five decades later, the
entire Beat Club video was shown in select theatres nationwide at the 4th
annual Grateful Dead Meet-Up at the Movies in 2013. The video of this show was
never officially released as a DVD, but the show can be viewed on YouTube (as of
publication of this book). 
Jerry appears like a loveable bear
in a black leather jacket as the band starts their set with “Bertha.” Garcia’s
bushy black beard is neatly groomed, and his demeaner is stoic. A slow-moving
tie-dye/psychedelic backdrop glides across the screen as the band jams. The
closeups of the Dead are superb. As “Playin’ in the Band,” begins, Donna joins
the festivities. One of the highlights of this video is watching Jerry unload
early in “Playin’” as Donna softly sways. Donna looks amazed by the guitar
virtuosity of The Bearded One. Pigpen’s vocals are powerful during an excellent
presentation of “Mr. Charlie.”
The Grateful Dead had difficulty capturing
the X factor in recording studios throughout the years. On this occasion in
Bremen, they were essentially performing a concert without a live audience, and
the results were fabulous. Fifteen years later, the Dead successfully used this
format of setting up as if they were performing live when they recorded In the Dark.
A lively “One More Saturday Night”
is followed by a second serving of “Playin’ in the Band.” Redundancy is not an
issue here as the band doles out another wild and wicked round of
improvisation. The performance ends with Truckin’ > Drums > Other One.
Phil’s blasts ignite a brilliant twenty-three-minute “Other One.” Garcia’s
shrieking leads blaze a trail through a path of pounding bass detonations. The
jam dissolves, reorganizes, and strengthens before Weir sings, “Spanish lady
comes to me she lays on me this rose.” Between verses there’s an aural inferno
before the jam dissolves into a dreamlike state, drifting in and out of
consciousness—time out of mind terrain. With a subtle shifting of tempo, the
jamming becomes more furious than before—Garcia’s searing leads spiral round
and round in a tight blizzard of sound. “Escaping through the lily fields I
came across an empty space,” howls Weir. On this day, Apollo 16 landed on the
lunar highlands of the moon. All this cosmic improv captures the flavor of the
day.
Back in Bremen, the Grateful Dead’s
allotted studio time is almost done. Instead of an abrupt ending, the band
noodles on as they resist the temptation of breaking into a new tune before improvising
a climactic instrumental fanfare.
April 21, 1971, was the first of twenty
Grateful Dead shows in Providence, and the only one in the Rhode Island
Auditorium. The other nineteen shows were in the Providence Civic Center,
opened in ’72. Just like New York City and Philadelphia, the smaller
Northeastern municipality of Providence brought the beast out of the Dead. A
simple introduction, “Here’s the Grateful Dead,” is followed by an exhilarating
dash through “Casey Jones.” If you ever need to remind yourself of why this is
a cherished anthem, listen to this version. The pacing is perfect, and the band
savors every nuance of the composition. Romping down the homestretch, Garcia
sounds like wrestler Ric Flair: “Driving that train high on cocaine. Whoo!
Casey Jones you better watch your speed.”
In the middle of the set a Truckin’
> Drums > Other One > Wharf Rat combo sets the stage for improbable
theatre. “Hard to Handle” was dropped into the right spot. The Dead are sufficiently
warmed up, and they are feeding off the vibe of playing in this hockey rink.
Pig delivers a potent vocal with a rap that doesn’t drag on too long. Lesh lays
down a beat, and at the same time plays lead bass. Weir and Garcia strike up a
soulful groove as Jerry latches onto a few riffs that he likes and will utilize
later.
The jam becomes urgent around the 6:10
mark as the ascension to greatness commences. Garcia and Lesh are on the same
frequency and they’re finishing each other’s ideas. Garcia’s en fuego, yet he’s
holding back, building towards a sensational finale, and the rest of the band
senses it. Bobby, Billy, and Phil break down the jam so Garcia could scale Mt.
Everest. Jerry charges past the mountaintop and shoots towards the stars. The
jam is as hot as can be, and then Garcia invents licks on a frequency that
never existed before. It’s that ability to open doors where they logically
don’t exist that separates Garcia from other guitar legends.
There would only be fourteen more “Handles”
with Pigpen, and from that batch, I’d rate 7-2-71 (Filmore West) and 8-6-71
(Hollywood Palladium) as the top challengers to the undisputed champ,
Providence. Phil’s bass rattles the 4-21-71 “Handle” to its conclusion, and a
few seconds later, he leads his mates into an infectious romp through
“Cumberland Blues.” This tape is a must listen for Phil fanatics. “Birdsong”
and a moving “Me and Bobby McGee” conclude this fulfilling set.
The second set is charming, brief,
and a preview of the band’s new direction. Hippie sweat dripped as Providence
bounced to “Bertha” and “Sugar Magnolia.” NFA > GDTRFB > NFA ended a rocking
set. It was the best performance of that combo to date, but it pales in
comparison to the versions later in the year when Keith joined the Dead. The
double encore of Uncle John’s Band > Johnny B. Goode was especially pleasing
for those named John.
During their first show in the Ark
in Boston on 4-21-69, we can hear the roots of the segue connecting “Goin’ Down
the Road Feelin’ Bad” and the “Not Fade Away” reprise emerging from the jam in
“Alligator.” The band toys with this riff for several minutes as they connect
“Alligator” to the last song of the opening set, “Doin’ That Rag.” The first
set of 4-21-69 looks attractive, but the band’s performance wasn’t up to par
with the high standard they set in April ’69. Set two was better, but this show
is not as hot as the previously discussed second night in The Ark.
A three-minute “Foxy Lady” jam kicks
off the 4-21-69 second set. It’s an interesting, one-time-only instrumental,
and a prelude to another gleaming presentation of Dark Star > St. Stephen
> The Eleven > Lovelight. Perhaps the finest performance of the night was
the “Viola Lee Blues” encore. There’s a jovial tone to the big jam early on,
and after substantial virtuosity from all, Phil leads the band into a cascading
avalanche of sound—a fantastic conclusion for pioneers revolutionizing the concept
of live music.
This day in Deadology also gives us the Dead’s second performance of Warren
Zevon’s
One of the pitfalls of having fans
record every note of your music isn’t the off nights—those are to be expected—but
the dreaded embarrassing moments, which were few and far between for the
Grateful Dead, which is remarkable considering they performed consistently for
the better part of thirty years. On April 21, 1986, in the Berkeley Community
Theatre, Brent Mydland had an unfortunate meltdown in the second set.
A brisk dash through “Mississippi Half-Step”
opens 4-21-86. It seemed like the driving force behind this performance was
finishing it in under seven minutes. Remarkably, this “Half-Step” clocks in at
6:56. Still a pleasurable tune to hear, “Half-Step” was a shell of the
masterpiece it was in the ’70s. Although, “Half-Step” had a nice resurgence in
1988, thanks to some impressive outro solos courtesy of Señor Garcia. On paper, the opening set
looks good, with selections like “Cumberland Blues,” “Desolation Row,” and
“Ramble on Rose.” However, the playing is sloppy, and the main culprit is
Brent. His keyboards are too loud in the mix, and his playing clashes with
Jerry. The set-ending “Let it Grow” becomes a Brent showcase for the first
time. His licks are pretty good, but he steps all over Jerry, and consequently,
the performance suffers.
An uneventful “Eyes of the World” is
the third song of set two. Jerry, Phil, and Bobby leave the stage for the Drums
> Space segment, but like a drunk who won’t leave the bar, inebriated Brent
keeps twinkling the keys. He stepped over most of Jerry’s solos, so it makes
sense that he would blow up the drummer’s showcase.
Brent introduced his new composition, “Maybe
You Know,” in Burlington, Vermont, on 4-13-83. It was a bluesy tune with
impassioned singing that was played five times on that tour. And like most
Brent tunes from that era, it was promptly dismissed from the rotation. On
4-21-86 in the Berkeley Theatre, it sounds like Brent’s loosely approaching
that song. Several minutes of fiddling around prevented the drummers from
taking off on their destination, so Brent starts playing and singing “Maybe You
Know” without the rest of the band on the stage. His voice is filled with
despair and rage, and the drummers aren’t sure how to accompany this
booze-induced emotional breakdown. The music comes to an odd pause. The crowd
is too stunned to encourage Brent. Out of the lull Brent vents again, his
tormented soul screams, “Maybe you know how I’M FUCKING FEELING! But maybe to
you it don’t seem so real!” The song continues to drone on, yet there’s no way
to get this back on track. Jerry, Bobby, and Phil return and immediately launch
into “Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Bad.”
Trying to salvage the show, the band
segues into “Morning Dew.” Jerry sings with deep feeling, and the final solo is
good, but Brent pounds his B3 with too much force during the climactic finish.
“Around and Around” is followed by a surprise “Not Fade Away.” It was a nice
rally by the band, but the Brent breakdown overshadowed any musical
developments.
Between basketball and hockey, the
Philadelphia Spectrum was booked solid in April of ’84, so the Grateful Dead
played three shows in the Philadelphia Civic Center. I attended all three shows
and was in the second row, right in front of Jerry on the second night, 4-20-84.
Garcia appeared unhealthy and immobile, but this was the show of the tour. The
song selections and performances were outstanding, despite Garcia’s ailing
voice. The Scarlet > Fire is brilliant as Jerry methodically and creatively
jams in every solo and segue. And a hot “Morning Dew” was played towards the
end of the set. The last night in Philly was bound to be a little bit of a
letdown for fanatics like myself who rightfully take this stuff seriously.
I wasn’t thrilled with 4-21-84 as it
was happening, and probably never listened to the tape more than once. On rediscovery,
I enjoyed potent versions of the first three tunes: Alabama Getaway >
Promised Land and “Friend of the Devil.” The middle part of the set was bogged
down in mediocrity until the final jam of the set in “Deal.” Garcia poked and
pecked this way and that way, velocity streamed side by side with creativity as
he dealt a winning hand with the nonchalant accuracy of a Vegas blackjack
dealer.
Philadelphia received all the
desired, big-time, second set combo openers. On 4-19, China Cat > I Know You
Rider started the journey; on 4-20, it was Scarlet Begonias > Fire on the
Mountain, and 4-21 featured Help on the Way > Slipknot! > Franklin’s
Tower. Garcia and mates tap into the uplifting spirit of Hunter’s lyrics and
roll the good times into a relentless “Slipknot!” Unlike the dark “Slipknot!” ambush
on 4-17-84 in Niagara Falls Convention Center, this Garcia foray boils
smoothly. I suggest checking out the extremely powerful Niagara Falls “Slipknot!”
The congruency continues in Philly with an
attentive “Franklin’ s Tower.” After returning this beloved Blues for Allah trifecta to the rotation
in ’83, just about every version in ’84 is desirable.
Set two carried on with Playin’ >
China Doll. Jerry’s achy voice butchered this version, robbing the poignant
lullaby of its potency. After Drums > Space, the Dead beat a hasty and lazy
retreat with Wharf Rat > Throwing Stones > Not Fade Away. “Throwing
Stones” was a new Weir tune that hit a nerve, captured a real political fear in
the air, and it was morphing into a better song tour by tour. “Not Fade Away”
was a complete commercial copout. Garcia’s jams didn’t offer much, and the
whole exercise seemed simply designed to lead the crowd into a “Not Fade Away”
chant. As much as the band was encouraging crowd anticipation, they were taking
the road of least resistance. “Not Fade Away” was once a tremendous jam anthem.
Now it was nothing more than a dog and pony show. The year 1984 had its share
of frustrations, as well as exclamation points. It’s all part of the improbable
and mythological history of the Grateful Dead.
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