Deadology: October 9

There are six premier Dead shows on October 9, and John Lennon was born in Liverpool on this day in 1940. I could write a book on the transcendent music from this date alone; therefore, I’ll have to tighten my commentary without curbing my enthusiasm for the many outstanding performances. On October 9, 1976, the Grateful Dead appeared on the same bill as The Who in the Oakland Coliseum. This was part of the reoccurring concerts series, A Day in the Green, promoted by Bill Graham. At the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival, The Who played before the Dead and created an indelible moment in rock history. This time, the Dead turned the tables as they opened for The Who and performed a brilliant concert that is immortalized on Dick’s Picks Volume 33.

            On a sun-drenched summer’s day, the festivities begin with “Promised Land” and a sharp “Mississippi Half-Step.” The show rolls along and rockets to instant greatness during “Scarlet Begonias,” song eight of the opening set. Lesh’s bubbling bass provides a sturdy framework as the music aligns inside. There’s an ecstatic aura gushing throughout every aspect of this performance. The jam’s launched, and Jerry’s feeling all the bumpers and always playing clean because he plays by intuition. At one point, it sounds like “Begonias” is searching for a dance partner, but since “Fire on the Mountain” wasn’t available yet, Garcia carries on with a series of butter-hits-frying-pan runs. This is a stunning rendition that I’d rank as the second-best standalone “Begonias” behind the one that ended the first set in the Winterland on 3-20-77.

            The Holy Mojo’s rollin’ and there’s no way to slow the locomotive down. Sparks fly throughout Lazy Lightning > Supplication. There are two meaty solos as “Sugaree” steps into the role of set-closer. “Sugaree” seemed to grow with each performance in ’76 on its way to becoming an epic blockbuster by May ’77.

            As the Dead tune after intermission, Weir announces, “You know what? Well, Bill (Graham) says we only got an hour from when we start playing, so we’re not gonna start playing for a little bit.” Their hour begins with “St. Stephen,” and ends two hours later with a double encore. Neither intermission nor allotted time slots could derail the Dead Express on this night. Bill and Mickey are locked in tight as St. Stephen > Not Fade Away rocks. The shadow of The Who waiting in the wings seemed to inspire this thunderous output. The Who’s extraordinary bassist, John Entwistle, was celebrating his thirty-second birthday on this day by The Bay.

            Following Donna and Bobby’s “NFA” chant, a smooth chord vamp leads back into “St. Stephen.” “St. Stephen” lands with its Q & A finale: “Can you answer? Yes I can! But what would be the answer to the answer man?” A suspenseful second of silence is glorified by the bouncing beat of Garcia’s guitar proclaiming the arrival of “Help on the Way.” It’s an exhilarating handoff: the past, Aoxomoxoa, shakes hands with the future, Blues for Allah—Paradise waits, like a crest of an angel in flames.

Garcia’s guitar twangs pierce through the Oakland Coliseum like the sound of a marching brass band on Benzedrine during “Help on the Way.” Masters of their domain, the musicians blaze forth—a unified psychedelic stand. A subtle “Slipknot!” slowly and sweetly spins into a drum solo that introduces “Samson and Delilah.” This gorgeous loop finds its way back home with the resurrection of “Slipknot!”

The Slipknot! > Franklin’s Tower bridge is crafted patiently and precisely—one more tantalizing segue to the last number of the loop. And what a grand finish to the set “Franklin’s Tower” provides. Each solo is an opportunity for Jerry to paint, and he fills the canvas until the masterpiece is complete.

The fire and fury of 10-9-76 is also evident in the double encore. “One More Saturday Night” features superb vocals from Bobby and Donna. There’s tangible enthusiasm during “U.S. Blues” as the Dead get a final chance to reward their fans and impress those who came to see The Who. Garcia doubles down and extends his final smoking guitar solo of the night. This wasn’t a major event like Woodstock, but this was another performance that debunked the myth that the Dead failed to rise to the occasion on the big stage. On this afternoon in the Oakland Coliseum, they were Rock Gods beyond expectation. 

By the time the band arrived in Denver’s McNichols Sports Arena the following year on October 9, 1977, the Grateful Dead had had one of their most sensational touring runs, highlighted by their legendary performances in Cornell and Englishtown. The first set of 10-9-77 explodes towards the end with desirable tune selection almost identical to what they had played the year before in Oakland if you switch out “Scarlet Begonias” for “Music Never Stopped.” Demonic energy crackles throughout this Denver show. Maybe it could be chalked up to the mile-high atmospheric conditions. Legendary archivist Dick Latvala brought fame to the band’s next performance in Norman, Oklahoma, on 10-11-77, calling it one of the three examples of primal Dead. I’m not sure what criteria I would use if someone asked me to list three shows that embody the concept of primal Dead, but I believe this Denver show is more primal than the one in Norman. One fact is undeniable: the band was ferocious during the second week of October 1977.

Lazy Lightning > Supplication vibrates from a bombardment of compressed high-frequency sounds that gets the Dead into that strange terrain that only they can navigate. Garcia’s guitar has a shrill, glistened tone as he explores “Sugaree.” Solo two disdains civility as they rock Denver with scary, spine-tingling stuff—the Dead tap into the dark side of their collective past, unleashing unknown demons—a group exorcism. There’s nothing left in the tank for the third jam, but this is a lofty “Sugaree,” the finest one ever performed in the Rockies.

            The rabble-rousing set comes to a kinetic conclusion with “The Music Never Stopped.” Jerry’s build-up jam sears and soars, and all hell breaks loose when the band turns it over. Garcia’s picking and strumming fast and furious, a half-step ahead of his mates who are hammering away in unison. Garcia redirects the jam as the tempo continues to accelerate. It’s a test of wills. Can Garcia stay a stride ahead of the band, and can the band keep up the pace? The answers are yes and yes as the music thunders. Phil had to be jumping in the air as he pounds away in time with Billy and Mickey. The Dead are in savage mode, and they take this “Music” for a ride on the wild side. This is right up there with the best “Musics” of ’77: 5-9 Buffalo, 5-18 Atlanta, and 10-1 Portland.

            “Samson,” Scarlet > Fire keeps the engines burning at the start of set two. Don’t miss the superb “Fire” outro. The rest of the show trails off into obscurity. However, the muscular output discussed here makes 10-9-77 a distinctive, must-listen performance.

The first of fourteen Grateful Dead concerts in the picturesque Frost Amphitheater on the campus of Stanford University took place on October 9, 1982. The band shakes off the cobwebs with Alabama Getaway > Greatest Story Ever Told. The rest of the set is pure bliss—an intoxicating punch of ’82 fluidity and crispness. Weir sandwiches two lively combinations around a fluid “West L.A. Fadeaway.” A thrilling romp through “On the Road Again” leads neatly into “Beat it on Down the Line.” After singing the opening line, “Well this job I got is just a little too hard,” Weir adlibs, “Just like a Swiss watch.” This is a wonderful combination that has me wishing the Dead played “On the Road Again” more often. After the acoustic Radio City sets, twelve electric versions of “On the Road Again” were performed between ’81 and ’84. An electric “On the Road Again” always seemed to indicate that the Dead were in good spirits and in the thick of crafting exciting music. The Me and My Uncle > Big River that follows “West L.A.” is a ripper.

“Dupree’s Diamond Blues” in the ninth spot of the set is simply the best. From Garcia’s angelic voice and sparkling solos to the band’s timing, the 10-9-82 “Dupree’s” is flawless. Hunter’s clever “Don’t bring your gun to town” tale comes across vividly in 3-D. Jelly roll will drive you stone mad indeed. The danceable groove and the squeaky/slick tone of Jerry’s leads are irresistible. The Dead successfully breathed new life into “Crazy Fingers” and “Dupree’s Diamond Blues” in ’82.

“Music Never Stopped” keeps the fire burning on the heels of “Dupree’s.” There’s no hesitation or stumbling in any aspect of the playing as they streak through “Music.” Garcia drops it into overdrive from the building jam until the journey triumphantly runs its course. Jerry wants more, and instead of tacking on “Don’t Ease Me In,” he breaks into “Deal.” Whenever there’s a “Deal” after “Let it Grow” or “Music Never Stopped,” it means the band’s all in to win. They blitz through “Deal,” closing this presentation in thrilling fashion.

Set two opens with a smooth pairing of new tunes, Throwing Stones > Touch of Grey. For the most part, the kinks in these original compositions have been straightened out. The band moves on by falling back on the familiar Estimated > Eyes combo. There’s a pleasant pace to “Eyes” as another enjoyable but unremarkable version goes into the archives.

Truckin’ > The Other One > Morning Dew > One More Saturday Night provides a delectable finale for those on hand for the Dead’s Frost Amphitheatre debut. There’s a nice between-verse “Other One” jam, and “Morning Dew” is inspired all the way through and is the best of the eight “Dews” played in ’82. Many songs excelled with the ’82 style, but most versions of Scarlet > Fire, Estimated > Eyes, and “Morning Dew” lacked extensive jamming. I don’t think anyone in the Frost pondered the lack of anything on 10-9-82. This is a glowing performance, spectacular at times, and always engaging.

For more on the other outstanding October 9 performances: 10-9-72 Winterland, 10-9-83 Greensboro, 10-9-89 Hampton, check out DEADOLOGY: THE 33ESSENTIAL DATES OF GRATEFUL DEAD HISTORY

DEADOLOGY SEPTEMBER 21

            The first of fifty-three Dead performances in the Philadelphia Spectrum occurred on December 6, 1968, during the Quaker City Rock Festival. Their set list is unknown, but the Dead were part of a lineup that included Sly & the Family Stone and Iron Butterfly. The Dead’s second performance in The Spectrum on September 21, 1972, is an epic extravaganza that has been immortalized and released as Dick’s Picks Volume 36.

            A lovely “Birdsong” appears as the second tune of the night and gives flight to an overwhelming display of the band’s new material. A fetching run of songs forms the nucleus of the opening set: China Cat > Rider, “Black-Throated Wind,” “Big Railroad Blues,” “Jack Straw.” The “China Cat” jam stands out; there’s a feisty/ornery tone to Jerry’s playing throughout 9-21-72. The set closes with a rollicking “Cumberland Blues” and a tight seventeen-minute “Playin’ in the Band” workout. “Playin’” is hot, but it’s not as fiery as the 8-27-72 Venita version. However, this is one of the better opening sets of the year, and the concept of time becomes irrelevant when the band returns from break.

            Set two completes the spectacular display of how far the band has come since their initial Philly rendezvous, as well as previewing yet-to-be-released songs that would be on Europe ’72 and Wake of the Flood. At the center of this presentation is an astounding Dark Star > Morning Dew. If you remove that from the set, 9-21-72 would still be a classic. An upbeat “He’s Gone” starts the ceremony. Garcia’s stinging outro leads slither into “Truckin’.” The Spectrum salivates as the Dead pound out a rocking instrumental at the end of the emerging FM radio classic.

            Before their mission of transcendence, the Dead play “Black Peter” and “Mexicali Blues,” and out of the between-song silence they gently glide into “Dark Star.” The Spectrum transforms into a flying saucer hurtling through space. Garcia’s firing cosmic debris with soothing brushstrokes. The band’s ensconced in the essence of “Dark Star.” Around the ten-minute mark, Garcia’s guitar screeches and squawks—evidence of alien existence. The opening verse follows, and one can sense it’s going take a while before this vehicle returns.

            Bob and Jerry strike up a groovy riff and suddenly there’s a jazz jam on Mars. Kreutzmann steers the ship for a while as Phil and Keith ping-pong leads back and forth. About twenty-minutes in, Jerry starts to channel a dark disturbance as Keith slashes electric piano riffs and Phil furiously thumps away. The Dead are sounding like a Miles Davis fusion group as the music spirals round and round like a cyclone tearing far into another universe. They take it to the limit, and then the jam floats around in a vacuum of timelessness—sparse music trying to find a way back home. The Dead rise into a jam that loosely resembles “Feelin’ Groovy,” and for the next five minutes they ride an intergalactic trail. This is September 21, 1972, and the show must go on, so the Dead nonchalantly tumble into “Morning Dew.”

            It’s a concert once again as Jerry’s soulful singing stirs deep emotion alongside his mates’ astute playing. The band is relaxed and bold as they play in one of the major East Coast sports venues as the main event for the first time. The final “Dew” jam is a steaming wave of cascading heat—pure aural paradise and the best version of the year. This is a D Star > Dew for the ages, and the set is still only slightly past the halfway point.

            The Dead hammer “Beat it Down the Line,” an unusual choice on the heels of a brilliant musical segment, and a radical serving of “Mississippi Half-Step” follows. Sparkling and concise electric instrumentals are chased by enthused group harmonies. Weir seizes the moment to trot out “Sugar Magnolia.” The Philadelphia Flyers, who were nicknamed the Broad Street Bullies, used to bloody their opponents on The Spectrum ice during these years. The Grateful Dead are the antithesis of violence, but this “Sugar Magnolia” has a volatile energy as if it’s drawing its power from the crushing and bruising of human flesh inside this legendary hockey venue.

            The mood shifts as the Dead snake and scramble through a “Friend of the Devil” that’s ideal for swing dancing. If the Dead were exhausted from this marathon set, they showed no signs of fatigue during the exhilarating Not Fade Away > Goin’ Down the Road > Not Fade Away finale. The NFA > GDTRFB segue cooks, and Garcia whips up a screaming second solo on “GDTRFB.” This is one of the elite versions of a breakout year for “GDTRFB.” The “One More Saturday Night” encore rocks South Philly into submission. 

            It’s September 21, 1982, and after individually introducing the members of the band, John Scher exclaims, “Would you please welcome back to New York, the GRATEFUL DEAD!” Rapturous Madison Square Garden applause fills the arena as a four-beat count-off explodes into “Playin’ in the Band.” I was at this show, and I was in Landover on 9-15-82 when the Dead thrilled us with the first-ever Playin’ > Crazy Fingers opener. In Landover, they followed that with “Little Red Rooster” and the first East Coast “Dupree’s Diamond Blues” in five years. The carpet too is moving under you, sings Dylan, and that’s what it felt like being in Landover. Just when you think you are a master of understanding their patterns, the Dead steal your face right off your head. The Landover opening turned out to be just an elaborate warmup for the better performance of Playin’ > Fingers on 9-21-82.

            The excitement of the sung portion of “Playin’” in front of an electrified Madison Square Garden is unreal. Weir croons like a conquering hero as the band rampages through chord changes. Garcia’s noodling rushes through the audience as Billy and Mickey push the pace—hotter and hotter—on par with a ’72 version. This type of psychedelic purge is just about unprecedented at the start of any show. One song in and Madison Square Garden has landed on Pluto.

            The transition into “Crazy Fingers” is magic, one of the coolest segues I’ve ever heard. These ’82 versions of “Crazy Fingers” are richer than the ’76 offerings, and Brent’s keyboard is an important ingredient in that mix. This instrumental intro has an abracadabra, sprinkling pixie dust aura. Garcia’s moved as he restates the opening theme. Half of the Garden is cheering, the other half is breathless in suspended anticipation. “Your rain falls like crazy fingers.” As Jerry lets Hunter’s lyrics fly, Madison Square Garden is the happiest joint in the galaxy. “Crazy Fingers” has all the ideal and idiosyncratic Grateful Dead ingredients: evocative lyrics, a fleeting and hypnotic melody, and pure Jerry on guitar. After Garcia’s melancholy between-verse solo, he starts singing the wrong word for a split second, recovers, and delivers the remaining chorus as beautifully as he’s ever sung. The almost blown lyric is a lovely mole on a gorgeous face.

            The emotion in Jerry’s voice on the last verse stops time in its tracks. “Midnight on a carousel ride. Reaching for the gold ring down inside. Never could reach. It just slips away but I try.” The outro solo rides the enchanted vibe and virtuosity, and unexpectedly dashes into “Me and My Uncle,” the most-performed Dead song of all time. “Uncle” never received a grander intro than it did on this night.

            The band and the audience are riding an incredible high as Weir vibrantly sings and Garcia’s guitar reels in rhyme. “Mexicali Blues” or “Big River” will be next. The bursting pace suggests the inevitable as the band streams into “Big River.” Uncle > River has never been so striking. Brent is on fire as he bangs out a honky-tonk middle solo that has the Garden bouncing as one. Spit flies from Weir as he snaps out the final verse and the band revs the engine for Garcia’s glory as he turns the jam over seven times. This is twice as long as an average “River” solo. Garcia charges out of the gate, shifts gears, and repeats as the instrumental climaxes. Everybody in the band pulls their weight.

            The Garden goes berserk as the music stops for the first time. The funky/blues beat of “West L.A. Fadeaway” emerges. This is the lucky seventh version of this tune born in Veneta, Oregon, on 8-28-82. Of all the new In the Dark tunes that emerged in ’82 and ’83, “West L.A. Fadeaway” seemed to be the immediate favorite amongst Deadheads. With Brent’s slick licks greasing the speedway and Phil’s bomb’s clearing the tracks, it was green lights for jamming Jerry. A fine “Beat it Down the Line” follows, and practically segues into “Loser.” There was little dead air or indecisiveness.

            “Looks Like Rain” shines on 9-21-82 thanks to Garcia’s moody licks. Weir had an electric night as a vocalist, and his embellishments towards the end of “LLR” are overenthusiastic bordering on silly. Jerry has Weir’s back all the way, attentively playing off his every vocal whim. The Garden crowd roars as Weir howls, “All my life I’ve seen rain, rain, rain, can’t take no more fuckin’ rain, no!” Garcia’s garrulous guitar rolls on after Weir screams his final “AH-HAHH!” The noodling ends and the Dead top off the set with a succinct China Cat > Rider—explosive, dramatic, and climactic. 

For more on September 21 in Grateful Dead history check out Deadology