Tuesday, February 27, 2024

1/19/73 Jerry wants cream and sugar

I hadn't listened to 1/19/73 at the Keystone in years, but a little discussion about bass players and musicians who subbed with Garcia/Saunders led me to circle back to it, one of the rare recordings of "solo Jerry" without John Kahn.  Bassist Marty David was holding it down tonight instead.  So, here are some listening notes, made with an ear tilted more towards the bass.  I'm sure we'll never know why Kahn missed this particular night, but Marty David does a fantastic job: he seems familiar with nearly every tune, and has a slightly lighter and cleaner touch than Kahn, favoring a slightly busier approach, though never to the point of overdoing it, and it all comes together quite nice.

Sarah Fulcher, by Jim Needham
  • I am not weighing in on Sarah Fulcher's contributions to this lineup, and if you are reading this, chances are good that you already have an opinion. Jesse Jarnow's interview explains the situation; in her defense, she says she "did the best I could under pretty much the worst circumstances in the universe" for a singer.  I did notice that, late in the show, a guy in the audience asks who she is and Jerry introduces her; it sounds like the guy yells, "Sarah sings nice!" and Jerry replies, "yeah."
  • There were several tunes that were practically unique to this lineup, and this show kicks off with the only known recording of a peppy and most certainly off-the-cuff arrangement of King Harvest's fun, goofy 1972 hit Dancing in the Moonlight (written by Sherman Kelly; quite a story), as Betty gets the mix settled. It's a good time!
  • Can't ever go wrong with Lonely Avenue.  This one doesn't have the imperial heaviness of 2/6/72 or 5/4/73, but is nevertheless nearly 18 1/2 minutes of Jerry throwing around blues licks and playing some serious guitar.  Notably, this is significantly longer than the versions played on 1/15/73 and 1/25/73, which are each a little over 12 minutes long.  Here my ears perked up around 8:15ish at a flurry of pinched harmonics (ala Roy Buchanan or Robbie Robertson), some Buchanan-esque volume swelling @11:20, and Jer piling on the intensity around 13-14 min for some climactic energy.  Merl gets a little space to say his piece, but this is pretty much all Jerry. It also caught my ear that Merl spends more time on electric piano (heavy wahwah) than Hammond organ here, giving this a more spacious feel, but maybe at the cost of some melodrama.  A couple songs later, Jimmy Reed's It's a Sin gets a similarly fine performance: it was a good blues night for Jerry!
  • Expressway - I am hearing Marty David as being a tad more on top of the beat than Kahn usually was, giving this one a nice crisp pop.  Kahn tended to lean back and lumber a bit on this tune.  Sarah sings intermittently, and they've all achieved liftoff by 7 min in -- this is pretty cooking.  During Sarah's "solos," I appreciate how the rest of the band is attentive to slowly bringing up the energy, which then gives Jerry a nice place to blast off from when it's his turn.  I hear a tiny bit of synthesizer from Merl towards the end (17:40ish) and it's all over at just under 20 min. 
  • Before The System, it sounds like Jerry is maybe explaining something about the tune to Marty David?  Oh man, Merl's electric piano sounds tasty at the start of this.  This sure is funky, but it's also nearly 28 minutes long, and the jamming is all on one chord -- my only issue with this is that Marty David holds down that bassline for all its worth (completely understandable) and isn't hearing where Jerry or Merl seem like they're ready to cut loose and stretch a little further afield.  A couple times they do slip out of the groove, but never for long.  Merl gets to flex a bit more on all three keyboards, Sarah has a few moments but nothing too intrusive, and Jerry sounds happy to just ride it out.  And so they do.  Afterwards, Sarah asks for a cup of coffee; "oh, two cups of coffee. Jerry wants cream and sugar, and I'd like to have mine with just cream, please."  Priceless.
  • I always like hearing them play Honey Chile, and Jerry sounds great, but I couldn't help but feel like they're running that same I-IV-ii-I progression forever.  Gimme a bridge already!  Jer can certainly handle it, but yeah, I can see why he eventually moved away from this being a primary focus of his side projects.  He then announces the break and Betty lets the tape roll for a minute longer, catching some jazz-flutey ambiance from the PA music, always a nice touch.  That was a long set at least an hour 45 minutes!  And pretty damn fine, I would say.


  • The second set is shorter (just over an hour) and less remarkable to my ears.  Sarah seems more like the "featured singer" on more material here, which all sounds well done to me.  She steps upfront for two of her original(?) tunes plus Georgia On My Mind, which is a fantastic version.  Someone from the crowd asks Jerry who the chick singer is (groan) and Jerry introduces her just as Sarah.
  • Again, Marty David sounds excellent on everything.  Before Soul Roach, it sounds like Jerry asks him if he knows the tune -- which he evidently does, since he's nailing all the hits at the beginning of it.  I wonder if he had also played with Merl before?  And notice him during the closing How Sweet It Is, another fine place to hear how he differs from John Kahn.

So who was Marty David anyway? All I know about him is that he went on to be a session musician, but was working at the time with Van Morrison and Jesse Colin Young. Most immediately relevant to our purposes, he was also in Sarah Fulcher's own local group with Bill Vitt (who had brought her to the Garcia/Saunders group) and future-JGB keyboardist Ozzie Ahlers (per Corry) -- so he was probably the most obvious choice as a sub for this gig. You can also hear him playing on two tracks on Hard Nose the Highway and with Van on 2/15/73 at the Lion's Share (broadcast on KPFA and bootlegged), although not on the subsequent tour that was documented on It's Too Late to Stop Now.  Later that year he also toured with Jesse Colin Young: you can hear 10/?/73 Paul's Mall in Boston (etree), 10/31/73 Portland ME (Wolfgang's), 11/19/73 Ultrasonic Studios in Hempstead, NY (etree),  and 12/15/73 Winterland (video + audio at Wolfgang's) (this was the same show, incidentally, where Jerry sat in with the NRPS on a Telecaster), and also played on Young's 1974 album Light Shine (again with Ozzie Ahlers).  He was from Brownsville in Brooklyn, and had also previously been a New York-based band called Holy Moses!! that released one album in 1971, which provides the one picture of Marty David that I could find:

but which of these men is Marty David?

Wednesday, December 6, 2023

12/6/73 at 50: ideal silences

 

There's a quote somewhere (I told the intern to go look it up; dunno where he got to, though) where Jerry says that a song ideally has a moment of pure silence in it. I'm pretty sure he was talking about Stella Blue, but this is a good one to file away next to other nuggets about the musical value of not playing anything.  Silence in Dark Star, or "Space" jams in general, isn't exactly a rare thing, so I don't want to make too much of it: but there are two very small ones in this Dark Star that are perfect, like pinholes into infinity, and I would like to acknowledge them.  It is the 50th anniversary of this behemoth piece of music, and almost 15 years ago I banged out an appreciation about it that needs no revision to sum up my feelings -- but in the years that followed, I have come to love one additional specific thing about it.  

In that original write-up, I mentioned a CD copy of this show that I was fortunate to get sometime between 1999-2001 that tracked the "tuning" and "intro" separate from the main Dark Star.  On that copy, Dark Star itself was tracked when Billy slides into his swinging cymbal beat as Jerry trickles in (@3:10 on the current fileset), but the "intro" began at 1:28 -- the moment where, to my ears, the tuning ends and the gentle but wholly intentional playing commences.  This magical little black dot of silence is what always bring to mind Tom Constanten's words about Dark Star being a thing that you enter, not a thing that you start playing.

The instrumental texture of Keith's Fender Rhodes and Phil's bass chord at 2 min is about a warm a sound as I've ever heard from the Dead (or, really, most anything this side of Jaco Pastorius' "Portrait of Tracy" or John Martyn's "Solid Air," but I digress)

If anything, I downplayed just how much Keith is playing in this.  I wouldn't call it overplaying (although it seems like 300% of what he usually plays), since I do feel that he is completely zoned in and doing exactly what ought to be happening.  But Bob seems a bit more reserved in this, and I suspect part of the reason is that Keith was just taking up more space than usual.  But go ahead Keith!  It sounds perfect.  After the scorched earth Phil/Jerry showdown that decimates the second half of this, who's feeling all perky and ready to get back on the road?  Keith is.

Then at 29:13, comes the second great silence: the only sound is Jerry just scraping a string very quietly, and there's another tiny pause -- debatably there are one or two more in the quiet passage that follows over the next minute.  Everyone is listening so hard and the tension is palpable.  And then things get very, very loud indeed.

Thursday, November 16, 2023

Ornette meets Healy

jazz tangent: one thing that has pulled me away from more consistent GD/JG listening (besides the ebb and flow of life) is my new hobby (calling it a "practice" makes me wince) of listening slowly to entire discographies of jazz greats who I want a more comprehensive overview of (so far, since you asked: Bobby Hutcherson, Yusef Lateef, and Sun Ra). I am working on Ornette Coleman right now.

In August 1968, Ornette was in the Bay Area with his band that included, controversially, his 12-year-old son Denardo on drums. His brief spell with Impulse! Records produced two live albums, the first of which, Ornette at 12, was recorded at the Greek Theater in Berkeley on Aug 11, 1968. Working that show was the GD's soundman Dan Healy -- the LP notes credit him as engineer (misspelled Healey), so I don't know if he was also mixing the live sound or just recording it (I suspect both, since I think Ornette produced this himself and just licensed the tapes to Impulse!).  There is more from this concert that remains unheard: it was billed as Ornette Coleman & Orchestra, since part of the SF Symphony joined for his composition "Sun Suite" (unrecorded, afaik, though that's the score on the Fillmore West poster below!), as did his former bandmate, trumpeter Bobby Bradford.  But the album only features performances by the quartet, so maybe the rest didn't go as well? I would sure love to hear it anyway.


The week before the Greek concert, Ornette's quartet played at the Fillmore West on Aug 5, apparently one of Bill Graham's only single-night/single-act bookings (the poster advertises the band as a quintet with Bradford, but he has confirmed that he was not there). A month earlier, Graham had taken over the venue formerly known as the Carousel Ballroom and renamed it.  Given that his capitalist ways marked the end of the hippie dream of a communal venue, the story goes that local musicians were briefly boycotting his new venture, and Rhoney Stanley recalled in her book that Jerry Garcia broke with principle only to go see Ornette play (thank you again, Light Into Ashes, for sharing that quote), although I can't help but notice that the Dead were booked at the Fillmore West on Aug 20-22 and again on Aug 30-Sept 1.

 

Healy had been working with the Dead from mid-1966 until mid-1968.  The exact reasons for his departure are unclear, but Corry Arnold speculates that, with Owsley returning to the GD organization, Healy may have sought fresh opportunities elsewhere. He worked with Quicksilver Messenger Service (as soundman, producer, and sometimes bassist!), played with his own band (the nearly forgotten Hoffman's Bycycle; Corry ibid.), and worked as a freelance engineer with some connection to Mercury Records (Corry again, also Light Into Ashes). And he didn't really fully cut ties with the Dead: he recorded them in Los Angeles on Aug 23-24 (interestingly, Quicksilver was booked those nights at the Fillmore West), using Warner Bros' fancy 8-track equipment, which was eventually released as Two From the Vault (some info), and evidently was in and out of the studio with them until his full-time return in 1972. But could Healy have also worked the Ornette show at the Fillmore West? It's certainly possible, but we'll never know unless someone asks him.

So what? So I think that's all pretty cool. Healy gave plenty of interviews, and I have only looked at a few of them. But I am guessing no one has asked him about this Ornette concert at the Greek. As far as I know, this is his one jazz recording credit, and, of course, it sounds good.  And Healy did, of course, mix for Ornette at least twice again: when he opened for the Dead and then sat in on 2/23/93, and again on 12/9/93.



Tuesday, November 7, 2023

11/7/93 until he organizes his best potential

wrong show, wrong band, great pic: 9/29/93 by Robbi Cohn
 

I have alluded to loving this overlooked show before, so for its 30th anniversary (at the eleventh hour, of course), I figured I would kick myself to write about Jerry Garcia again and say a few things about it.

In his great book Every Song Ever (2016), Ben Ratliff observed that being a deadhead -- specifically, collecting and listening to all these shows -- means "to practice long stretches of suspended judgment until the group organizes its best potential."

It is listening in the long view, with a basic understanding that the band’s music only significantly changes when the body gives out; otherwise, that music represents one long discourse, all of it intrinsically valuable.

If you enjoy Garcia's music from his final years, then surely this must be true for you, whether you think of it this way or not. It is certainly true for me, but not for reasons of "I was there!" nostalgia or relativism ("I guess Jerry sounds pretty good... for a guy who could barely keep his head up and was near the end"). There are things I hear Jerry play in 1993 that hold up as being as powerful as anything he ever did, although very different from his work as a younger man. In 1993, Garcia's best potential, as Ratliff would put it, was not the same potential as 1973 or 1983. Assessing the work of artists who rely on technical ability (like musicians) as they age can be challenging, given that our terms of engagement with their work often focuses on innovation or "development" rather than consolidation and refinement. Jazz critic Stanley Crouch argues this about Louis Armstrong:

As maturity increases, the speed of perception and experience becomes denser, fewer details are needed to recognize essential meanings. While the younger person is still contemplating, the old master has moved on to the next point, digesting through the shorthand made possible by the passage of many moons. In art, that law allows the individual gesture to take on greater resonance. The best of Louis Armstrong's work after fifty proves that his expressive ideas didn't reach their peak until he was nearly sixty. (Crouch, Considering Genius)

I realize I am wandering out on the thin ice of romanticizing "old Jerry," and let's be real: his physical health was in real deterioration by 1993, and his mental/emotional well-being was not being helped by, to use another shorthand, the Burden of Being Jerry. And yet, all those shortcomings aside, the old master Jerry does make some gestures here that do take on a greater resonance for me, and hopefully for you too.   

So: Nov 7, 1993 at the newly rechristened USAir Arena (formerly the Capitol Centre) of Landover, MD.  The JGB's final east coast tour, very close to the abrupt end of the great David Kemper era, but traveling in fine style nevertheless. From what I understand, this particular venue was known then for its particularly tough security, and the two circulating audience tapes both suffer from that.  I personally prefer the earlier unknown Schoeps source which to my ears is slightly more palatable than the tape made by the usually reliable Clay Brennecke (no fault of his own; he gets busted early on, sounds like he bribes his way out of a pickle, and gets the rest of the show, albeit with a bit more discretion, I'm sure)

  • Not much to say about the start of the first set, but ol' Jerry was saved more than once by the adage, "when the going gets tough, the tough slow down." And the first important thing that happens is the late-set SeƱor: my single favorite performance of this amazing song, thanks to its guitar solo. Find me a better one (official released included). Four choruses of perfection -- okay, then two more choruses of unnecessary but by no means bad extra stuff. Vocals have their rust spots and occasional brainfarts, but that's rarely on my rubric when he is playing so well. I suspend my judgment until the group organizes its best potential.  
  • Everybody Needs Somebody to Love.  I have more to say in general about Garcia's stripped-down arrangement of this already simple song (all good things), but by fall 93 it had turned into a behemoth, a slow-rolling tribal stomp, and a thing of glory. This is not quite the best that it got -- at the moment, I would nominate 11/3/93 for that (another post) -- but this is pretty damn near the top.  14 1/2 minutes of a giant ball of energy just rolling around and around and around the stadium.
  • The second set opens with another all-timer: show me a better The Way You Do the Things You Do. Another tune that warrants a more in-depth look sometime, it was performed in a straightforward Motown-goes-barband style for eight years, left the repertoire for six, then reappeared in 1990 with a reggae-ish sway, courtesy of Jahn Kahn's most memorable bassline and a gently spacey groove.  The end jam would swell and occasionally became ground for some inspiration to blossom, and this version is the epitome of that (although see also 11/18/93 for a sprawling 20+ version that is also a treasure).  Jerry grooves along, slides into some jazzy comping for a minute and a half, but never fully cedes to Melvin Seals. Instead, he builds tension by playing not much but teasingly just enough, finally eases back into more proper lead guitar, but the focus seems more rhythmic than melodic, and then finally lets all that tension boil over (@12:35ish) with some climactic fanning for about 40 seconds. This will be a very nice surprise if you primarily associate this tune with a few jammy minutes of light, bubbly grooviness.
  • Money Honey. Not quite a rarity, but not a setlist staple either, and my hunch is that it was generally a good sign when Jerry felt like belting this one out.  Again, not perfect lyrically, but he delivers a few choruses of divebomb blues with his claws out.
  • Knockin' On Heaven's Door. A semi-rarity; the only one of the tour, and only played three more times onstage in his life (once with the JGB, twice with the GD). You know how you feel about this song, and this version is lovely.
  • Don't Let Go.  All-timer? No. But damn good, I say. Appreciate how Jerry playfully sings way down looow in the final round of "hold me tight and don't let go"s, while Melvin mimics his vocal. Then he tears the heck out of the jam, brings it up to a nice climax, then collapses into lonesome space for a few minutes, the Hammond B3 framing Jerry's moaning in the moonlight, before he brings it back home. Not too many Don't Let Go's were ending in free space anymore (list forthcoming, hopefully?), so that's a nice touch. Overall: a mighty fine Don't Let Go.
  • Mississippi Moon.  A real rarity for the 90's, and the only one of the tour again. Again, there are some rust spots on the vocals and the turnarounds, but Jerry digs in for the solo, and then digs in again for a unusual(?) second solo after Melvin's featured spot (which was usually the piece's climax).
  • After all that, I wish that Tangled Up in Blue came crashing into the end of this set like a missile, but it does not. It's a little slow and maybe too carefully paced at first, but he gets the truck out on the highway and invites you to ride it out with him. He might be coasting a bit during the solos, but as the jam begins, he seems to pause for a breath, braces himself, and channels some that Leo energy into a regal final jam. There's nice energy bump just before the 11 min mark that gets us across the finish line, but it all sounds pretty good to me.

Best potential organized? I would say so, yes. One long discourse, all of it intrinsically valuable. So I will end, as I ought to, with a salute to the tapers.  Midway through Tangled, there's a moment when the high frequencies drop out, when (I assume) the mics are lowered and hidden. Then @6:45, the quality increases and, with a "whoo!" of relief, one taper hollers to the other, "the things we have to go through!"  Thank goodness you did!  Thank you tapers!

scan courtesy Fate Music/JGMF


Saturday, October 29, 2022

10/28/72 hello Cleveland

 

satellite view of the Dead lighting up downtown Cleveland

It is peak fall in my neck of the woods, and fall '72 feels very right right now.  So here are some scattered observations about this show, not one for the "best of 72" list but a very enjoyable one, marred by a poor quality recording, and one that caught my eye for a couple of setlist oddities.  Not to mention another big ol' Dark Star.

So, the Dead in Cleveland.  Someone help me here: there's a Cleveland Convention Center with two venues, the smaller Music Hall and the larger Public Hall.  The Dead played the Public Hall in 1972, 73, 79, and 80, but played the Music Hall in 1970, 78, and 81 -- is that right?  There are pics of 12/6/73 in a larger art deco auditorium with a huge stage, which is said to be the Public Hall.

The Rowan Brothers opened this show, according to this review.

Like a lot of later fall 72 tapes, the mix stinks.  I've seen many of these fall 72 sbds referred to as "monitor mixes" and I have repeated that myself, but I don't think that's accurate: from what I understand now, the band didn't have a separate monitor feed in 1972, let alone individual monitor mixes for different bandmembers.  So my guess is that this tape (made by Bear) is a straight sbd feed.  Vocals and drums are the loudest, Lesh's bass is the lowest, and the guitars and piano move around.  It's what we've got.

Weir picks the opener for the show, but Garcia's first two choices this evening are Friend of the Devil and China>Rider.  I have opined elsewhere that 9/21/72 has perhaps Garcia's most inspired opening gambit (Bird Song and China>Rider), but this sure ain't a bad way to get the ball rolling.  As far as I can tell, this was the earliest placement in a show that FOTD ever had (with the Dead at any rate; dunno about JGB).  

Another first set highlight is a spirited Box of Rain.  I like how Weir screams loudly as Lesh counts it off.  Weir screams a lot during this show.

Weir's mic craps out during Bobby McGee, prompting a pause for a replacement.  Garcia noodles Teddy Bear's Picnic.  Evidently someone from the crowd is throwing marshmellows onstage, which nobody in the band seems particular fazed about.

They play Candyman for the first time in just over a year.

Playing in the Band is, no surprise, another late '72 monster, nothing too unusual for the period, but whoa.  Hard to fully assess what's happening here since the bass is so low, but Garcia and Kreutzmann are locked in like Coltrane and Elvin Jones, and the peak they hit @15:45 is wonderful (hear Weir holler in delight, yet again).  There's a long, luscious swim back to the reprise that's marred by a small cut, but this one is still a keeper.

Opening the second set with He's Gone seems like the move of a supremely confident band.  It wasn't actually that unusual a move in fall 72, but it happened rarely after that.

Greatest Story Ever Told is a freakin' rager!  I mean they all are, but this one is extra hot.  Jerrrry.

Attics of My Life!  This was the second of only two played that year, and the last one in front of an audience until 1989!  Oh woe.  It sounds so good.

This Big River is not a particularly noteworthy one, but it does inaugurate a brief and unexpected tradition of Big River preceding a really heavy duty Dark Star (see also 2/15/73, 10/19/73, 10/30/73, 11/11/73, 12/6/73, 9/10/74 - weird, right?)

Roadmap to this monster Dark Star: This initial jam feels like I'm lost in a dark forest, groping towards bright lights in the distance.  Lesh's bass is audible, but still lower than everything else.  After 5 minutes, they smoothly pick up the tempo, Garcia sizzling away as Godchaux skips stones behind him; they're mostly cruising along in good ol' A mixolydian, and Garcia builds to a beautiful peak at 9:30ish, then settles thing down as he glides into the first verse a couple minutes later.  Things proceed as usual as they ease back and Lesh takes center stage... he doodles around, Garcia and Kreutzmann join in, but just when things seem like they're about to tip over into darkness, Lesh begins strumming the chords of the theme that's now known for posterity as the "Philo Stomp" jam.  Not a fan of that name, but oh well.  It's an incongruously perky little thing, but everyone joins in and Garcia pulls back into the Dark star mode, and this just sounds triumphant.  Check out him trilling @19:30!  Oh man.  By 22 min, Garcia has twisted off in a weirder direction and they start building to a Tiger, albeit via the scenic route.  It boils over at 24:45, rages hard for a minute, then abruptly stops.  They splash around for the final two minutes; I hear no piano here at all; and then Bob boots 'em into Sugar Magnolia.  I wouldn't call this a Dark Star for the ages, nor even one in the top tier of 1972, but we're still talking about a full 3-course meal here; just stunning that something like this is second-level for the year.

This Dark Star, for me, will forever be associated with Dick Latvala's epic introduction from the Grateful Dead Hour, which was once upon a time the only source for this jam.  Treat yourself to a listen.  Dick sounds like he just snorked down a bongwater martini and would have been in no shape whatsoever to deliver a lengthy seaside chat.  "My armpit left the universe."  God bless ya, Dick.

Nice touch in Sugar Magnolia: during the pause before Sunshine Daydream, you can hear Bob jokingly tell Donna as she walks out, "take your time, take your time."

Casey Jones shuts things down with a classic drawn-out, hellraising ending.  It sounds like Weir is telling someone down front to be careful and take it easy.  He also keeps screaming his head off.  Shoot the moon, Bobby, shoot the moon.

Sunday, August 28, 2022

not to wax nostalgic, but...

...ah what the hell, it's my blog.  I was digging around in the one box of cassette tapes that has survived the decades (snicker if you want, but when you've been carting around a thousands LP's and CD's for half of your life, a box of tapes is easy to throw on the pile and forget about), and this is all that is left of my Dead tape collection:



There were more.  But for reasons both known and unknown, these are what have survived a quarter century, give or take.  At the time (the mid/late 1990's), I was more interested in getting as many Phish tapes as I could, so I never had a particularly enviable Dead collection.  There were, of course, a lot of crummy aud tapes and super hissy incomplete sbds that were given away or taped over, but I did try to save the cream of the crop... and I know that Veneta, Cornell, Freedom Hall, NYE 78 were all complete at one point, but c'est la vie.  10/14/94 was my last Dead show (and a really great Scarlet>Fire, thank you very much).  I have no clue how Garcia/Saunders 6/4/74 found its way to me, since I can't imagine it was a common tape in the pre-shn age.  Note the misdated 10/8/68 Hartbeats tape!  11/8/69 has the irritating clicking noise that Jim Wise painstakingly repaired, manually, click by click, on a home digital workstation (the story), which was the first time I had heard of such a thing being done -- oh brave new world!

Also, let's have a moment of silence for the lost art of tape filler.  The tape formerly known as 5/5/82 had the huge Mystery Train jam from 12/31/75 on the b-side, which made for an incongruous yet inexplicably satisfying juxtaposition.  Ditto 10/16/89 which had just exactly the perfect amount of space to fit the Garcia solo track from Zabriskie Point as filler.  Good filler was always the perfect comedown.  

I wrote a while ago about the GD Hour broadcast of 1/22/78 that basically changed my life, and I am most pleased to find that that one has held on.  But of course all of these were very, very special in their own way.

That's it.  B&P welcome, or your list gets mine.

Wednesday, August 24, 2022

the Wildebeest connection

Joe and Corry tossed this around for a second back in 2016, so this is no great discovery, but the discographical nerd in me needs to mark this very marginal release with a post.  I had stumbled upon this record a a few months ago while looking around Discogs for recordings that John Kahn played on.  What really caught my attention was the presence of Jimmy Warren, who played electric piano alongside organist Melvin Seals in the JGB for 15 months in 1981-1982.  $2.11 later (plus shipping), and I present: Reckless Dreams by Wildebeest.

I am curious about John Kahn spent his downtime when the Dead were on the road, since it doesn't seem like he played regularly with anyone else (did he?), so it makes sense that he would get involved with producing a local Bay Area band.  The eyebrow-raiser is that the Dead organization was involved.  Kahn brought Palo Alto's own Wildebeest into Club Front from April 1-5, 1981 to record a 5-song EP using the studio's 24-track Studer @30ips and Neve 24-track console.  I know this because it says so prominently on the back cover, even before the names of the bandmembers are given.  Kahn was credited with co-writing one song, and also played synthesizer on every track (Kahn owned an Oberheim synthesizer, not a common household item, and encouraged keyboardist Ozzie Ahlers to play the same model in the 1980 edition of the JGB).  Jimmy Warren was involved enough in the project to get a co-producer credit, and also adds a few synth parts of his own.  Betty Cantor-Jackson and John Cutler were working the boards -- and, notably, Betty is also credited along with Kahn on the record label itself.  That's a really unusual thing for any engineer, so I am inferring from this that her name had significant cachet with Deadheads even back then (remember, this was still years before anyone had heard of a Bettyboard).  Even Sue Stevens of GDP is credited on the sleeve with "logistics and planning."  So I am assuming that Kahn was calling in a favor here.  He had certainly logged plenty of hours at Club Front with Garcia, but given that this project had no direct connection to the JGB or Dead, one might assume that this happened only because Garcia must have given it the okay.

engineered by Betty Cantor-Jackson, in case you were wondering.


pardon the unintentional selfie

This may be unrelated, but I can't help noticing that Kahn also performed onstage with the Dead twice in this same time period, the only time such a thing happened: two acoustic sets at benefit shows (4/25/81 and 5/22/81), although neither was actually billed as the Grateful Dead.  The story goes that Lesh claims nobody told him about it.  That may have absolutely nothing to do with Kahn bringing a small local band into Club Front for a week, but I wonder.

This also prompts some speculation (on my part, anyway) about Club Front's function as a recording studio outside of the Dead's immediate orbit.  I don't have any sense that it was used that way.  But it certainly could have been -- and it certainly could have brought in some additional income, but the Dead's/Garcia's cashflow problems is not my area of expertise.  Placeholder for that one for now.

Oh, right: and how's the music?  It's okay for what it is.  The cover could suggest either metal or loopy psychedelia, but it's more middle-of-the-road than either: some tunes have a Heart/Pat Benetar kind of vibe, others have a more rootsy blues-rock boogie with slide guitar.  The beat goes on.  But to be fair, I am sure they sounded much better in a bar like the Keystone than at home on the record player (this less-than-rave review in the Sanford Daily appears to agree).

Ah well.  One more piece of the puzzle.  For two bucks, it was a worthy purchase.


postscript: a few words about Jimmy Warren

pic from Jake Feinberg's page, presumably a screenshot from the JGB 6/24/82 video

Until Jake Feinberg aired an interview with Jimmy Warren in 2018, practically nothing was known about him in the deadhead world besides the strong implication that he was a drug buddy of Kahn's and Garcia's.  In his fine interview, Feinberg understandably goes easy on the question of drugs.  Warren explains, in short, that he moved to Mill Valley in the late 70's with his then-girlfriend Liz Stires, met and became friends with Kahn, and would hang out at his home 8-track studio and help record demos (Warren recalls playing on the demo of the Kahn/Hunter tune "Leave the Little Girl Alone," later recorded for Run for the Roses; Liz Stires also apparently recorded several demos with Kahn and Warren).  Eventually, he was finally invited to audition for the JGB -- and Stires, as you probably know, also became one of the backup singers.  Others have implied that he was there more for the procurement of the drugs that most interested Kahn, Garcia, and Rock Scully.  No one seems to have spoken explicitly about it on the record one way or the other, and I am sure that the situation involves several stories that are both contradictory and true.  But regardless, Kahn and Warren seem to have been close for a time.  Warren also tells a nice story about how, after leaving the JGB and moving to Annapolis, John Kahn sat in at Warren's gig after a JGB show (which must have been in the wee hours of 11/6/82).  I have a hunch that Warren's role in this Wildebeest record was a mitzvah from Kahn.  But, as always, this is conjecture, and I would love to know more.