Urobouros Deedni Mublasaron (Jerry Week 2018)

Commence Jerry Week!  I eased into a bleary-eyed morning with 9/11/76 (one of the best later 70's JGB shows), but a moment of satori while listening to this next show inspired me to post:

8/13/75 is my "Barton Hall" show: an early acquisition that's cemented in my mind as the platonic ideal of what the Dead sound like.  Make Believe Ballroom '75 was in the first batch of tapes I owned as a young teenager, full of cuts but magical nevertheless, and One From the Vault was likely the first live release I bought after Live Dead and Europe 72.  I am of the opinion that this is the single best played show the band ever did and, unlike Barton Hall, it's spotless from start to finish.  You probably don't need me to tell you any of this: unlike Barton Hall, I can't recall seeing any argument over the quality of the Great American Music Hall show.

Today it occurred to me that Crazy Fingers from this show is one of the best exemplars of what makes Garcia so special both as a singer and a guitarist.  The whole show, of course, is filled with these, but what stands out about this song in particular is that it's not an expansive, extended improvisation.  His solo here is etched in the purest stone, a perfect jewel of gentle, effortless melodic invention within the four corners of the tune's structure.  The spiraling jam at the end would be taken in different directions in 1976 and beyond, but this one serves more as an extended coda and is a perfect contrast to the solo: Garcia at the center of a kaleidoscopic ensemble wave that could only have been created by the Grateful Dead.

under eternity blue

an unrelated musical event, but a good observation nonetheless

1/22/78 at 40

1/22/78

I first heard this jam when I was 15 years old.  It was broadcast on the Grateful Dead Hour which, to the extent of my adolescent ability, I think I tried to tape whenever I could (but I don't think I was very good about actually following through with this).  I have a very distinct memory of this one, however: the memory of lying in bed at night, lights out ("you've got school in the morning!"), boombox tapedeck running, headphones on, and having my mind BLOWN WIDE OPEN by this Other One>Close Encounters>St. Stephen>NFA>Around.  I can now see that it was sometime the week of May 2, 1994.  At that point in my nascent deadheaddom (deadheadness?), I was well versed in Live/Dead and Europe '72 and probably One From the Vault and had a shoebox-sized collection with some respectable tapes: but this, my goodness, this was a whole other thing.  I was already on the bus, but this was like finding a few back rows where the cool kids sat.  The excitement of the moment hasn't faded and the rush of feelings are still there on the special occasions when I revisit this show and this jam in particular (gotta start with the Terrapin, though).  Now I'm able to enunciate why: the deliriously intense segue out of Drums, the unusually extended Other One jam, the drippy Garcia solo space that climaxes with the famous Close Encounters quote, the spot-on perfectly timed segue into St. Stephen, that wild 'n wooly early '78 guitar tone, the spotless tape quality -- you know, you've heard it -- but I wasn't hearing any of that when I was 15.  What I was hearing is best summed up by this bit from Nick Paumgarten's 2012 New Yorker article on the band (one of the best single pieces of writing I've read about them), writing about the culture of tape collecting:

"Each [tape] had a character and odor of its own, a terroir. Some combination of the era, the lineup, the set list, the sound system, the recording apparatus, its positioning in the hall, the recorder’s sonic bias, the chain of custody, and, yes, the actual performance would render up a sonic aura that could be unique. Jerry Garcia claimed to be a synesthete—he said that he perceived sound as color. Somehow, I and others came to perceive various recordings, if not as colors, as having distinct odors or auras."

That’s the extra something this show will always have for me.  I can smell it.  I remember exactly what I imagined, laying there in dark, that the stage must have looked like: small stage, band soaked in sweat, air thick with smoke, amps piled high with beer bottles, roaches, cigarette stubs, crowd pressed right up to the band's knees.  I'm sure that is not at all what the stage actually looked like (in hindsight, I'm sure I had no idea that McArthur Court was a college gynanisum), but it's what it sounded like to me.  I had never heard anything so immediately, viscerally transporting.  Or maybe, probably, I had.  I must have.  I remember a lot of musical moments in many songs that made me jump and holler as a younger kid, but none of them stand out as vividly over 20 years later -- I remember that some serious flying leaps used to happen during the Eleven>Lovelight transition on Live/Dead, but I don't have any memory of feeling like I was standing there actually watching it.  Almost exactly six years later, I heard another show from this period for the first time, one that came to nearly equal this one in my personal canon, 2/5/78 (thanks Dick!)  But it didn't have that same terroir. 

May 1994 means that I already actually seen the band in person, once (3/27/94, at Nassau Coliseum).  This departs from all kinds of standard narratives about the band, but I don't remember being moved nearly as much by the show.  It was good, I treasure the memory of it, and I had fun -- I mean it was 1994, but I didn't (and still don't) think it was a bad show, given the circumstances (the Dew, man, the Dew!).  I'm sure I felt lot more strongly about it at the time.  But I was also 15, too dorky to catch more than a contact buzz, I stayed in my seat for most of the show, and I was pretty sleepy by the end of it (and, lest you think I was high out of my mind during that 1/22/78 epiphany: I assure you I was not).  While it seems lame in some regard to have more affinity for hearing a tape than for seeing an actual live performance, that's the way it's sorted itself in my memory. 

Anyways, I know what I'm doing tonight.  I recommend you do the same.

PS. Also, can you think of many post-77 shows where the major heavy-duty jamming all happens after the drum solo?  There are a few, but I can't think of very many.

PPS. The next week’s GDH episode was the Dancin'>Franklin’s from 10/27/79.  That and 1/22/78 made for a 100 min cassette that was pretty potent, to say the least.

Great American *Music* Band: loose threads

Since the last post was long enough, I figured I'd dump the rest of what I had to say here.

first: some history

It turns out that there was already as detailed a history of this group as any, hiding in plain sight in the liner notes to the Grisman's wonderful collection DGQ20: A Twenty-Year Retrospective 1976-1996 by Pamela Abramson.  I will take the liberty of quoting it in full here, with some additional notes.

The acoustic revolution that coincided with the advent of the David Grisman Quintet in 1976 wasn't planned, nor was it accidental.  New ideas had been brewing in the heads of creative bluegrass and folk musicians throughout the late 50's and early 60's, extensions of those original radical folk musical concepts of Bill Monroe and Earl Scruggs, who were certainly radical when they altered the face of old-time string band music in America.  Blues and jazz had influenced bluegrass musicians, as European classical traditions had influenced black music, but the time was ripe for even more ingredients to be tossed into the melting pot of contemporary American roots music.

In 1974 mandolinist David Grisman and violinist Richard Greene, with Jerry Garcia, Taj Mahal and others, formed a loose aggregation called the Great American Music Band. [1]  The concept was simple: sophisticated folk and bluegrass instrumentalists creating a format to play and improvise without vocals.  The repertoire would draw on varied sources: traditional fiddle tunes, swing tunes from the Hot Club of France, and music from great American composers Bill Monroe, Fats Waller, and Duke Ellington.  David Grisman had also been writing music, mostly bluegrass style mandolin tunes, patterned after those of his heroes Monroe, Frank Wakefield and others.  Now, with this new vehicle, David started composing pieces with greater scope and a more personal stamp; "dawg" music had come into being.  By the end of the year, Grisman and Greene had settled in with their own band which included guitarists John Carlini and Ellen Kearney [2], with bassist Joe Carroll.  The group generated excitement opening shows for many headliners, from Bill Monroe and Maria Muldaur to the Grateful Dead.  By the spring of 1975 Greene had left the band to work as a sideman for Loggins and Messina. [3]  Dawg remained with a bunch of newly-composed tunes, a bass player and -- most importantly -- a concept.  Soon David's mandolin protege Todd Phillips was jamming with his teacher and Joe Carroll on Dawg's back porch.  One day Todd brought a friend, fledging fiddler Darol Anger, who soon became a regular dawgmaniac as well.  With Carlini touring with the Ice Capades, and Kearney off somewhere else, the new ensemble rehearsed without a guitarist.

In the spring of 1975, Tony Rice was leading his own flatpicking revolution as guitarist with J.D. Crowe's New South, arguably the finest bluegrass band of its time.  Tony met Dawg early one morning in Washington, D.C. after they had both arrived to play on banjoist Bill Keith's first solo recording project.  Rice was curious about the music of the Great American Music Band and, upon hearing a tape, expressed great interest in playing this new music.  By October, he had decided to leave Kentucky, move to California and play guitar at David's down-home rehearsals. [4]  He also named the band the David Grisman Quintet.  With more tunes coming all the time, two mandolins, bass, fiddle and the world's greatest flatpicker, the DGQ was born. [5]

 [1]  So there’s the official name for posterity, I suppose.  I opted for Great American String Band in the prior post, since that was how they were billed for the June ’74 shows.  Notice there's no mention here of David Nichtern at all, which I infer to mean that his involvement wasn't central to the group’s concept… but I wonder what he would say about it.  By November 1974, at any rate, he was leading his own band: http://www.concertvault.com/david-nichtern/record-plant-november-09-1974.html

[2] Ellen Kearney, interestingly, has been noted as sitting in with the Garcia/Saunders band at the Bottom Line in July 1974, joining Maria Muldaur on vocals.  I can only hear Muldaur’s vocals on the circulating recordings, but that doesn't mean Kearney wasn't there.  She recorded and performed for a few years with Muldaur, including on her hit debut album (also with Nichtern, Grisman, Greene, etc), then seems to have dropped off the professional music scene a few years later and left California to focus on family.  Here's an article that fills in some biographical details about her: what little I've found about her seems to downplay her guitar playing, but she must have had some serious chops!

[edit, Aug '19] Just stumbled upon this at JGMF: the GAMB opened for Maria Muldaur (who's backing band was the Garcia/Saunders group!) at the Berkeley Community Theater on 10/12/74.  The lineup was exactly as described here: Grisman, Greene, Ellen Kearney, John Carlini, and Joe Carroll (plus Martin Fierro guesting for one number!).  David Nichtern's own group was also on the bill, so evidently there was no bad blood.

Also, a thread at the mandolincafe forum has some interesting responses that fill in some more specifics about the early days of the GAMB/DGQ.  I see some mention of tapes of the 1975-era GAMB, so this stuff is out there somewhere.

[3] Corry has a history of Richard Greene's early career here:
http://hooterollin.blogspot.com/2013/10/richard-greene-violin-career-snapshot.html
As busy as he may have been, he did continue to work with Grisman; he toured along with the DGQ in Japan in 1976, for example.

[4]  So here’s a fascinating moment of synchronicity, found on the the complete Pizza Tapes (Extra Large Edition) release, in the first track:

Grisman: It’s a trip seeing you guys together. 

Tony Rice: Should have happened a long time ago.

Grisman: Well, the funny thing, y’know, I was telling Jerry before, the day I came to get you at the airport, the first time you came out here, I guess the first time we got together out here, I ran into Jerry earlier that day and we were jamming at my house and then—

Rice: —then you had to pick me up at the airport— 

Grisman: —and then I had to pick you up, and that’s the last I played with Jerry for a bit, 17 years.

Um, wow.  Even if that’s not 100% accurate, it does indicate that Garcia and Grisman remained casually connected until well into 1975, around one year after Garcia left the GASB.  Dunno how that fits/contradicts any other narratives about their partnership, but there ya go.

[edit, Oct '19] Rereading an older post of Corry's pointed me back to the liner notes of the original Pizza Tapes release (the single cd), where Grisman relates:

It was a sunny day in August, 1975, when I ran into Garcia in downtown Mill Valley.  I was rounding up refreshments for a jam session that was in progress at my place with members of my original band -- bassist Joe Carroll, mandolinist Todd Phillips and fiddler Darol Anger.  We were lacking a guitar picker that afternoon and I invited Jerry over to pick a few tunes.  He followed me back to the house and we had a good old time.  A few hours later we parted company and I drove out to the airport to pick up another guitarist who was just arriving to hang out and rehearse with us -- Tony Rice, who would soon move into my basement and help us form the first DGQ.  As it turned out, it didn't see Jerry again for 13 years!

[5] a later note in DGQ20 also indicates that the band rehearsed for four months prior to their Jan 31, 1976 debut performance.


Also, "fledging fiddler Darol Anger" is my new favorite tongue twister.



second: some tunes

I really like how those notes lay out Grisman’s musical vision very clearly while locating it within a broader 20th century tradition of blending different folk genres with more "sophisticated" or "cultured" traditions.  So, in that spirit, here are some specifics about the band’s repertoire circa mid-1974, broken down by genre.  I assume that they didn't have too many other tunes under their belt, since the setlists are fairly repetitive and they were playing Swing '42 twice each night.

traditional/old-time fiddle tunes:

• Colored Aristocracy - info 
• Methodist Preacher (Bill Monroe/trad) -- played mostly as a fiddle/mandolin duet; info 
• Billy in the Lowgrounds (trad/Irish) --  played mostly as a fiddle/banjo duet.  OAITW also played this.  Note that Greene introduces Garcia as "Earl Spud," probably joking on Earl Scruggs' name (Scruggs also recorded this song).

country/bluegrass originals

• Lonesome Moonlight Waltz (Bill Monroe) -- a classic bluegrass instrumental, which the DGQ continued to perform.
• Maiden's Prayer (aka "Virgin's Lament") (Bob Wills/trad) -- this was also recorded by Buck Owens' Buckaroos featuring the great Don Rich, a major Garcia influence.
• Bud's Bounce (Bud Isaacs) [thanks to anon commenter for the correction!] -- a popular country pedal steel instrumental.  It's a pity Garcia didn't break out the old Zane Beck!

Both Bob Wills and "Bud's Bounce," incidentally, could be classified as western swing, which was arguably a stylistic precedent of dawg music (albeit electric).

• Drink Up and Go Home (trad/Freddie Hart) -- deaddisc.  An outlier vocal tune; Garcia sang this in his pre-GD days, once with the acoustic GD in 1970, and with Garcia/Grisman.

David Grisman "dawg music" originals:

• Cedar Hill (Grisman) -- DGQ20 notes this was Grisman's first mandolin composition, written in 1963, and was performed at the first DGQ concert in Jan 1976. OAITW performed this, as have other groups: deaddisc.
• Dawg's Bull (Grisman) -- deaddisc 
• Dawg's Rag (Grisman) -- deaddisc

David Nichtern originals:

• I'll Be a Gambler If You Deal the Cards (Nichtern) -- vocal
• My Plastic Banana Is Not Stupid (Nichtern) -- instrumental.  Note that Tony Rice recorded this tune as "Plastic Banana" on his s/t Rounder Records album in 1977
• Midnight at the Oasis (Nichtern) -- Maria Muldaur's breakout hit and Nichtern's claim to fame, recorded by many artists over the decades.  It was played at a handful of earlier GAMB gigs with Muldaur sitting in.

Django Reinhardt and 20's-30's jazz standards:
There's only one actual Reinhardt original here, but most of these were recorded by the Hot Club and are associated by many with Django:

• Swing '42 (Reinhardt)
• Limehouse Blues (Braham/Furber) -- a 1920's showtune that became a standard recorded by many, many jazz musicians, including Django.  info 
• Sheik of Araby (Snyder/Smith/Wheeler) -- info
• Sweet Georgia Brown (Bernie/Pinkard) -- info 
• Russian Lullaby (Irving Berlin) -- via Argentinian guitarist Oscar Alemán, an old favorite of Garcia's.  Grisman's Acoustic Disc label released a collection of Alemán's recordings, which I believe was the first (and only?) American issue of his work.  Many jazz musicians have played it since; notably, John Coltrane recorded it on Soultrane (1958), a record that Garcia admired.   I don't believe Django ever recorded this.

Jerry Week 2016

Commence Garcia Week!  There's another reason to celebrate Aug 1 as well:

Garcia: …And on my 15th birthday my mother gave me an accordion.  I looked at this accordion and I said, “God, I don’t want this accordion, I want an electric guitar.”  So we took it down to a pawn shop and I got this little Danelectro, an electric guitar with a tiny little amplifier and man, I was just in heaven.  Everything!  I stopped everything I was doing at the time[…]

Reich: Can I ask for the date?

 Garcia: August 1st — let’s see, I was born in ’42 — Christ, man, arithmetic, school, I was 15 — ’57.  Yeah, ’57, there you go, it was a good year, Chuck Berry, all that stuff.

Reich: I wanted to get an historic date like that.
 

Garcia: Yeah, well that’s what it was, August 1st, 1957, I got my first guitar.

- Garcia: A Signpost to New Space, 1971.

July 1976: Orpheum Theatre

edit: I just noticed now (6/9) that there was a post about this run and the Orpheum at lostlivedead a month ago, so I've amended some of the info below.

This is a repost of my reviews that were posted on a now-defunct forum.  There was some more discussion between myself and others involved, but I figured now would be a good time to resurrect these and clean them up somewhat.  

I'm elated over the announcement that an upcoming Dave's Picks is going to be 7/17/76 at the Orpheum Theatre in San Francisco.  It's one of my favorite shows, but one that I suspected would never actually be picked for a release: what I like about it feels even more personal and introverted than what I like about other favorite shows, and besides, the next night, 7/18, seems like a far, far more popular choice among deadheads, particularly deadheads who don't like 1976.  Which, from what I gather, is a lot of them.

I won't go so far as to say that 1976 is the band's most polarizing year among fans, but it has enough qualities that make it feel like their most sui generis period.  The contrast between it and its neighboring years is striking: the Dead were a very different band in many ways in 1974, and they had yet to attain the polished, muscular grooming of 1977 (well, as groomed as the Dead ever got, anyway).  Many others have covered this, so I'll spare the explanations, but one standard line is that they needed time to readjust to Hart's return to the band.  While true, I've never fully bought that as the primary reason for the uniqueness of the "1976 sound."  Whereas 1974 had an extroverted, pushed-to-the-limit style of improvisation and a quicksilver responsiveness (helped, to be sure, by having one drummer), most of 1976 feels almost chastened and introspective by comparison.  "Exploratory" is an overused adjective in Dead-dom (guilty!), but 1976 feels like the most appropriate place to use it: a lot of their improvisations do really feel like they're actually exploring something: not so much bravely plowing forward to uncharted spaces, but taking some time to root around in the corners of spaces already charted, maybe now with a more reflective frame of mind.  To my ears, this particular feeling or mood dominates more than almost any other year.  It's like you're listening more to 1976 first, and a particular individual song second.

At any rate, they hit the road in June 1976 for a tour that was different in nearly every way possible, then finally took the stage in their hometown for the first time in 9 1/2 months, a week after the country's bicentennial (apparently a free concert in Golden Gate Park was rumored).  I'm sure the connected local heads had a sense of what to expect, but I really wonder the average fan thought of all this.  I shall, however, limit my speculation and focus on the music itself.  This run of shows, in short, deserves a full-scale box set release, and the happy news that 7/17/76 (and most of 7/16) is coming our way in high quality is only slightly shaded by the fact that we'll probably never get the rest.  Maybe, at least, some upgrades will come leaking through the usual channels?  I sure hope so.  The currently circulating sbds of 7/12-7/17 don't sound terrible, but they don't sound great, either.  7/18 was broadcast (locally on KSAN and nationally via the King Biscuit Flower Hour) and has always circulated in good quality.  Bob Menke taped every other night and his recordings are very good, but I prefer the thicker, more viscous sound of the sbd recordings.
 
side note: um, the Orpheum?  Any insight from the more knowledgeable heads as to why the band played here?  I know they'd scrapped much of the Wall of Sound and had been touring smaller venues, so was Winterland suddenly too big?  Seems unlikely.  The JGB played a wonderful concert there on 5/21 (released as Don't Let Go) and the Dead apparently rehearsed there a bit for their June tour, so there seems to have been a short flurry of activity, but that was it until Garcia played a string of shows there in 1988-89.

edit: Corry has answered all of these questions and more...

 
the soundcheck
edit: Corry convincingly argues that this video isn't actually from 7/12/76 or anytime from this run, but from the pre-tour rehearsals in May.  But what the heck:
The week begins with an hour-long video tape of the band rehearsing (the audio sounds like it's sourced from the video), apparently on the afternoon of the first show.  As you'd expect, it's more a curiosity than an inspiring listen, but still worth visiting once.  Besides a long stretch of working through the bridge of Stella Blue, there's very little "work" on this tape, just a string of nearly complete performances with few interruptions: a workmanlike Dancin', a brisk, chipper TLEO, two runs through The Music Never Stopped, and then the highlight, a great, flowering Eyes of the World with the standard '76 arrangement of a very long intro jam and and (presumably) very little at the end: the tape cuts after the last verse, unfortunately.


night one: 7/12/76
https://archive.org/details/gd1976-07-12.sbd.unknown.10362.sbeok.shnf

The opening night in their hometown, and they start off on the right foot, full of energy and in a tight groove.  A great Music Never Stopped opener (an appropriate choice for their first official home gig in a year and a half!), then BEWomen and Cassidy make a great opening trio, although it doesn't sound like they're ready to push the boundaries much.  Garcia's playing in each is mercurial, creative, and energetic, but also very concise: these are all little gems, but may disappoint anyone looking for the boys to just cut loose and wail.  Listen closely, though, and you'll hear kinds of great left-field little fills and solos cut from fresh cloth. I especially love that little moment of zen in the first TMNS jam.  Bob breaks out Minglewood for the first time since 1971 in a cool, funky arrangement that was dropped by the fall; but listen to Phil going to town on this!  Typical for '76, there's a questionable setlist call of three slow numbers in a row (Candyman/LLRain/Row Jimmy), but take some time to revel in how nice the vocals sound.  Donna really shines in a small room with good acoustics and decent monitors, and the interplay between her and Bob is noticeably more present than in 72-74: there's this great moment in LLRain when he sings, "you were listening to a fight," then emphasizes, "that's right" and she sweetly replies, "yeah."  It's a little detail, but one that makes a real difference.  (serendipity! I just noticed this excellent and long, long overdue post on Donna at lostlivedead.  Hear hear!)

Sugaree is a laid back kick-off for the 2nd set, but you can feel them digging into the groove and seeing what happens when they take the scenic route through the song.  After Bob's nightly Samson, they settle down into a very good Help>Slip>Franklin's, fairly tight (minus that intro) and full of the exploratory playing with dynamics mentioned above -- I can't help but think that a lot of fans seeing this in person would have been confused or underwhelmed (especially if their last experience seeing the Dead was in 1974!), but on tape the subtleties really glisten.  Franklin's pops along with its trademark mellow bounce and some fine Garcia soloing.  Dancing in the Streets is only decent -- even after a month on the road, they don't seem to have figured out how to reliably make this soar yet -- but the following Wharf Rat is excellent, with great vocals and a lovely outro jam that hints at the golden summer glory to come later in the week.  A brief Drums>Wheel>Around and US Blues wrap it all up.

A fine but not outstanding show, and a nice relaxed start to the week.  There's definitely less of a jubilant "welcome home" feel and more of a low key, warming-up/getting-everything-just-exactly-perfect feel to this show, and the real magic was still to come. 

Orpheum rehearsals, Ed Perlstein

night two: 7/13/76
http://www.archive.org/details/gd76-07-13.sbd.vernon.18480.sbeok.shnf

Everyone says they'll take quality over quantity, but the length of shorter sets is such a standard deadhead complaint that I wonder sometimes.  Many folks want a 3+ hour feast rather small portions of gourmet delicacies.  But even though we get barely an hour of music to start with, I remember this night's first set more fondly than almost all of 7/12 as a whole.  This was the breakout for Half Step (last played 10/20/74; it was last song they played that night, actually, before AWBYGN) and much like Sugaree, you can hear them testing how far to extend it and where.  They don't reach the pinnacles that versions from the following years shoot for, but it doesn't seem like they're trying to, either.  Once again, the M.O. is to find the hidden backroads in these tunes and see where they go.  I'm absolutely in love by the time Peggy-O comes around with it's wonderful slow roll and two Garcia solos.  Later versions have a punchier groove to them, but there's an appealing lazy feel to this that fits the back-porch vibe of the song perfectly.  The meat of the set is nearly 30 minutes of Crazy Fingers>Let it Grow, one of the year's unique combinations that works perfectly.  76 was really the only year they took Crazy Fingers as far as they could, and nearly every version is worth hearing.  Might as Well gets its hometown debut before the break.

The second set opens with another TMNS, longer, looser, and more jammed than the previous night.  Roses and High Time glisten as usual, particularly High Time, another treat for the crowd (not heard in San Fran since April 1970).  I like how they keep this sweet and low compared to some of the 77 versions, which to me can sometimes sound a little shrill (I! was! losing! time!) and almost melodramatic.  Then, if the old-timers weren't satisfied, they certainly get what they've been waiting for with the return of St. Stephen to the west coast (last played in SF on 8/19/70!).  This has great energy and the jam jumps right away into a NFA jam with a bouncy, calypso-ish feel to it.  Heads up for some great Fender Rhodes from Keith, who even takes a little solo.  I really liked this jam, which lands in NFA, keeps jamming, tapers down to a quick little Drums back into Stephen.  Sugar Magnolia breaks off for a beautiful Stella Blue, of all things; a little slippery at first, but with a gorgeous solo at the end, then back to SSDD.  Maybe to compensate for the short sets, we get a long Dancin' encore, sounding already much better than the night before.  Garcia even gets on the wahwah for a bit at the end.  Great encore!  Great show!  Folks will naturally complain about the length, but there's really no down spots in this one at all.


night three: 7/14/76
http://www.archive.org/details/gd76-07-14.sbd.vernon.18594.sbeok.shnf

The first set tonight is well done, but most of it doesn't do much to grab my attention.  There's a questionable positioning of a late first set Ship of Fools, but the ending jam more than makes up for all of it, a 35 minutes Playin>Wheel>Playin sandwich.  The first jam stays relatively close the surface before breaking for Drums, then a fine Wheel, whose jam quickly shifts back into a cool Playin' groove.  They drift off into a very long, deep Space that starts pretty sparse, but gets more involved and intense  after a good low-end Phil rattling, then culminates in a very long, wonderfully slow swim back to the Reprise.  It's not as moving a first set as the shorter but much sweeter 7/13, but not at all bad.

The second set, however, is one of the more underrated sets of the year, and given the eye-popping, unique jam segment, I'm surprised more folks haven't happened upon it.  BEWomen was a very rare opener, but I'll take it anyday.  Let it Grow kicks off the jam, one of the better '76 versions, and I believe the only one that dispenses with the drum interlude.  They take the end jam down a nice quiet place, then up into an Eyes of the World that zings along with that perfect elastic snap.  Unfortunately, most of the whole song is missing from the sbd, though Menke's aud makes for a fine patch.  The ending dissolves into maybe two minutes of a quiet, floating jam that's mostly just Garcia completely solo, an early incarnation of the solo theme he played a few times in May '77 that served as a prelude Wharf Rat, and that's what it does here.  Wharf Rat is a soft, gentle version and winds down without much fanfare, but then the band throws a sucker punch with the Other One, another hometown first (and the first one of '76, though on 6/29/76, they got pretty close to it).  Garcia got on slide for the tail end of Wharf Rat and even starts off the Other One with a little bottleneck.  Nice!  Things never get too wild, certainly nothing like 7/17's Other One, but this one simmers along with a quiet intensity that I quite like.  Phil grabs the spotlight for a quick solo at the end, setting up one more unique transition into the Music Never Stopped.  Whoa!  No one thing about this segment really jumps out like a thunderbolt, but taken as a whole, this exemplifies some of the best of the year: everything that makes 76 special put together in a one-time only package.  I say it's must-hear stuff, well worth an hour for the many folks who appear to have missed it.

the night off:I would hope that both the band and the fans all got a good night's rest, but I wonder if any folks took the night off to go see Robert Hunter's short-lived band Roadhog playing at the Shady Grove in the Haight?  There's no digitally circulating tape (edit: Corry says there's a Jerry Moore recording?), but there is a recording of the band from two weeks later if you're curious:
https://archive.org/details/rh1976-07-30.83233.AUD.flac16

Ed Perlstein

night four: 7/16/76
http://www.archive.org/details/gd76-07-16.set1aud-set2sbd.miller.23569.sbeok.shnf

The Dave's Picks release will be augmented by almost all of 7/16, whose first set is the only set of the run that currently circulates only as an aud tape.  Allowing for differences in quality, this first set stills comes across as nearly ideal for the year.  They must have all gotten a good night's sleep on the night off, because this one seems to have an extra energetic kick -- it's hard to say for sure, but they seem to be pushing a little harder and stretching a little further on stuff like Cassidy, TMNS, and an especially nice bonus Scarlet to close the nearly 80 minute set.  Excellent stuff!

Playing in the Band opens the second set, which is the first of many remarkable things about the next 66 minutes.  Framing a larger, nearly set-length jam segment with both ends of Playing in the Band eventually became a standard practice, but at this point it was still quite rare.  The main song itself has a strong start, but to my ears it drifts away into a fairly nondescript Playin' jam for the first few minutes.  It starts to drift into space, but Lesh pulls it back together with a bassline that's reminiscent of Stronger Than Dirt, but also not too far removed from his 72-74 era nameless "jazz theme."  Labeling this "Stronger Than Dirt" seems like a stretch, but the resemblance is there.  Garcia doesn't seem particularly interested at first, but as he brightens up, the jam starts to cohere more fully.  There's some stunning Jerry/Phil/Keith interplay before the end as Phil cues different chord changes.  Pretty hot stuff!  Jerry gets out his slide and leads the way into Cosmic Charlie, another big moment for the older hometown heads.  Honestly, I've never been all that moved by this tune, either in the 60's or in in '76, but they certainly nail this one.  Here, though, Bob makes a questionable call with yet another Samson.  There's a moment's pause, then they rise back momentarily to the Playin' jam.  Bob, however, seems to have made the faux pas of needing to retune in mid-jam.  Rather than disrupt the flow, they opt for a very quiet space jam, Jerry playing flurries of harmonics either to cover Bobby's tuning or maybe to retune a little himself.  I find myself torn: couldn't they have just taken a break and let the drummers do their thing?  does this disrupt the flow of an otherwise interestingly structured jam, or is it a clever, on-the-fly adjustment?  I've loved it in the past, but this last time through I wasn't convinced.  From here, Bob nudges into the Spanish Jam theme, which I believe is its only appearance between 1974 and Brent's entry in 1979.  Again, it spills back into the Playing/Stronger Than Dirt jam and, amazingly, they're able to immediately find their way back to the same space they were in two songs prior.  Even with a Drums break, they're able to keep the deep groove going on through the Wheel and a particularly beguiling Playin Reprise, and Bob ties it off with Around, maybe thinking that the set was done.

This Playing in the Band sequence is remarkable for a number of reasons, but, unfortunately for me, musically it never quite adds up to something truly special.  There are some really breathtaking moments of brilliance that the band almost unearths by accident, but the meat of the jam just doesn't really get me going.  Those moments of brilliance, however, are the first glimmers of the x-factor that lift the next two nights to their respective ecstatic heights.  Also interesting is that, in this case, the entire jam has a notable lack of Garcia lead vocal tunes.  Cosmic Charlie and The Wheel are his songs, of course, but they strike me more as ensemble performances.  For that reason, maybe, the set keeps going.  After some lengthy tuning, Jerry gets to sing his only lead vocal of the set, a lovely High Time that nevertheless feels a little out of place.  They take another beak to fix the drums, during which Phil wishes a mock happy birthday to Bill Graham, before they close with Graham's favorite Dead tune, Sugar Magnolia.  Another so-so US Blues encores for the second time.

I go back and forth on the merits of this jam.  The first set is great and I'll be glad to hear the sbd on the new release.  I'll certainly revisit the second set, too, but it's ranked behind 7/13's 1st set and 7/14's jam in my mind, and certainly isn't at the level of the next two nights.


night five: 7/17/76
http://www.archive.org/details/gd1976-07-17.mtx.chappell.sb25.95734.flac16
http://www.archive.org/details/gd1976-07-17.sbd.fricker-fix.tetzeli.34708.sbefail.flac16

I know I'm reading too much into this one, but Promised Land's travelogue to California is almost a subconscious announcement, "okay, we're home now" to the crowd, signaling a special night to come.  Full disclosure: I have listened to this show more than any other from this run (more than the more famous 7/18), and it's a treasured personal favorite of mine.  The magic starts with Half Step, another a low-key version that stands out for the delicate, lovely interplay between Garcia and Keith during the jam.  Mama Tried, Deal, and Minglewood (again, special note for this short-lived slower, funkier arrangement) all keep it moving in the right direction, then we hit highlight #2, a perfect, slow, soulful Peggy-O.  Big River is a good nudge, but Garcia is already following that fat summer sun and unleashes a wonderful Sugaree.  Part of the smoothness is a result of the drummers easing back and letting Keith and Garcia really drive the groove.  And was this the first time he fans/scrubs the climax as he would do so often in 77 and beyond?  It looks incongruous on paper, but the JBG closer feels like just what's called for.  The opening/closing Chuck Berry combo wasn't unheard of, but it's a nice surprising kick that sets us up for what's to come.

For whatever reason, Donna never makes it back onstage for the second set.  Given my love for her singing in 76, I still can't say I miss her particularly here, since the vocals aren't what stand out about this set.  7/17's jam may not look as outrageous as 7/16's.  It may not twist and turn unexpected corners, but as much as 7/16 seems to exemplify Bob's uniquely twisting turning approach, 7/17 is all Garcia and that sweet, sun-baked, flowing groove.  He starts it off with Comes a Time, a tune we would expect to hear at the end of a set-long jam like this, not at the beginning.  This Comes a Time, though, unrolls before us as the song sweetly fades way, leaving only that beautiful outro.  Why didn't they ever repeat this?  Why did they never again squeeze more than a minute or two out of this jam, and what inspired them to stretch this one as far as they do?  It's not as emotionally charged as other famously beautiful moments like 2/18/71; rather, it just plants itself on that cosmic back-porch of neverending summer evenings and pops open a cold one (in a rocking chair right next to the 6/23/74 Ship jam).  Seeds of future songs start to sprout from this fertile soil: I hear Eyes for a sec, but the Other One wins out.  After a quick minute of drums, they begin in earnest, jamming the Other One with a surprisingly aggressive feel, and jumping fairly early into a longer space.  This, paradoxically, is the darkest they got during the whole run, tucked in the heart of their warmest jam.  Ain't that just the way? 

Space gets noisy, but nothing too crazy, but then they find their way back into a beautiful jam and this amazing slooow transition into Eyes of the World.  This is one of my favorite moments of the whole run, and maybe of the whole year, actually.  Just listen to these few minutes, listen to how subtle everyone's individual transitions are.  Listen to Keith's amazing Rhodes sound, too (how did he get that sound, btw? is it a Leslie speaker?).  Eyes itself crackles and glows in prime style, but this is one of the only versions of the year to feature any substantial jamming after the last verse.  It sounds like Keith returns to a vamp he was playing with during the previous night's Stronger Than Dirt jam, but Phil is definitely still rooted in Eyes, and between the two of them it almost sounds like a half-forgotten variation on the 73-74 Eyes jam.  It peps up towards the end and sounds like it's headed for GDTRFB, but Jerry takes a quick left and pulls the Other One back in for the second verse before turning right back around and zipping into GDTRFB for real.  A bombastic, joyful ending to a most enjoyable sequence, and One More Saturday Night is a preferred Bobby closer for me (and yes, it was a Saturday), so I'm left smiling.  Nothing missing, nothing extraneous.  An absolutely ideal second set.

The usual US Blues encore seems like a pretty paltry offering after all that, but they're not done yet.  They had already played a few standalone Not Fade Away encores that year, so it's not a total surprise, but after the concentrated brilliance of that jam, you'd think they would be ready to call it a night.  And, to be honest, they do sound a little drained as they wind across 14 minutes of this, but it's involved and creative enough to make it a memorable encore for a very memorable show.

This is one of my very favorites, like I said, and one of those Dead sets I'd put above most others.  For a much less gushing review, I direct you to http://www.deadlistening.com/2008/02/1976-july-17-orpheum-theatre-san.html

Ed Perlstein

night six: 7/18/76
http://www.archive.org/details/gd76-07-18.sbd.bertha.14838.sbeok.shnf
https://archive.org/details/gd1976-07-18.pre-fm.kbfh.berger.107832.flac16

By this point, the band was certainly on top of their game.  They don't, maybe surprisingly, sound all that tired or worn out, but it does feel like they're maybe a tad overly conscious of the radio broadcast.  The opening Half Step is a well executed version and probably "better" for many folks than 7/17 in terms of excitement, but to me it seems like they're playing it pretty safe.  The first few songs have that feel, actually.  Scarlet Begonias is the highlight of the set for me, with a long, sweet jam that builds and crests naturally -- a great version, and one of many fine 1976 Scarlets that tend to be overlooked.  The second half of the set kind of slumps for me, personally, with a lackadaisical LLRain-Jed-Loser stretch, though the Music that ends it is probably the best one of the whole run.

A strong Might as Well starts the second, but the Samson and Candyman feel a bit like unnecessary finger food before the main course.  Lazy>Supplication has its usual gooey center that the band work into a hot jam, and Bobby wastes no time in leading the charge into a breakneck Let it Grow.  It's not as hot as 7/14, but still a smoker.  The drums break sounds more juiced up and energized, but the second jam already sounds like they're anticipating the jam to come.  That's usually a good sign, in my book, and this LIG drifts into a smooth, pretty, floating jam for a few minutes that sounds like it could be… I mean it doesn't sound exactly, but… well, I mean they hadn't played it that tour, and the last one was 10/18/74, so it could have been possible, but… is that it? … If/when an aud of this part ever surfaces, I'll bet whatever you want that every meathead in the place was hollering DARK STAR! as loud as he could.  Nope.  It's a pretty spectacular transition to a pretty titanic Wharf Rat.  After a very strong reading, the last three minutes are given over to another Jerry/Keith night flight.  These always are breathtaking little jams in my mind, and Jerry really does us right in this one.  He soars higher and higher, finally climaxing by cascading into the Other One theme, then dropping out for a few seconds for the drummers to properly set it up.  This Other One certainly isn't the ride that the previous night's was, but the energy is right.  Phil sets up Stella, Jerry's not having it, they do the push & pull for a minute, and St. Stephen it is.  Am I being curmudgeonly, or does it feel a little like this Stephen>NFA sandwich was an obligatory one?  It's not as fresh sounding as 7/13's return celebration, but it's still a pretty slinky NFA jam, and the transition back to Stephen almost falls apart for whatever reason.  Garcia throws another curveball with the Wheel with some nice slide on the outro, then Phil abruptly rolls it back into the Other One for a quick return to the second verse for symmetry's sake, then the final kiss goodnight.  This right here is exactly what we want in a Stella Blue, that ideal moment of silent purity, those pinpoint stars that Jerry dots the sky with at the end.  He's most definitely painting the skyline tonight.  Gorgeous, gorgeous.  One of my very favorites, actually.

Everyone gets one final group-hug footstomp through Sugar Mags and one last shoo out the door with JBG.  And so ends a week with the hometown heroes, returned from exile.

Upon reflection, this was a most impressive jam, not least because of it's length (nearly 80 minutes).  Given the setlist, it's almost strange that the most magical parts of it are centered around the Wharf Rat and, while none of it feels like an afterthought, it does feel somewhat tossed together towards the end.  Bonus points for finishing that Other One, though, and for spinning out such a long jam for the radio broadcast.  I'm sure everyone taping at home must have been scratching their heads (and no doubt gnashing their teeth about where to flip!).  Compared with most of the rest of the year, it's a top drawer set.  I'd say that for the run, it definitely takes 7/16's equally eye-popping jam.

7/17, though… man.  7/17…

12/6/73: "I need water, Jerry!"

https://archive.org/details/gd1973-12-06.132361.sbd.miller.flac16

I’m a day late for a TDIH celebration of this one, but I just finished a big term paper and am treating myself to a little Monday night trip around the event horizon.  I was thinking about what I could possibly write about it, when I remembered that I already did five years ago.  Whoa.  lightintoashes plucked this from a defunct GD forum and was nice enough to save it at his blog.  I still stand by every word of it.

I don’t know that much more is needed.  I think this show is one of the very upper echelon shows, very likely in the Top 10 of all time.  It didn’t dawn on me until just now how the second set must be one of the most Jerry-heavy sets ever: Bob just gets two country tunes and Sugar Mags, while Jerry has the Dark Star>Eyes>Stella, a titanic HCSunshine, and a Ramble On Rose for good measure.  I also noticed for the first time that there’s this one dude in the crowd screaming, “I need water! Jerry, give me some water!” over and over after Stella Blue.  Where’s a Venusian Red Cross recruiter when you need one?

That's all.

Jerry Week 2015

I grew up outside of New York City [edit: my mother would kill me if she heard me refer to it as New York City.  Sorry, mom!], where Columbia University's WKCR-FM was renowned for its 24-or-more-hour birthday broadcasts of jazz legends -- I have particularly fond youthful memories of July 4th weekend, which meant 48 hours of Louis Armstrong alternated with 12 hours of The Twilight Zone on WPIX Channel 11 -- so something about the idea of marking left-of-center cultural icons with huge marathon celebrations has been hardwired into me.  Given all that, the idea that Jerry Garcia gets a whole 9-day week among the faithful just makes me happy.

I'm getting things started with one of my favorite Scarlet>Fires from 4/13/83 Burlington, VT.

Happy Jerry Week.

RIP Ornette Coleman

Many jazz and music writers will write about Ornette Coleman more knowledgeably and eloquently than I can, so I will just share a few thoughts.  Coleman belonged to the "first name is enough" echelon of jazz giants, so I will refer to him as countless others have: Ornette.

Ornette was a true maverick genius of American music, and I'm fully conscious of the overuse of the word genius.  If a genius is someone who does something genuinely innovative yet wholly obvious and necessary in hindsight, then Ornette fits the bill.  From the start he had a clear vision: make music that sounds sounds beautiful and honest, regardless of whatever convention or pattern you may break in the process.  It's not exactly rocket science, yet at the time the idea was absolutely radical and divisive -- it still is.  Unlike other pioneers of "free jazz" (Cecil Taylor comes to mind), Ornette's music was also wholly inclusive: maybe it wasn't always approachable to those who preferred the conventional way, but Ornette's jazz never felt completely out of reach, never exclusive or closed off to non-believers.  It felt too real.  It wasn't confrontational and it wasn't explicitly reactionary: it was "folk art" in the most sophisticated sense.  Miles Davis was a contemporary who also warrants the "maverick genius" tag, but Miles' thing was always to push relentlessly, unapologetically forward, refusing to look back at what he left in his wake.  Ornette's music grew and changed over the course of his 50+ years, but it never felt like he was trying to leave anything behind.  It defied that narrative of "progress" and "development" that jazz critics love to map onto long careers like his, but it also never felt like he was being nostalgic or locked in the past either.  And it's no exaggeration to say that he completely changed the course of jazz in a way that almost no one else did: he rearranged the priorities, and folks like Miles, Coltrane, and Mingus on down changed what they were doing after Ornette's music hit.  Yet, for all of his maverick and revolutionary spirit, he was no isolationist: his music has always been about communication and community, always an ensemble music where the ensemble always remains just as much in focus as any soloist (I even chose the pic above with this in mind).

I didn't get it at first.  My father had the landmark Shape of Jazz to Come record and I listened to it as a kid and wondered what was going on.  So like much other "challenging" music, it wasn't until I got to see Ornette in person that it suddenly made sense.  This must have been around 1997 or so, and it was a reunion of Ornette with his original bandmates Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins at Lincoln Center in New York -- sadly, all have left us now.  I'm not being hyperbolic: it really was life-changing in a musical sense.  All of a sudden, "free" improvisation made sense.  It just seemed perfectly natural: three cats playing the music as it changes, grows, and moves around before us.  I had never heard anyone outside of the Dead play music in that way before.

The influence of Ornette shouldn't come as a surprise, though it wasn't talked about as often as influences like Coltrane or Charles Ives.   Weir said that the Dead were listening hard to Ornette in the 60's, and Miles Davis himself even reported that Garcia liked Ornette.  But just listen: every Dead jam that took it outside of the normal bounds owes a little something to Ornette's conception of music.

Blair Jackson's got the story of how Garcia hooked up with Ornette for 1988's Virgin Beauty album, with some extensive quotes by Garcia.  Some more pertinent background info is at deaddiscs as well.

And, of course, Ornette actually performed with them, too.  Twice!
https://archive.org/details/gd1993-02-23.116152.NeumannKMF4.daweez.d5scott.flac16
(this one has one track from Ornette's opening set with Garcia sitting in)
https://archive.org/details/gd1993-12-09.sbd.miller.91958.sbeok.flac16

But tonight, I'm breaking out the Atlantic box set, the Golden Circle trios, the amazing Science Fiction album, Dancing In Your Head and Of Human Feelings by the Prime Time band, all the way up to his final "official" album Sound Grammar that coincided with his Pulitzer Prize.  Long live Ornette!

10/16/89

Since this blog will likely focus mostly on the Dead and Jerry's various solo endeavors, it seems weirdly appropriate that the first post is on Bobby's birthday. I'm inclined to say that Kreutzmann took the cake for "best birthday shows," though Bob's birthday was marked by several good ones. While my tastes generally lean more towards 1974 than 1989, 10/16/89 is a show that is near and dear to my heart. When I was 15 or 16 I taped the second set off WBAI (NYC) and I was floored. It was one of those "okay, now I see what the big deal is" moments that really got my ass on the bus in a serious way.

http://archive.org/details/gd1989-10-16.mtx.hansokolow.96899.flac16

The show was released officially, but is still up at LMA. I'm not always a matrix guy, but this one does this show proud, particularly the excellent sounding second set, which has just enough ambiance to counter the "late era" sbd sterility. Heads debate the merit of the whole show, but I think it's a great one, period. Nicely spirited runs through Half Step, Stranger, and Memphis Blues make the first set more than just enjoyable, and a killer Let it Grow > Deal really turns up the heat for the main event.

The second set... well, just listen.  It's a perfectly constructed whole, with just the right mix of light and darkness.  Jerry's MIDI effects sound fresh and playful, not yet a part of the stock bag of tricks.

It's one of the great ones of the period.  Happy birthday, Bob!