[Author's Note: This is the obsessive's breakdown of May 28, 1977. For everyone else, the more concise and polished review is published below.]
Grateful Dead
To Terrapin: Hartford '77
5/28/77
SET ONE
Bertha. Starts with a little less wild exuberance than in the early 70s, probably my favorite overall period for the song. Jerry's singing is likewise a little more low-key, but nonetheless expressive. The Godchauxs are doing a fine job: Donna's harmonies add some lovely color, and Keith's rather rhythmic fills, while hardly virtuosic, complement the easygoing '77 vibe. Jerry's solo is, again, considerably less frenzied than it would have been only a few years earlier, but it's both lyrical and precise. It's Keith in the background, actually, who really pushes the ROCK out of the song in the latter stages of the instrumental, and it's a welcome development. (He actually was still playing quite well in the spring of '77; that would change somewhat in the fall.) It's really quite a fine version by the end. >
Good Lovin'. Usual key maneuvering to get to the C riff. (Gotta love the '77 rhythm section; Mickey and Bill were such a part of that beautiful feel.) (MIX: Very nice, crisp with good instrument separation, but I wouldn't be complaining if Phil were even higher—there's no such thing as too much Phil.) This version is great not only in execution but VIBE, and I think that's a huge part of the '77 appeal (which I totally get, even though I might prefer the pre-hiatus years). Bobby's vocal freak-out at the end nicely underscored by some bass thumps. They draw out that last C chord for all it's worth until Jerry announces >
Sugaree. Here we go. Very little is better than a May '77 Sugaree. First instrumental: Jerry starts those slow, spiraling notes, those glistening strands of dewy melodic invention, and everyone else bears out the counterpoint so beautifully. This is perhaps one of the greatest representations of what this band could create with only two chords. I dare you not to be moved. The feeling that drips from every line here and lots of Sugarees from this era is really just one of the best things they ever tapped into. Builds in momentum, through double-time notes and chord riffing and Phil ascents... but this is really music beyond words. Bobby's brighter guitar color meshes with Jerry's darker, fluid one so perfectly. Second instrumental: Keith starts us off. Just graceful triplet patterns, as lilting as can be. (His sense of inversions/part writing is excellent, for those of you who pay attention to that kind of thing.) His arpeggiations fuse seamlessly with Jerry's. Just once, for a brief period, neither Keith nor Jerry seizes the inventive line, and it flags slightly, but Jerry revives it quickly, building the second instrumental to its shredding peak (this isn't dark shredding, by the way—it's just an expression of incredible sentiment). Jerry gives it all to the singing, too, and his voice is perhaps my favorite, if I may make a subjective choice. Third instrumental: very placid opening after storm of past two instrumentals. Jerry explores a lot of his lower register at first; the effect is suitably mournful, and when he moves up higher, it's like crying. This might be the most rhythmically varied of the three instrumental segments, though it never rises to the auspiciously BIG peaks of the other jams (its intensity is in its focus and restraint). In the last verse/chorus of the song, it becomes apparent again just how expressive Jerry's voice is—he's really acting the song. Thus ends a HELL of a half-hour opening segment. Wow.
(Best-ever Sugaree? Irrelevant. There are some others from the surrounding weeks that I like as much or more, but that's just a matter of personal preference.)
Jack Straw. Ah... another typically beautiful May '77 artifact. Again, much more placid than the versions before retirement, which I tend to prefer, but there's no denying the easygoing, gently dancing merits of these '77 specimens. Jerry's guitar playing is just so good, even if the instrumentals don't get as intensely jammed out. Every phrase seems to say something. Jerry's vocal lines aren't given nearly enough feeling, which is a drawback. The second instrumental is given a much lengthier treatment, gradually stretching out to the howling beast it would become in '78 (this one's still tamer, but still has a beauty and a strength). I prefer 5/8 or 5/25 from this month, but this one's lovely nonetheless.
Row Jimmy. Keith on early-'77 organ-thing, which has a weak sound. It's a drawback, given what his contributions were on, say, a Fender Rhodes in '74. As beautiful as this song is, it doesn't do enough to captivate with every listen, though there are some really remarkable versions out there. I'm not feeling this one. It's also possible the '77 tempos are starting to drag to these ears. Maybe this one will open up to me more on subsequent hearings, but right now 5/8 and 5/21 are my favorite Jimmys of the month.
Minglewood. This song could have some definite kick to it during this period (actually, fuck what most people say—I can think of a lot of, say, mid-80s versions with lots of kick too—dig October '83!). But this is a crisp version that's rounded out by Phil thumps and there's no slide guitar that would tend to dominate starting '78. I wish Keith were higher on the mix here (he tends to get buried in rockers this year)—he takes a solo, but it's more rhythmic playing that the melodic invention he would have put into it in '76. Jerry's playing is typically excellent, but it's not going to blow your mind if you're a Deadhead with a steady intake of Minglewoods (which I am). Bobby's playing actually fans the drama pretty significantly at the end of the last instrumental.
Candyman. Keith back on organ for another Jerry ballad. Bobby throws in some nice shimmering fills when needed. Three-part harmonies in chorus nicely executed. It's fascinating how in-transition Jerry's voice sounds in '77—he's a few years past his youthful singing, and the next few years would really scratch his voice up into its famous latter-day tone. Here he's in a nether-zone, singing with less exuberance, an older sensitivity. His wah-wah solo is a thing of delicate beauty, and a good example of the group (the support) backing Jerry (the focus) in '77, rather than the more collective jamming of '73-'74.
Passenger. Quintessential late '70s howler, and always a good place to hear some Phil thumps, not to mention Keith's funkier contributions (which sound a bit like squelching bugs, and it's awesome) or the thrill of some of Jerry's slide lines. Donna really growls (not howls!) on "raging beast." A fine version, but nothing unusual. Forgive the relentless comparisons, but in May '77 it's got to be done: I prefer 5/19.
Brown-Eyed. Another one I definitely look forward to this month. Keith back on piano distinguishes himself neatly paralleling Jerry's vocal lines. Donna's harmonies are much better than Phil's were, let it be said. WHOA! Jerry's first solo really gets off to a surprising and thrilling start! You'll just have to hear it. Damn... this is a version that lives up to some very high expectations! Keith is really playing about as well as he ever did this year, too, and that's still quite good. In comparison to early versions, "tumbledown shack" bridge doesn't get a lot of punch, but the solo gets SO MUCH that it would be a petty complaint. The remainder of the song is just typically great, but this has already been pushed into first-class territory. Up there with 5/8 and /9.
Promised Land. This rocker is bursting with typical '77 fatness (pre-retirement Chuck Berry numbers were handled differently). Keith's solo is very nice, if rhythmically even, but that's consistent with the general tendencies here. Jerry doesn't handle the harmonies on the last verse as well as I might wish, but they leave a good space of time after to rock out—and they do. Highly enjoyable way to end a set.
Set One Summary: Total time 76:37. The opening sequence is phenomenal, and the Sugaree is the rival of any, worthy of every bit of praise that's been heaped on it. The rest of the set, apart from a gem of a BEW, is comparatively lackluster, which is to say it's well-played to a fault but low on energy. I'd take most first sets from April through June '77 over this one, but it's still a 7.5 or so.
SET TWO
Samson. This is definitely a song that was frequently stellar this tour. Introduction sounds very fine, with Keith making his presence known. (The official releases tend to be mixed in his favor more than the bootlegs.) He continues to distinguish himself with inventive harmonies backing Bobby. Jerry begins his solo on something of a weak beat, but his playing is more than up to upping the ante as he goes. His punctuation to Bobby's vocal ferocity is also noteworthy, though Keith is the best instrumentalist throughout the verses. Jerry's second solo is even stronger, a barnstormer—some really inventive lines really shake off all expectations. An excellent Samson worthy even of its formidable '77 peers.
Tennessee Jed. This tune I generally think lost a lot of sparkle in its transformation to '77 rhythmic evenness. The wash of drums, slower plodding tempo, and relative tameness of Keith's playing doesn't do it any favors. Sure enough, there's not a lot here to distinguish it from countless other Jeds. (Verses will pass and just not spark that much comment, honestly.) Keith starts picking up some spark just in time for the closing instrumental. Bobby and Phil's complementing Jerry is very interesting to listen to here, but Keith and even Jerry are just too rhythmically even to stand out consistently. A pity, because it climaxes very nicely. Still, nothing like a really good pre-retirement or even '76 Jed.
Estimated. Ah! That glorious bass thud, the wah-wah... could a Deadhead not love the introduction to Estimated? Not quite as crisp as some—this is a gooier beast, for better or worse. It shows its infancy at a few moments—namely, there just aren't enough fills in the right places, and the vocal harmonies aren't always 100% sharp. Jerry, however, is clearly practiced with the song and nails the often difficult bridge into the G maj. jam, which itself is FAR shorter than it would become or than one would like. But we get a good length of time to move out of Estimated, at least. The jam out is largely dominated by Jerry—it's not as rich as versions to come where Brent would help push that envelope. Jerry's also playing with fewer accidentals than he would work in over the next few years, so this take remains rooted to the bass framework more than some. The last couple minutes break from any symptoms of blandness. Bobby's really adding a lot of nice melodic counterpoint, and Keith's at least a big part of the funky texture. Phil's holding down the basic pattern more than anything else, which is probably important in a song as slippery as this. >
Playing. Keith's synth-organ tone is a little unusual to these ears. Bobby and Donna blend well, and Jerry's playing is very crisp. The opening is just as jubilant as one would want to the ending reprise coming out of the darkest jam to be. Playing still takes the immediate drop into D minor for the jam that was so striking of earlier versions and would be forestalled in the years to come. Indeed, multilayered rhythmic characteristics aside, this Playing hasn't entirely lost its pre-retirement vibe. It is, of course, much less Keith-driven (though he's toying with some really interesting and bizarre electronic textures). This version has a lot of really excellent jamming, however—it's likely about as good as Playing got in '77, which is still a decently high standard, even if we're not talking '72-'74. For the electronic weirdness, this is actually one of the strangest versions I've heard (though the freak-outs like 12/2/73 or 5/21/74 are another matter entirely). This last few minutes occasionally leave the Dorian mode for increased dissonance. Likely the Dead know they're not doing a standalone version. >
Terrapin. Very smooth and interesting transition. This is the second release named after a Terrapin as the centerpiece of the second set. 3/15/90 Terrapin is wonderful, so we'll see if this one lives up to that precedent. This song works so well in the year of its debut because it fits this incarnation of the band so impeccably: the way Keith and Phil and Bobby frame the verses show they're really paying attention and enjoying their latest and perhaps most idiosyncratic extended composition. (In that respect, one can see why it was this song Phish dug up to pay homage to Jerry in August '98.) Lady With A Fan altogether is executed PERFECTLY, really everything one could ask for. Let's see how Part II goes off.... Keith plays some really sparkling arpeggios in the transition (he's really wonderful throughout this track). Beautiful dive into "Inspiration!" (Move me brightly...!) I just have to turn up the volume here... this is so beautiful. This is one of the best Terrapins I've heard, without a doubt (I see where they got the title now). There's a flub or two, but they just keep on, and it's wondrous. I'm going to go out on a limb and say Keith is playing this song just about as well as his successor ever did (and in his own idiomatic Keith style). Phil's all over this, too. Everyone is. This is just glorious... I can't use enough superlatives. They dive back into the Playing jam, rather thrillingly, too, giving us a beautiful thirty seconds of that before >
Drums. They strike up the NFA rhythm from the beginning of the duet. You can even hear some faint E-chord explorations off in guitar-land. (These weren't the days of leaving the stage.) >
NFA. This song could rock as noisily as anything the Dead ever played in '77, especially in the fall. I really like the days before NFA was confined to a set-closing role. The band provides considerable buildup to the considerable song for minutes on end before the vocals, consistent for the year. Vocals at 4:30. They really keep jamming at a very even level of intensity here, neither playing for dynamic, melodic, or rhythmic variations or fanning the heat as much as they would by the fall. After the second vocals, Keith plays some very cool upper-register lines over the chord changes. Jerry's doubled-octave sound is a staple of this era, and always a pleasure to hear. There's nothing radical about this NFA, but it's consistently enjoyable and engaging. Phil's bass is perhaps the most inventive component. The even E jam starts fade away in the last five minutes of the track, moving into freer explorations on the same mode (in terms of departure from a template, the most spontaneous jamming of the night). Turns toward A major in an even more spontaneous jam in the last two and a half minutes, proving the Dead still had the flexibility to pull this off in '77, if not as often as before. Its key and texture say Dark Star to me, but as we all know it's the slow approach of a Wharf Rat. (GDM could have called all that "Hartford Jam" if they'd wanted—it would have merited the title.) >
Wharf Rat. A lot of attention seems to be given to the basic sound in this version. The vocals and the way they blend are great. The instrumental placements are precise, restrained, and effective. A very pretty Wharf Rat. The jam out takes on a powerful edge by Jerry from the beginning, and Keith's chords play to a lot of effect here. Bobby's shimmering A and G chords occasionally call to mind the Cryptical end-jam. I'm sticking with the Pretty and Formally Perfect assessment here—it doesn't have quite enough whoop-ass in the right spots to match the absolute best Wharf Rats. >
Playing. Sudden drop back into D minor, at first with a slightly skewed rhythm which resembles something from Let It Grow, which was currently on sabbatical until the fall, so that's not a choice. The jamming remains cemented to The Main Ten, albeit in a very pleasant way, but it's a conclusion track, not an extension of the earlier Playing jam followed by a conclusion, a la an earlier Playing sandwich. Keith's synth sounds a little out-of-place here and at other times. We welcome the piano back with great pleasure... and the immediate return of the synth with increased displeasure! The full piano sound would make for such a more majestic conclusion, though everyone else is certainly throwing that kind of weight around, and we're getting majesty anyway. Jerry, unusually, quotes Main Ten a few times and the opening riff only once before the song closes. Virtually a segue into:
OMSN. The really fat sound serves this rock-'n'-roller in C fairly well, as it did the other rock-'n'-roller in C at the close of the other set. Other than that, things are fairly standard, in the best possible '70s way.
(Encore.) U.S. Blues. Jerry's voice is considerably weaker here than it was three years earlier when the song debuted. Less Keith and a heavier rhythm section don't play to the song's advantage either, in my book. For contemporary versions, the 6/9/77 is a step above this, too, but the instrumental break here does have some balls. Jerry brings his voice up a little more for the critical "You can call this song the United States blues!" The coda has got some fire behind it as well. Altogether better than good, but not excellent.
Set Two/Encore Summary: Total time 95:31. Better than set one! The main sequence of music, the Estimated > Playing sandwich, is exemplary: everything is well-played, the Estimated, Playing, and NFA have enough jam in them to keep things from being a recital, and the TERRAPIN is just exactly perfect, about as epic as anything the Grateful Dead ever played. This is a good set for non-Deadheads, and on par with the other classic sets of April through June. 8.5
Total time 172:08.
Overall: Deadheads like shows from 1977 (especially May). GDM likes releasing shows from 1977 (especially May). As such, any one show or release is subject to ruthless competition and held to Herculean standards. How well "To Terrapin" acquits itself is likely a matter of personal tastes. For me, it's not quite the apex. I would take Dick's Picks 29, 5/8, 5/25, and the June Winterland run over 5/28, but that's a trifling distinction. If you call yourself a Deadhead and you haven't heard this show, you need to—you'll be glad you did. If you're a casual fan, this is a great place to start exploring 1977, especially given that "To Terrapin" is being widely released. B+.
Showing posts with label Grateful Dead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grateful Dead. Show all posts
2009/04/21
Grateful Dead, To Terrapin
[Author's Note: The following review will be published in Friday's edition of the Wooster Voice.]
The Grateful Dead's newest archival release, “To Terrapin: Hartford '77,” is pitted against some intimidating competition. This May 28, 1977, concert was the last from a month that many Deadheads consider the best ever, and while plenty others (this one included) would beg to differ, there's no denying that the band was delivering exceptional, career-defining performances nearly every night of the tour.
This means two things for “To Terrapin”: one, it's marvelous by default; and two, it will forever be subject to ruthless comparisons to its May '77 predecessors.
How does May 28 acquit itself on the latter score? Moderately well. It would certainly be hard to think of a better opening sequence. After rocking through a typical pairing of “Bertha” and “Good Lovin',” both of which boast a polished, sparkling sound, lead guitarist Jerry Garcia seamlessly steers the band into the ballad “Sugaree.”
With its lyrical treatment of love, loss, and regret, and its roots deep in the American folk tradition, “Sugaree” is signature Grateful Dead—and everything about this version falls into place beautifully. The song proper, especially in Garcia's aching vocal lines, is executed with a profound expressiveness, but the three instrumental breaks between verses are where “Sugaree” reaches its most transcendent peaks. Here, in endless but purposeful melodic invention over two chords, the band conjures up a love story more vivid, dynamic, and intense than could ever be put into words, mining every corner of the song for its emotional truth. I dare you not to be moved. The track total runs nineteen minutes, and not one is wasted. Even in a month studded with epic takes, this “Sugaree” is the rival of any.
After “Sugaree,” however, the first set loses considerable momentum. The rhythmic evenness of 1977 Dead begins to drag, and while Garcia takes a truly arresting solo in “Brown-Eyed Women,” backed by some adroit fills from pianist Keith Godchaux, the latter half of the set still feels somewhat underwhelming.
But this band is nothing if not able to bounce back, and they bounce back with a vengeance after intermission. The thick, dark reggae of “Estimated Prophet,” which opens a seventy-minute thread of uninterrupted music, is warped into a fiery, chromatic jam led by Garcia. They then take a jubilant stroll through “Playing in the Band” before that song dissolves like a momentary illusion into fretful, modal jazz spiked with bizarre electronic textures.
The second really exemplary moment of the show comes in the form of “Terrapin Station,” their latest and most idiosyncratic extended composition (and the namesake for this release). The lilting, ambiguous first section is executed perfectly, and not just by Garcia, but by the entire band, all of whom frame the verses with clarity and grace. The triumphant second part of the suite, however, is breathtaking. When Garcia sings, “Inspiration! move me brightly,” you can hear him basking in it. The song doesn't let up from there, but rather charges through its majestic, radiant conclusion.
It's hard to find fault with much of “To Terrapin.” All of the songs are fundamentally played well, and “Sugaree” and “Terrapin Station” are maddeningly good. But in the company of its May contemporaries, the 28th was perhaps only an average night, marred by lackluster passages in the first set. “To Terrapin” is therefore highly recommended, but even greater shows, both bootlegs and official releases, await those interested in exploring the era more thoroughly.
The Grateful Dead's newest archival release, “To Terrapin: Hartford '77,” is pitted against some intimidating competition. This May 28, 1977, concert was the last from a month that many Deadheads consider the best ever, and while plenty others (this one included) would beg to differ, there's no denying that the band was delivering exceptional, career-defining performances nearly every night of the tour.
This means two things for “To Terrapin”: one, it's marvelous by default; and two, it will forever be subject to ruthless comparisons to its May '77 predecessors.
How does May 28 acquit itself on the latter score? Moderately well. It would certainly be hard to think of a better opening sequence. After rocking through a typical pairing of “Bertha” and “Good Lovin',” both of which boast a polished, sparkling sound, lead guitarist Jerry Garcia seamlessly steers the band into the ballad “Sugaree.”
With its lyrical treatment of love, loss, and regret, and its roots deep in the American folk tradition, “Sugaree” is signature Grateful Dead—and everything about this version falls into place beautifully. The song proper, especially in Garcia's aching vocal lines, is executed with a profound expressiveness, but the three instrumental breaks between verses are where “Sugaree” reaches its most transcendent peaks. Here, in endless but purposeful melodic invention over two chords, the band conjures up a love story more vivid, dynamic, and intense than could ever be put into words, mining every corner of the song for its emotional truth. I dare you not to be moved. The track total runs nineteen minutes, and not one is wasted. Even in a month studded with epic takes, this “Sugaree” is the rival of any.
After “Sugaree,” however, the first set loses considerable momentum. The rhythmic evenness of 1977 Dead begins to drag, and while Garcia takes a truly arresting solo in “Brown-Eyed Women,” backed by some adroit fills from pianist Keith Godchaux, the latter half of the set still feels somewhat underwhelming.
But this band is nothing if not able to bounce back, and they bounce back with a vengeance after intermission. The thick, dark reggae of “Estimated Prophet,” which opens a seventy-minute thread of uninterrupted music, is warped into a fiery, chromatic jam led by Garcia. They then take a jubilant stroll through “Playing in the Band” before that song dissolves like a momentary illusion into fretful, modal jazz spiked with bizarre electronic textures.
The second really exemplary moment of the show comes in the form of “Terrapin Station,” their latest and most idiosyncratic extended composition (and the namesake for this release). The lilting, ambiguous first section is executed perfectly, and not just by Garcia, but by the entire band, all of whom frame the verses with clarity and grace. The triumphant second part of the suite, however, is breathtaking. When Garcia sings, “Inspiration! move me brightly,” you can hear him basking in it. The song doesn't let up from there, but rather charges through its majestic, radiant conclusion.
It's hard to find fault with much of “To Terrapin.” All of the songs are fundamentally played well, and “Sugaree” and “Terrapin Station” are maddeningly good. But in the company of its May contemporaries, the 28th was perhaps only an average night, marred by lackluster passages in the first set. “To Terrapin” is therefore highly recommended, but even greater shows, both bootlegs and official releases, await those interested in exploring the era more thoroughly.
2009/02/03
[Grateful Dead, 7/21/90 Tinley Park, IL: NOTES]
[Author's Note: As I have in the past, I'm posting my very detailed, unedited notes for the much more concise review posted below. Anyone really interested in song-by-song analysis of Grateful Dead shows might appreciate this level of scrutiny; for everyone else, let it stand as proof of my obsession.]
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
SET ONE
Touch. Perhaps because of its close association with the start of a Dead show, maybe because it's status as a bona fide hit—always lends an energetic punch as opener. The harmonies, as usual, fall somewhere behind the overall standard, but Jerry is individually in VERY STRONG voice, Brent's organ is nice and juicy, and Phil really smokes in some interesting bass counterpoint. Jerry's solo isn't too shabby. Some really weird effects during the second bridge! (SOUND QUALITY, by the way, is fantastic—this is a Miller, and it could pass for a Dick's Pick.) No true segue, but following soon is:
GSET. Brent's still suffering from whatever vocal ailment dogged him through July '90, during a month that was exceptional for his keyboard performances. (Hope he's saving up for Just a Little Light.) Bobby, however, is in as strong voice as Jerry, sounding fairly unstrained on a song that often gives him some trouble. Brent's keyboard tumbling kicks serious ass, and the intersection of him and Phil and Bobby and Jerry is right on during the instrumental. Even better than Touch.
Bottom line: Touch and GSET form an extremely well-played and energetic combo. I'm seriously pumped for whatever else this show might hold.
Jack-A-Roe. Starts off with a lot of energy and bounce! Jerry's guitar lines in between lyrics carry a lot of elegant menace. Again, this is about the best 1990 singing you could ask for. What's striking about instrumental action like such here is that is really has all the interweaving attentiveness of the early- to mid- 70's—the drummers' relative rigidity makes a difference, of course, but this is really fine playing from all (Bobby included).
Maybe I need to be more sparing with four-star ratings, because it eliminates a special class for material that's as excellent as this, but just barely shy of five stars.
Walkin' Blues. And into harmonic major. Wonderful swampy tone here, and it sounds like everyone's playing it with attentiveness and not by rote. Jerry and Bobby's skillful framing of Brent's solo is exquisite. I love Bobby's vocal performance in blues songs—idiosyncratic like Dylan's, but moderately convincing.
FOTD. I never tire of hearing this song in this era, for whatever reason. Starts fairly inconspicuously, as if the band isn't entirely sure if it's still prepping itself or if it's already begun in earnest. Every reiteration of the main riff, however, gains confidence. Jerry's voice sounds craggier here, but I think he's adjusting to the song. Almost inversely, the harmonies are stronger. The usual cycle of solos begin: Brent's more upbeat and barroom sounding than those from the early end of his tenure, which I confess to prefer (at least in this song), but however it doesn't perfectly suit the song, his playing is at its most virtuosic; Jerry jumps in with an awesome anticipating into what is, unfortunately, Bobby's solo slot, leaving the latter momentarily unsure of what he should be doing—it is, however, representative of the immense energy everyone's bringing to the show tonight. They've got their A game on. Jerry's solo is spiraling in a way that indicates he's following the tone set by Brent (though I swear he usually goes through two iterations of the solo). Very good altogether, but not 6/16/90, say.
Just A Little Light. Okay, I'm no fan of this compositionally, but it can still bring out a good performance. In the pre-song tuning, everyone adjusts to the right synth-tones. I like the collective timbre, I admit! Thick and funky. Brent's voice acquits itself decently, but it's not up to its usual standards; he sounds more than a little hoarse. And the difficulties in the singing somehow manifest itself in a considerable absence of keyboard work. Jerry's playing well, but the song continues to hobble as if everything's been thrown just a little bit out of sync. The keyboard playing is extremely thin, and the song loses a lot of energy. Brent seems unsure of when and where to come in. Let the man go back to his keyboard and leave his singing out of it tonight. (Uh-oh. We've got a Dear Mr. Fantasy coming up.) Low point of set so far.
Queen Jane. Let's hope this song picks the energy up since it came to a really unfortunate halt in the last song. Brent's still not playing like he was in FOTD, and Phil doesn't seem as prominent as he was in the first half of the set. Jerry is easily the strongest player tonight (which wasn't a given in the later years, of course). Brent's keyboard lines follow fairly basic established patterns for Queen Jane, until about halfway through, when things start to pick up more. Jerry's harmonizing his part well, too. Brent's solo is busy, but hardly inventive, and too fixed on the upper register. He leaves a gaping which Jerry fills with another solo. By the end of the song, everyone's packing some power, and it looks like the Bird Song to round things off, jam-heavy and Jerry-led, might keep this set in very positive terrain.
Bird Song. The tuning gives everyone ample hint as to what's to follow (and likely close the set). They all sound really prepped to kick into it, though. Brent's sometimes dizzying keyboard lines are much more appropriate-sounding here, but occasionally overkill. (This is, by the way, the longest GD Bird Song in my possession.) Jerry and Phil are weaving a very convincing Bird Song from the beginning of the jam, with Brent adding appropriate threats of dissonance, throwing in all possibilities of dangerous twists and turns and dark alleys. Jerry's the main player, but everyone's listening very attentively to him, following him and supporting him and mirroring him and filling in for him and giving him space as necessary. Jerry starts bending notes in all kinds of crazy ways, effecting this spacey kind of sublimity everyone's pushing toward. This is another song I really like to hear in '89-'90—less introspective than the versions of '72-'73 but equally well-played. Reaches some really piercing and resounding highs. From there, the intensity starts to come down for the last five minutes, but that's okay. They're talkin' their way back down—really a beautiful structure for a jam, too. Amazing what you can do modally.
Set one in review: Total time 67:32. Generally very strong. Highlights are Bird Song followed by Touch>Greatest followed by Jack-A-Roe. Everything else very good except for Little Light, which in context is a real downer that takes just about the whole of Queen Jane to recover from (for both band and listener). I'm calling it a 7 on the whole.
SET TWO
Scarlet. Jerry's singing well, and the whole thing is crisp, but Brent's organ is really all that stands out instrumentally during the singing. As usual for July, Brent's harmonies are somewhat weak. Jerry's solo won't take your breath away, but Phil supports him nicely, and you can hear the crowd digging it, even in the soundboard—maybe why the band seem to warm into it as the instrumental goes on. Brent switches to keyboard for the jam, which I appreciate in Scarlet. The jam takes an easygoing course. It's nice, but not too lengthy (the 6/16 China Cat is about as long as this Scarlet). I'm liking Brent's touches here more than in the first set (and Jerry's only slightly less). Bobby adds some really nice color, too. It's a fine thing they have going before they hit >
Fire. Scarlet may be a better composition, and yield a more obviously "interesting" jam, but Fire often outshone its prerequisite in performance. Brent's failing harmonies really mar the chorus, but in between verses, wonderful things happen. Jerry's got that wonderful "Fire"-specific tone—he's playing for VOLUME, and Brent's right with him, and Bobby knows just how to stoke the intensity even more. This is HOT. Brent's flurries or stabs of notes come off not clumsy but inspired and "ablaze." Bobby's playing is really elegant, too, and his more distorted tone is a wonderful foil for the clarity of Jerry's declamations. That Scarlet reprise-thing ends the pairing with bounce and poise, an interesting pairing to the catharsis of the past couple minutes.
In essence, this "Fire"'s on fire.
Playing. Yay—Funiculi tuning. Just a little bit. Looking ahead at the setlist, this is a nice three-part Playing, with a jam and a reprise to follow post-Drumz. Obviously, this song isn't what it once was, and I prefer many of the Bruce versions to late-Brent ones, but this is at least crisp, unflubbed. I really prefer the direct dive into D minor in the jam, too—a D major jam feels much more like just an afterthought to the "song" portion much more suitable to an unfinished Playing. The jam here starts off even more low-key than the one out of Scarlet, but by about halfway through things start to get harrier, more chromatic—Brent and Bobby responsible as much as Jerry. Bobby's dissonance occasionally robs Jerry of some inspired melodicism, but we do need some envelope-pushing if this jam is going to be worth our while. It's not badly handled at all, of course. The latter jam portion, incidentally, would be a great pre-Drums jam—I'm hoping He's Gone rises to the occasion. About nine minutes in we get some pseudo-Terrapin jamming—undoubtedly very much a possibility. Jamming cools off considerably in the last minute and sounds like something late in Space–tonal, searching for the next path to take. >
He's Gone. Interesting overlap between the end of playing and the start here. Brent's still trying to carry the high line, but he's very hard to hear. The verses can be a little monotonous, for all the neatly executed playing. The instrumental gains considerable interest. Phil starts to speak up more than he has in a while—contributing a really cool run to the second "steal your face" line. The vocal coda comes off quite well, in spite of a series of questionable uses of the dominant chord in Garcia's guitar accompaniment. Leaves us about 2:40 to get us to Drums. Very pleasant stuff. Hints at Eyes, Stella, maybe even the upcoming Miracle. Phil is very prominent and they really make this a nice, if brief, little jam. Bobby last man standing before >
Drums. Drums and Space probably best serve their function if they can pretend not to be a rote fixture—that is, if they can masquerade as the natural jam that lies between, in this case, He's Gone and Miracle. I suppose if they take on a really successful life of their own, that clinches it on different terms. I'll admit, I don't think most do either, but this is a fairly interesting Drums, and it may well belong in that second positive category. It's indicative of Mickey's world music interests, certainly, and parts recall that really cool "And" jam from Drumz featured on Terrapin Limited. >
Space. The MIDI effects really work well here, and the drastic fluctuations in volume and timbre sound really cool on these headphones. '90 Space could be pretty scary (3/19 comes to mind, not to mention 9/20 leading into Dark Star). I'm always glad to spend more time on Space than Drums, as here. Still, it's just atmospheric—it doesn't have the boldness that define a few excellent examples that solidify into a more musical statement. You'll get a cool passage or two, and they're listening to one another, but it just doesn't add up as much as one would like. My ears perk up for anything suggesting E: E is where we came from, and E is where we're going. We need to find our way back there. The transition amounts to about 20 seconds Miracle riffing at the end. >
Miracle. Nothing beats the coolness of "Lunatic Preserve">Miracle coming up on 9/16 of that year, but this show has its own draws, of course. Phil's fairly loud '90 tone is a lot of what makes this song. I just can't help tapping my foot along to Jerry's solo, giving the slightest inclination toward head-banging even though my roommate's around. This is actually one of my favorite exits out of Space, and this one really ROCKS. This is a lot of fun, and a good way to kick off what is typically the weakest third of the show. The G major transition provides a good hint as to the coming song, and it's a beautiful, natural segue into >
Crazy Fingers. I've very seldom heard a Crazy Fingers post '76 that turned out as I would have liked, but I do like them post-Space. The instrumentation during the singing is mostly just chords, and one or two isn't quite right. Brent is the best bit to listen to. And Jerry no longer sounds like he's owning the vocals. The choruses would really benefit from Brent's voice being there. Jerry's solo is weak and spindly. The instrumental outro is better. Really brief Main Ten jam/fakeout into >
Dear Mr. Fantasy. Brent doesn't sound nearly as wrong-footed as he did in Just A Little Light. Jerry really tears up the rather easier material in this song. Everyone does really well in this kind of three-chord rock environment at this point in the show. I wouldn't have minded a straight nosedive from Miracle into this (I also wouldn't have minded the Crazy Fingers if it had just been better). If you weren't looking at the set list, of course, you would think a Hey Jude reprise were on its way; Jerry's first guitar line in the coda is almost straight "na-na-na"s. >
Playing. I shouldn't have expected more of the 30-second "jam" earlier. Let's see how they bring this string of music together. It's crisp, but the coda isn't as impassioned as I would like to hear. And sounds really weak next to any ending to Playing in the 70s. No segue whatsoever into:
Saturday Night. Not as intensely rockin' or well-played as any number of earlier versions, but Phil's into it, and no one's really messing up. Probably a fun ending to the show for those there. It's certainly got more balls than the Playing Reprise which preceded it (alas—the show could have just ended with a GOOD Reprise). They milk that last C chord for all it's worth.
ENCORE
Quinn. It's a fun encore. Brent's keyboard playing really suits the happy-sloppy mood of the song. Jerry's guitar isn't there as much, even when he's not singing. It's a pity that Bobby's voice is the one on top.
Set two/encore in review: Total time 103:43. Very solid pre-Drums, moderately disappointing post-Space, in spite of rockin' fun in Miracle and Mr. Fantasy. Highlight of the set was the incendiary Fire, aforementioned rockers, and nifty little jam out of He's Gone. Overall, it blows its load at the beginning and doesn't leave me feeling as good as set one, so I'm calling it a 6.
Show in review: Total time 171:15. A fun, uneven show worth hearing for its share of really stellar playing. Does not have enough to recommend itself over many other summer '90 shows. B-.
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
SET ONE
Touch. Perhaps because of its close association with the start of a Dead show, maybe because it's status as a bona fide hit—always lends an energetic punch as opener. The harmonies, as usual, fall somewhere behind the overall standard, but Jerry is individually in VERY STRONG voice, Brent's organ is nice and juicy, and Phil really smokes in some interesting bass counterpoint. Jerry's solo isn't too shabby. Some really weird effects during the second bridge! (SOUND QUALITY, by the way, is fantastic—this is a Miller, and it could pass for a Dick's Pick.) No true segue, but following soon is:
GSET. Brent's still suffering from whatever vocal ailment dogged him through July '90, during a month that was exceptional for his keyboard performances. (Hope he's saving up for Just a Little Light.) Bobby, however, is in as strong voice as Jerry, sounding fairly unstrained on a song that often gives him some trouble. Brent's keyboard tumbling kicks serious ass, and the intersection of him and Phil and Bobby and Jerry is right on during the instrumental. Even better than Touch.
Bottom line: Touch and GSET form an extremely well-played and energetic combo. I'm seriously pumped for whatever else this show might hold.
Jack-A-Roe. Starts off with a lot of energy and bounce! Jerry's guitar lines in between lyrics carry a lot of elegant menace. Again, this is about the best 1990 singing you could ask for. What's striking about instrumental action like such here is that is really has all the interweaving attentiveness of the early- to mid- 70's—the drummers' relative rigidity makes a difference, of course, but this is really fine playing from all (Bobby included).
Maybe I need to be more sparing with four-star ratings, because it eliminates a special class for material that's as excellent as this, but just barely shy of five stars.
Walkin' Blues. And into harmonic major. Wonderful swampy tone here, and it sounds like everyone's playing it with attentiveness and not by rote. Jerry and Bobby's skillful framing of Brent's solo is exquisite. I love Bobby's vocal performance in blues songs—idiosyncratic like Dylan's, but moderately convincing.
FOTD. I never tire of hearing this song in this era, for whatever reason. Starts fairly inconspicuously, as if the band isn't entirely sure if it's still prepping itself or if it's already begun in earnest. Every reiteration of the main riff, however, gains confidence. Jerry's voice sounds craggier here, but I think he's adjusting to the song. Almost inversely, the harmonies are stronger. The usual cycle of solos begin: Brent's more upbeat and barroom sounding than those from the early end of his tenure, which I confess to prefer (at least in this song), but however it doesn't perfectly suit the song, his playing is at its most virtuosic; Jerry jumps in with an awesome anticipating into what is, unfortunately, Bobby's solo slot, leaving the latter momentarily unsure of what he should be doing—it is, however, representative of the immense energy everyone's bringing to the show tonight. They've got their A game on. Jerry's solo is spiraling in a way that indicates he's following the tone set by Brent (though I swear he usually goes through two iterations of the solo). Very good altogether, but not 6/16/90, say.
Just A Little Light. Okay, I'm no fan of this compositionally, but it can still bring out a good performance. In the pre-song tuning, everyone adjusts to the right synth-tones. I like the collective timbre, I admit! Thick and funky. Brent's voice acquits itself decently, but it's not up to its usual standards; he sounds more than a little hoarse. And the difficulties in the singing somehow manifest itself in a considerable absence of keyboard work. Jerry's playing well, but the song continues to hobble as if everything's been thrown just a little bit out of sync. The keyboard playing is extremely thin, and the song loses a lot of energy. Brent seems unsure of when and where to come in. Let the man go back to his keyboard and leave his singing out of it tonight. (Uh-oh. We've got a Dear Mr. Fantasy coming up.) Low point of set so far.
Queen Jane. Let's hope this song picks the energy up since it came to a really unfortunate halt in the last song. Brent's still not playing like he was in FOTD, and Phil doesn't seem as prominent as he was in the first half of the set. Jerry is easily the strongest player tonight (which wasn't a given in the later years, of course). Brent's keyboard lines follow fairly basic established patterns for Queen Jane, until about halfway through, when things start to pick up more. Jerry's harmonizing his part well, too. Brent's solo is busy, but hardly inventive, and too fixed on the upper register. He leaves a gaping which Jerry fills with another solo. By the end of the song, everyone's packing some power, and it looks like the Bird Song to round things off, jam-heavy and Jerry-led, might keep this set in very positive terrain.
Bird Song. The tuning gives everyone ample hint as to what's to follow (and likely close the set). They all sound really prepped to kick into it, though. Brent's sometimes dizzying keyboard lines are much more appropriate-sounding here, but occasionally overkill. (This is, by the way, the longest GD Bird Song in my possession.) Jerry and Phil are weaving a very convincing Bird Song from the beginning of the jam, with Brent adding appropriate threats of dissonance, throwing in all possibilities of dangerous twists and turns and dark alleys. Jerry's the main player, but everyone's listening very attentively to him, following him and supporting him and mirroring him and filling in for him and giving him space as necessary. Jerry starts bending notes in all kinds of crazy ways, effecting this spacey kind of sublimity everyone's pushing toward. This is another song I really like to hear in '89-'90—less introspective than the versions of '72-'73 but equally well-played. Reaches some really piercing and resounding highs. From there, the intensity starts to come down for the last five minutes, but that's okay. They're talkin' their way back down—really a beautiful structure for a jam, too. Amazing what you can do modally.
Set one in review: Total time 67:32. Generally very strong. Highlights are Bird Song followed by Touch>Greatest followed by Jack-A-Roe. Everything else very good except for Little Light, which in context is a real downer that takes just about the whole of Queen Jane to recover from (for both band and listener). I'm calling it a 7 on the whole.
SET TWO
Scarlet. Jerry's singing well, and the whole thing is crisp, but Brent's organ is really all that stands out instrumentally during the singing. As usual for July, Brent's harmonies are somewhat weak. Jerry's solo won't take your breath away, but Phil supports him nicely, and you can hear the crowd digging it, even in the soundboard—maybe why the band seem to warm into it as the instrumental goes on. Brent switches to keyboard for the jam, which I appreciate in Scarlet. The jam takes an easygoing course. It's nice, but not too lengthy (the 6/16 China Cat is about as long as this Scarlet). I'm liking Brent's touches here more than in the first set (and Jerry's only slightly less). Bobby adds some really nice color, too. It's a fine thing they have going before they hit >
Fire. Scarlet may be a better composition, and yield a more obviously "interesting" jam, but Fire often outshone its prerequisite in performance. Brent's failing harmonies really mar the chorus, but in between verses, wonderful things happen. Jerry's got that wonderful "Fire"-specific tone—he's playing for VOLUME, and Brent's right with him, and Bobby knows just how to stoke the intensity even more. This is HOT. Brent's flurries or stabs of notes come off not clumsy but inspired and "ablaze." Bobby's playing is really elegant, too, and his more distorted tone is a wonderful foil for the clarity of Jerry's declamations. That Scarlet reprise-thing ends the pairing with bounce and poise, an interesting pairing to the catharsis of the past couple minutes.
In essence, this "Fire"'s on fire.
Playing. Yay—Funiculi tuning. Just a little bit. Looking ahead at the setlist, this is a nice three-part Playing, with a jam and a reprise to follow post-Drumz. Obviously, this song isn't what it once was, and I prefer many of the Bruce versions to late-Brent ones, but this is at least crisp, unflubbed. I really prefer the direct dive into D minor in the jam, too—a D major jam feels much more like just an afterthought to the "song" portion much more suitable to an unfinished Playing. The jam here starts off even more low-key than the one out of Scarlet, but by about halfway through things start to get harrier, more chromatic—Brent and Bobby responsible as much as Jerry. Bobby's dissonance occasionally robs Jerry of some inspired melodicism, but we do need some envelope-pushing if this jam is going to be worth our while. It's not badly handled at all, of course. The latter jam portion, incidentally, would be a great pre-Drums jam—I'm hoping He's Gone rises to the occasion. About nine minutes in we get some pseudo-Terrapin jamming—undoubtedly very much a possibility. Jamming cools off considerably in the last minute and sounds like something late in Space–tonal, searching for the next path to take. >
He's Gone. Interesting overlap between the end of playing and the start here. Brent's still trying to carry the high line, but he's very hard to hear. The verses can be a little monotonous, for all the neatly executed playing. The instrumental gains considerable interest. Phil starts to speak up more than he has in a while—contributing a really cool run to the second "steal your face" line. The vocal coda comes off quite well, in spite of a series of questionable uses of the dominant chord in Garcia's guitar accompaniment. Leaves us about 2:40 to get us to Drums. Very pleasant stuff. Hints at Eyes, Stella, maybe even the upcoming Miracle. Phil is very prominent and they really make this a nice, if brief, little jam. Bobby last man standing before >
Drums. Drums and Space probably best serve their function if they can pretend not to be a rote fixture—that is, if they can masquerade as the natural jam that lies between, in this case, He's Gone and Miracle. I suppose if they take on a really successful life of their own, that clinches it on different terms. I'll admit, I don't think most do either, but this is a fairly interesting Drums, and it may well belong in that second positive category. It's indicative of Mickey's world music interests, certainly, and parts recall that really cool "And" jam from Drumz featured on Terrapin Limited. >
Space. The MIDI effects really work well here, and the drastic fluctuations in volume and timbre sound really cool on these headphones. '90 Space could be pretty scary (3/19 comes to mind, not to mention 9/20 leading into Dark Star). I'm always glad to spend more time on Space than Drums, as here. Still, it's just atmospheric—it doesn't have the boldness that define a few excellent examples that solidify into a more musical statement. You'll get a cool passage or two, and they're listening to one another, but it just doesn't add up as much as one would like. My ears perk up for anything suggesting E: E is where we came from, and E is where we're going. We need to find our way back there. The transition amounts to about 20 seconds Miracle riffing at the end. >
Miracle. Nothing beats the coolness of "Lunatic Preserve">Miracle coming up on 9/16 of that year, but this show has its own draws, of course. Phil's fairly loud '90 tone is a lot of what makes this song. I just can't help tapping my foot along to Jerry's solo, giving the slightest inclination toward head-banging even though my roommate's around. This is actually one of my favorite exits out of Space, and this one really ROCKS. This is a lot of fun, and a good way to kick off what is typically the weakest third of the show. The G major transition provides a good hint as to the coming song, and it's a beautiful, natural segue into >
Crazy Fingers. I've very seldom heard a Crazy Fingers post '76 that turned out as I would have liked, but I do like them post-Space. The instrumentation during the singing is mostly just chords, and one or two isn't quite right. Brent is the best bit to listen to. And Jerry no longer sounds like he's owning the vocals. The choruses would really benefit from Brent's voice being there. Jerry's solo is weak and spindly. The instrumental outro is better. Really brief Main Ten jam/fakeout into >
Dear Mr. Fantasy. Brent doesn't sound nearly as wrong-footed as he did in Just A Little Light. Jerry really tears up the rather easier material in this song. Everyone does really well in this kind of three-chord rock environment at this point in the show. I wouldn't have minded a straight nosedive from Miracle into this (I also wouldn't have minded the Crazy Fingers if it had just been better). If you weren't looking at the set list, of course, you would think a Hey Jude reprise were on its way; Jerry's first guitar line in the coda is almost straight "na-na-na"s. >
Playing. I shouldn't have expected more of the 30-second "jam" earlier. Let's see how they bring this string of music together. It's crisp, but the coda isn't as impassioned as I would like to hear. And sounds really weak next to any ending to Playing in the 70s. No segue whatsoever into:
Saturday Night. Not as intensely rockin' or well-played as any number of earlier versions, but Phil's into it, and no one's really messing up. Probably a fun ending to the show for those there. It's certainly got more balls than the Playing Reprise which preceded it (alas—the show could have just ended with a GOOD Reprise). They milk that last C chord for all it's worth.
ENCORE
Quinn. It's a fun encore. Brent's keyboard playing really suits the happy-sloppy mood of the song. Jerry's guitar isn't there as much, even when he's not singing. It's a pity that Bobby's voice is the one on top.
Set two/encore in review: Total time 103:43. Very solid pre-Drums, moderately disappointing post-Space, in spite of rockin' fun in Miracle and Mr. Fantasy. Highlight of the set was the incendiary Fire, aforementioned rockers, and nifty little jam out of He's Gone. Overall, it blows its load at the beginning and doesn't leave me feeling as good as set one, so I'm calling it a 6.
Show in review: Total time 171:15. A fun, uneven show worth hearing for its share of really stellar playing. Does not have enough to recommend itself over many other summer '90 shows. B-.
Grateful Dead, 7/21/90 Tinley Park, IL
[Author's Note: I've finally done what I'd promised myself to do for ages and distilled my notes on a Grateful Dead show into a coherent review. Reviewing live music was the principal intended purpose for this blog, so I hope to make this something of a regular occurrence. This post is first in a planned three-part series dissecting Brent Mydland's last shows with the Grateful Dead.]
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
Brent Mydland's Last Stand: Part I of III
There's a lot to love about set one tonight. In the first fifteen minutes, the band delivers a truly wonderful string of uptempo songs: "Touch" and "Greatest Story" show both Jerry and Bobby in excellent voice, as well as energetic and attentive playing from all, which spills over into an infectiously bouncy "Jack-a-Roe." In the last fifteen minutes, we get a beautiful and expansive "Bird Song," which reaches some piercing and resounding highs at the end of its long, cathartic climb, hinting along the way at startling wells of dissonance and space—it's about as good as the song ever got.
In between these extraordinary bookends falls half an hour of more uneven fare. "Walkin' Blues" is fun and fresh, and "Friend of the Devil" is even better, if not 6/16/90. The show comes to the first of two considerable crashes, however, with "Just a Little Light." Brent's voice is showing a lot of strain this entire show, as it was throughout July, and these difficulties somehow sap his keyboard playing which in turn throws the band out of sync and derails the song. It takes them the entirety of the following "Queen Jane" to fully recover.
The second set starts off at least as promisingly as the first. After an average, low-key "Scarlet," the band creates magic with a "Fire" that truly lives up to its name. Bobby and Brent know just how to poke Jerry for maximum intensity, and tonight they really succeed—his playing is simply ablaze. "Fire" is the absolute highlight of the show and a wonderful reminder of the copious treasures of Summer 1990.
There's still a "Playing" and "He's Gone" to come before "Drums," and both are well-played, especially in the last few minutes of each. The former dissolves into a jam like something from late in "Space" as they search for the next path to take; the latter resolves into a gorgeous, E-major dew with generous contributions from Phil, hinting at at "Eyes," "Stella," maybe even the coming "Miracle."
Post-"Space" isn't nearly as successful. In between a head-banging "Miracle" and a juicy "Dear Mr. Fantasy" comes the second great crash of the show, an all-around weak "Crazy Fingers" followed by a whimper of a "Playing" jam. To round out the set, we get the conclusion to "Playing," which is crisp but flat, and an average "Saturday Night," which, along with the average "Quinn" encore, still makes for a fun end to the show.
7/21/90 offers a relatively attractive package of Grateful Dead from the end of the Brent years and boasts its share of really stellar playing. However, its frustrating unevenness, particularly in the second set, takes a heavy toll on the show, which ultimately does not have enough to recommend itself over many others from that tour.
SET ONE. 7
SET TWO / ENCORE. 6
SHOW. B-/B
The recent remasters of this run by Charlie Miller sound fantastic, on par with, say, Dick's Picks, Vol. 9. This is unquestionably the version you will want to seek out.
http://db.etree.org/shninfo_detail.php?shnid=95809
Grateful Dead
Tinley Park, IL 7/21/90
Brent Mydland's Last Stand: Part I of III
There's a lot to love about set one tonight. In the first fifteen minutes, the band delivers a truly wonderful string of uptempo songs: "Touch" and "Greatest Story" show both Jerry and Bobby in excellent voice, as well as energetic and attentive playing from all, which spills over into an infectiously bouncy "Jack-a-Roe." In the last fifteen minutes, we get a beautiful and expansive "Bird Song," which reaches some piercing and resounding highs at the end of its long, cathartic climb, hinting along the way at startling wells of dissonance and space—it's about as good as the song ever got.
In between these extraordinary bookends falls half an hour of more uneven fare. "Walkin' Blues" is fun and fresh, and "Friend of the Devil" is even better, if not 6/16/90. The show comes to the first of two considerable crashes, however, with "Just a Little Light." Brent's voice is showing a lot of strain this entire show, as it was throughout July, and these difficulties somehow sap his keyboard playing which in turn throws the band out of sync and derails the song. It takes them the entirety of the following "Queen Jane" to fully recover.
The second set starts off at least as promisingly as the first. After an average, low-key "Scarlet," the band creates magic with a "Fire" that truly lives up to its name. Bobby and Brent know just how to poke Jerry for maximum intensity, and tonight they really succeed—his playing is simply ablaze. "Fire" is the absolute highlight of the show and a wonderful reminder of the copious treasures of Summer 1990.
There's still a "Playing" and "He's Gone" to come before "Drums," and both are well-played, especially in the last few minutes of each. The former dissolves into a jam like something from late in "Space" as they search for the next path to take; the latter resolves into a gorgeous, E-major dew with generous contributions from Phil, hinting at at "Eyes," "Stella," maybe even the coming "Miracle."
Post-"Space" isn't nearly as successful. In between a head-banging "Miracle" and a juicy "Dear Mr. Fantasy" comes the second great crash of the show, an all-around weak "Crazy Fingers" followed by a whimper of a "Playing" jam. To round out the set, we get the conclusion to "Playing," which is crisp but flat, and an average "Saturday Night," which, along with the average "Quinn" encore, still makes for a fun end to the show.
7/21/90 offers a relatively attractive package of Grateful Dead from the end of the Brent years and boasts its share of really stellar playing. However, its frustrating unevenness, particularly in the second set, takes a heavy toll on the show, which ultimately does not have enough to recommend itself over many others from that tour.
SET ONE. 7
SET TWO / ENCORE. 6
SHOW. B-/B
The recent remasters of this run by Charlie Miller sound fantastic, on par with, say, Dick's Picks, Vol. 9. This is unquestionably the version you will want to seek out.
http://db.etree.org/shninfo_detail.php?shnid=95809
2008/07/20
In Defense of the Grateful Dead
[Author's Note: I wrote this brief essay back in December for my application to Colby College. The Rachel Carson quote is the single link to the prompt, which is why I didn't quite dare to rectify her opposing verb tenses. I thought this might serve as a good first post, as I intend to write a great deal about the Grateful Dead and other music/art with somewhat selective appeal—for all that, this is an exposition, an appreciation, and a defense.]
There’s this very common joke: What did the Deadhead say when the drugs ran out? Punch line: This music sucks! I’ve always found this joke rather tiresome, and not only as a slur on music I love; like most jokes that operate on wild stereotyping, it clearly doesn’t reflect much knowledge of its subject. Plenty of Grateful Dead (1965-95, R.I.P.) concertgoers avoided the drug scene altogether—most fans were there for the music. And no one who gives the music a ready ear can call it anything but what it is—vibrant, bold, and heartfelt. In fact, the first adjective I associate with the Grateful Dead is beautiful.
Certainly, their songs have an obvious beauty, built as they were on warm harmonies, memorable progressions, rich instrumentation, and considerable sentiment. The Grateful Dead weren’t out to shatter traditional songwriting forms. Many compositions even have an antiquated feel, like they might have stepped out of a sepia photograph. From the shimmering ebullience of “Eyes of the World” to the exhausted pathos of “Brokedown Palace,” beauty abounds.
But there is another type of beauty—a wilder, more elusive species—that was the heart and soul a Grateful Dead concert. When Rachel Carson observed that “one way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, ‘What if I have never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?’” she might easily have been referring to the Grateful Dead. The magic of the concert experience was not chemicals—it was a shared understanding between performers and audience that they were opening their eyes to beauty, to something in a passing moment that could be grasped only once before it was gone. The loose structure of concerts allowed the band to explore the deepest crevices of each song, as well as the space between songs, and at every show this attention to the moment blossomed in something beautiful and unique. Take one night’s (9/21/72) segue between “Dark Star” and “Morning Dew”—after twenty minutes chasing tricky, undulating jazz, the band suddenly find themselves in a crystalline, sparkling bluegrass jam. The spontaneity of it is like sunrise. In thirty years, the band played 2,317 concerts, and no two are alike. The moment is there, and then it’s gone.
Fortunately, the Grateful Dead came along at just the right crossroads of technology—they were playing to an audience, not to a studio engineer, but since recording equipment was nearly always on hand, many of their concerts were preserved for future listeners. A quick comparison between the rough-hewn spark of these tapes and the relative sterility of their studio work further affirms the essentiality of live performance. The Grateful Dead were built on that oldest relationship between artist and audience—sharing one space at the same time—in a century where the two grew ever farther apart.
There’s this very common joke: What did the Deadhead say when the drugs ran out? Punch line: This music sucks! I’ve always found this joke rather tiresome, and not only as a slur on music I love; like most jokes that operate on wild stereotyping, it clearly doesn’t reflect much knowledge of its subject. Plenty of Grateful Dead (1965-95, R.I.P.) concertgoers avoided the drug scene altogether—most fans were there for the music. And no one who gives the music a ready ear can call it anything but what it is—vibrant, bold, and heartfelt. In fact, the first adjective I associate with the Grateful Dead is beautiful.
Certainly, their songs have an obvious beauty, built as they were on warm harmonies, memorable progressions, rich instrumentation, and considerable sentiment. The Grateful Dead weren’t out to shatter traditional songwriting forms. Many compositions even have an antiquated feel, like they might have stepped out of a sepia photograph. From the shimmering ebullience of “Eyes of the World” to the exhausted pathos of “Brokedown Palace,” beauty abounds.
But there is another type of beauty—a wilder, more elusive species—that was the heart and soul a Grateful Dead concert. When Rachel Carson observed that “one way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, ‘What if I have never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?’” she might easily have been referring to the Grateful Dead. The magic of the concert experience was not chemicals—it was a shared understanding between performers and audience that they were opening their eyes to beauty, to something in a passing moment that could be grasped only once before it was gone. The loose structure of concerts allowed the band to explore the deepest crevices of each song, as well as the space between songs, and at every show this attention to the moment blossomed in something beautiful and unique. Take one night’s (9/21/72) segue between “Dark Star” and “Morning Dew”—after twenty minutes chasing tricky, undulating jazz, the band suddenly find themselves in a crystalline, sparkling bluegrass jam. The spontaneity of it is like sunrise. In thirty years, the band played 2,317 concerts, and no two are alike. The moment is there, and then it’s gone.
Fortunately, the Grateful Dead came along at just the right crossroads of technology—they were playing to an audience, not to a studio engineer, but since recording equipment was nearly always on hand, many of their concerts were preserved for future listeners. A quick comparison between the rough-hewn spark of these tapes and the relative sterility of their studio work further affirms the essentiality of live performance. The Grateful Dead were built on that oldest relationship between artist and audience—sharing one space at the same time—in a century where the two grew ever farther apart.
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