Monthly Archives: June 2016

Memories of Deer Creek are almost too numerous to count for most of US. I remember when the place was brand new on my first trip there in the Summer of 89. Something about being in the middle of nowhere really brought out some special stuff in our favorite musicians. The surrounding areas always were welcoming and cool places to camp were relatively free of law enforcement or other things that would kill our buzzes at the time. I remember being there in the summer of 90 as well. The Summer of 90 was a dreadfully dry Summer for buds. You couldn’t even score shitty Mexican brick weed at times. I believe that Summer gave birth to more people growing their own pot than any summer I’ve ever known. Nobody was gonna let that shit happen again. While we were going into the show, I remember security checking every single person’s fanny pack. They weren’t arresting people but throwing whatever they found in trash bins at the gates. When I saw what was going down, my hustler mind kicked in and I got a fabulous idea. I stuffed as much legal shit as I possibly could into my fanny pack while approaching security. I stepped up and let the security person look through all the shit I put in the pack while I reached into the bin and stuffed a puffy baggie into my back pocket. I was a little nervous but got waved through and walked briskly toward the bathrooms. I could smell what I had scored before I even got there. When I got to the bathroom I reached in my back pocket and pulled out nearly a half ounce of the mega dank nuggets! What a score! Like any good Deadhead, I smoked damn near the entire bag during the show with everybody around me. I headed to the campground afterward with only a few bedtime bong hits. One of those nights I’ll never forget.

I’d like to give a shout out to Andrew Shaman for the stream he provided along with his beard of perpetual life. For those of you heading to shows with a desire to stream, Facebook Live provided a nearly flawless stream for the entire night. There were much fewer glitches than those I’ve watched on Periscope. I’m incredibly Grateful that Andrew doesn’t dance at all. That may have been a weakness long ago but in the present day world of streaming, being someone that doesn’t dance at all has enormous benefits for those of US at home on couch tour. If I was gonna stream the show for you, it would look like a camera was tied to a mechanical bull. I dance my ass off so streaming by me wouldn’t work out so good. Thanks for the stream and the occasional commentary Andrew! You’re a great dude and I appreciate you! I think we’ll see a lot more people providing that experience for those at home in the shows to come due to Andrew’s efforts the past 2 nights. I encourage y’all that can’t or don’t dance for whatever reason to do the same!

The show was great and there’s plenty of reviews out there so I’m gonna get right to the point. This review is all about the end of the show. There’s clearly a reason that everything is so much better this time around. It’s because there are people on the stage that are obviously having as much fun as we are. Their names are Oteil, Jeff and John. These guys have way more wood to throw on the fire than any of the players before them. The less restrained they are, the better Weir is. They are the guys pushing the pace and bringing new life to the community. Weir is outstanding because, like many of you, he’s in Love with John. I could’ve sworn I saw Bob wink at him during Looks Like rain last night, which was tremendous. I’m starting to see how much of a difference the infusion of new blood brings not only to our band but the community as a whole. The young folks that are joining the ranks are pushing all of US forward as well!

This leads to my next issue. After all of US have been calling for Oteil to sing, Weir finally gives him a verse in Goin Down The Road Feelin Bad. Another song that like Viola Lee Blues dates back to the 20s, but has been given a bold and lavish working over by our favorite musicians for decades. Weir hands him the verse he’s gonna sing and what is it? “Feed me on cornbread and beans!” Really Bob? Is that the line you wanna give the black guy? How about we just change China Doll into Chitlin Doll and let him sing it? What’s next, “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” out of Space? Maybe we can have him dress like Buckwheat and do “Unce, Tice, Fee Tines a Mady”. Mama Mia, if I didn’t know any better I’d question the whole damn thing… “Is everyone subconsciously racist? Even Bob??? Say it isn’t so!!!” That’s all I’m gonna say about that… Love you Oteil! YOU bring everything that is right about humanity into our community and it’s about damn time we had a member of the band that could dance with US! The rest of those honkies haven’t moved for shit since 1965… I speak for A LOT of people when I say, We want to hear more singing from Oteil! Brother should start scattin during space! That would rock!

The encore was Black Muddy River, a song most people didn’t give a shit about until it became the last song Garcia sang. The first notes of Black Muddy River sent more people to the lot early than any Garcia song in history. Folks would rather get a jump on traffic or cooking grilled cheese sandwiches and grabbing their coolers to sell Oatmeal Stouts outside the gates than listen to that one in its entirety. I know, I know, some of you always loved BMR since the first time you heard it and last night was the greatest thing in the history of the planet. I’m happy for you! As far as I’m concerned, it’s way too Jerrycentric of a song for anybody else to sing. That tune only stood up for me because of the man that stood there and delivered it. While John is rapidly winning over the haters, most people have swung almost obnoxiously in the opposite direction. I’ve seen people say things like, “John owned Black Muddy River!” Lets get something straight here… John will NEVER “own” a Garcia tune. He’s becoming a good renter of the songs, but he doesn’t own shit. Mayer is doing a fantastic job driving the machine forward and providing some energy that hasn’t been seen or heard in a long time but y’all might consider pumping the brakes on some of those more over the top comments… I gained some additional respect for him when he decided NOT to play Tiger, essentially telling Irsay to kiss his ass without ever having to say it. Mayer is growing rapidly due to not just his inborn talent and work ethic, but the environment that’s created by this body of music and the musicians and fans around him. It takes ALL of US to make any of this take place. Give yourself a hand! The energy provided by US hasn’t been this good since the early 90s. It’s clear that this whole thing is only getting better and better. I think the ideal musicians are gathered together at the ideal time and being supported by the ideal people. It’s a fantastic time to be US! Catch ya soon!

Dead To The Core,

Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)
The Official Home of Unofficial Grateful Dead and Music News & Grateful Dean on Facebook
@gd50th on Twitter

Dead Riverbend

I don’t know about you, but whenever I hear the word River or Bend, my first thought is instantly 6-24-85. I listened to that show so much as a kid, I kept 3 copies of it just in case something happened to the other 2. The first set was 8 songs. They were good. The second set was the kind of stuff that made the Dead and all of US Grateful. From the Iko and Weir’s “Why Chompa Chula go on Chomp Chomp Chomp” line to the U.S. Blues encore, that night was wrapped in stardust. I still laugh every time I hear Weir sing that line! It’s like theme music for a TV show called, “When Improv Goes Wrong”. Like most of those moments in GD Land, they’re part of our emotional and psychological treasure forever. That second set was a special one. The He’s Gone that melts into Smokestack with perfection, The Cryptical Sandwich that includes Comes a Time as its primary source of meat. Any night you got Comes a Time was a GRATE night regardless of what preceded or followed. The Summer of 85 was Garcia’s out of the Black and into the Red Tour in more ways than one. I don’t know if he had a bunch of red shirts or just stayed high long enough that year not to sleep or change clothes. Maybe 1985 was really just one long day for Garcia. Those gray corduroys probably walked away by themselves after Garcia finally got out of em. The year that celebrated the 20th Anniversary of our favorite band was a year jam-packed with special shows and magical moments. It was the year I got sucked into the vortex forever and it has been the most dominant and continuous thread in the fabric of my existence ever since. Little did we know, Garcia was slowly heading into a major speed bump in his life and one of the most dreadful times in our band’s history. None of that was readily apparent to US on the outside that year because the music was reaching new levels of expression and discovery. Songs were finding new lives and their delivery was growing and changing. Set lists were being shuffled around and some of the most mind-bending music was being played with incredible consistancy. Those were the days…

Fast forward 31 years and we find a lot of similarities. 3 of the original cats along with 3 new ones took the stage in Riverbend last night. The first set was 8 songs. They were good. The second set was the kind of stuff that’s bringing the magic back to the musical landscape of our present. I’m not the biggest fan of Phil’s singing, but Box of Rain is one of those tunes that I always love hearing him sing. I’d LOVE to hear Oteil get a few tunes to sing but after the 50th Anniversary Shows, I think the band just has a phobia about letting a bass player sing for a while. Regardless, Box Of Rain was great and the Psychedelic Stew started brewing as early as the song’s first solo. John bent it out of shape a little and let it wander almost as if it was losing its way along with everyone else before the shapeless took shape once again. His vocals along with everyone else’s did the tune justice. The harmonies are improving nightly as is Jeff’s volume. Then came the Viola Lee Blues, and shit starting getting funky spiritual. A song whose lyrics could fit on the back of a business card yet just as incredible of a creation as the masterpieces penned by Hunter and Barlow. The song began and slowly the jams got packing, left home, got married, got divorced, had a couple of kids in between and came back just in time for another brief verse. I began flashing back to those moments seeing the Dead when the jams started getting so far out there and bending so hard that I’d begin to wonder if the band forgot what they were playing only to realize at the same time that I forgot what the fuck they were playing to begin with… While my mental groundedness has improved considerably since then, the potential for those moments to be experienced were readily available last night.

Uncle John’s made its way through the melted down quagmire that Viola Lee left behind while roaming into outer space and sent everybody continuing happily along the road of intense character development. I really was digging the reggae segments that found their way into a couple of tunes last fall and hope they find their way back. The first notes of Chinacat have a way of instantly removing any inhibition or struggle being experienced and it always feels like a magical door of life is opened before me. I pass through it utilizing some of my happiest dance moves that work themselves out from the center of my soul without any effort of my own. As that tune advances through it’s progressing intensity, our smiles advance accordingly. In the midst of the jams between verses, I begin to feel like I’m just observing my flailing body and smiling with unspeakable joy as I make brief moments of eye contact with those around me, as well as those in the distance, that are going through the same fuckin thing! The jams seem to venture far out into the distance before rapidly returning to land right in front of my face over and over again. That’s a wild ride each and every time and that combo of tunes has never disappointed. The pinnacle of that jam was most definitely nailed last night before exhaling powerfully into The Rider. The solos that ensued after the opening verse were highlighted by Jeff wrapping the ivories around my brain. The Piano was loud and crystal clear with Chimenti being given the increasing volume he deserves. Garcia’s line has become a sing along because it typically takes more than 3 people to attempt to fill the gap he left in the music when he exited the planet. Even then, it comes up a little shy of the well-remembered mark but was outstanding none the less.

Coming out of Space, Viola Lee finally made it back home to finish what seemed to begin an eternity ago. Viola finally finished wandering and lay down to rest at the opening notes of Stella Blue. A song that like so many, has an immensely deep meaning within it that seems to get progressively more relevant as every day goes by in this life. Words that so many of us can reverberate with over the years. It all rolled into one and by now we all understand the price to be paid for taking the ride. Nothing has come for free… There’s nothing we can hold… For very long… As I listen, the price that has been paid with my own efforts and my own life takes center stage. The victories versus the setbacks… The completeness of it all constantly at war with the brokeness often found along the way. The internal gratitude that fights to arise from the depths of some of life’s deepest despair… The moments when the circus seemed to move on without me and there was nothing but pavement left… And broken dreams… Then you hear that song… Come crying like the wind… Maybe all this life really is just a dream…

Sugar Mags closed it out with the strength, hope and joy that helps to brush off the challenges experienced during Stella replacing them with the jubilation of a night that gave US all a few more hours to live inside of the controlled musico-emotional realm that’s been created by our favorite musicians. Weir gaining strength after a few days to rest following Bonaroo and obviously feeling up to the task at hand. As the music rolls on it’s beginning to form a distinctive character with a signature that doesn’t mimick The Grateful Dead but holds true to its foundations while growing in a very exciting and spiritually pleasing direction. The chords that get slammed to finish Sugar Mags and lead into the Sunshine Daydream were a springboard into the powerful finish that left everybody with an impression that this thing is growing day to day and show to show. Bob ferociously finishing the night with a few howls that may not be as high pitched as in days gone by but with enough enthusiasm to keep US plenty juiced about the days ahead!

Just like that day back in 1985, U.S. Blues was the encore. You remember Garcia when he would be all amped up at the end and shout out a bunch of “My My My My Oh My Oh MY OH MY MY MY!!!!!!” That shit didn’t happen but the tune that pays homage to all things American and Summertime through the eyes of The Grateful Dead experience was a pleasing way to staple this one into the scrapbook of our lives.

As we roll toward Indy and Deer Creek, it will be interesting to see if John or Bob chooses to play Tiger. It was sent out to visit the band by Jim Irsay, its current owner. He sent it in hopes of hearing it played while attending the shows there. In my opinion, John has nothing to gain by playing the guitar. Weir could play it but it wouldn’t be heard at all like we remembered hearing it. Maybe find out before too long… Enjoy and I Love y’all!

Dead To The Core,

Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)
The Official Home of Unofficial Grateful Dead and Music News & Grateful Dean on Facebook
@gd50th on Twitter