Space has been a little creepy… Weird energy all over the arena… Seems like everywhere I go people are in some kind of rush to get somewhere… I don’t know why… We’re all staying right here… Almost like watching people on the streets on Manhattan… Not too many faces seem at ease… Is it me??? I don’t think so… Could be… Garcia’s notes are rolling out of Space like we’re about to get some music again… The Energy in the room is shifting… It’s cool to feel 14,000 people become attentive all at once… What’s it gonna be??? Black Peter??? Stella??? Strange to hear notes that sound like a Garcia Ballad out of Space… The fat strings of Jerry’s guitar begin to form the frame of an incredibly powerful, albeit somewhat eerie march… The drummers fall into place following his lead… The room begins to glow in it’s darkness… Jerry, Bob and Phil are framed in Blue Light… The tempo matches the pace of the steps you might take walking through a graveyard as Garcia approaches his mic from 4 steps back… Death Don’t Have No Mercy… That’s what the fuck I’m talking about!!! The mood created is Pure Magic mixed with Pure Emotion… It’s like a high speed collision where Magic collides with Sorrow… We’re all experiencing this from the Inside Out… Garcia’s line is delivered from deep within his core while the 3 deep creases are fully activated on his forehead… Weir’s line comes through absolutely clear and without any hesitation or doubt… His eyes shadowed like a Skull even when he faces the lights… I don’t how that shit happens… He leans back hard and sharp as if he’s squeezing everything he can out of the moment… 14,000 people are simultaneously having their insides rearranged at will by it all… The first solos begin to take flight… Brent’s Church Organ seems to form some kind of audible hands that appear to lift the music higher and higher… It becomes a completely visceral experience as Garcia’s solo ferociously climbs up and down a stairway of sonic emotion that seems to be made out of the chills that are formed within my spine… Each note penetrates far deeper than our ears as we can literally feel the guitar pick make contact with our hearts… Jerry bends his knees 4 inches… That brings the whole experience way over the top… This Ballad of Death and it’s failure to show Mercy has created a vivid mood, emotion and experience within all of us as it’s completely directed the thoughts of thousands of people in a single direction and all at once… Brent takes his turn completely possessed by the spirit of the song… He Jolts… Shoulders swinging… Looks like The Song is Playing Him… His voice cuts through all of us like a chainsaw through the sternum as he begins open heart surgery on the entire room all at once… We Feel every word… As Brent hammers into his keyboard it appears as if the keyboard hammers back… It sends him into a euphoric looking yet somewhat spastic state… The look in his eyes is like that of someone on a ride they have no hope of controlling in any way… Every cylinder is firing on this one and Jerry has the look on his face that makes us all aware of how special the moment is… The Look that says, “SHIT Is Going Down RIGHT NOW!!!!” He takes his solo with an undeniable fire and and as animated as is possible for the Boss… He’s in perfect command of the moment and with a few deep bends and a strong throw of the final notes into the air brings it all home… Everyone seems to be Paddling as hard as they possibly can as the efforts are generating an energy that seems to have caused the building to lift off… Our Hearts were opened wide… Some Dark Spots were exposed, Romanced and Then Ripped Out… The Feeling of Pure Ecstasy And Pure Sorrow All at the same time is way more than our carnal minds were created to endure… We’ve been forever changed in this moment… We smile as we cry… We Cry as we Laugh… We hug those nearest to us… We acknowledge that we were just part of something that was never available prior to that moment and won’t be completely available ever again… It’s All too much…
Tag Archives: Garcia
Flashback to 12/30/ 89: Estimated->Terrapin… The Official Home of Flashbacks!
This night has been packed with magic beyond our ability to adequately convey using words… Bertha->Good Lovin, Sugaree started the night off with flashbacks from the 70s. There’s something about a second set Jack Straw that can’t be found in a first set version. The China>Rider was so powerful, clean and pure that it actually caused the air inside of the Oakland Coliseum to begin circulating… The Estimated found Weir in top form and the ensuing jam contained components of everything I like best about The Grateful Dead… The Estimated Jam has me at the edge of mental and psychological tolerance… I feel like I could go Syd Barrett at any time… Jerry with the wah-wah pedal making bubbles out of the boiling grey plasma that used to be my brain… I feel like I’m eating a lozenge made by Duracell… Tastes like I’m sucking on a 9 volt battery… I swear there’s fuckin birds in this arena… They’re flying around in my peripheral vision but disappear as soon as I look directly at them… Everybody around me that I make eye contact with is all pupil, zero iris… I can tell how many of us are close to the edge… The lights seem to make the band look like images from a 3D movie when you don’t wear the glasses… Inside the Estimated Jam existed the sound and possibilities for just about every tune you could imagine out of Estimated and I heard the Other One teased in there too… Maybe later… I heard Dark Star notes out of Phil… Weir dropped some chords from Uncle John’s… Brent is way out there in full blown Brent mode… It’s up to Garcia but he’s just busy as hell staring at his own hands as they continue to stir the cauldron of chaos… A few of us could fall off of the earth at any time…
As Garcia wakes up from the trance he put himself in, he straightens up… Looks around to his right… He has the look I have when I wake up from sleeping in class… There’s a sense of relief in seeing him wake up… It’s like making it to the surface after being underwater almost too long… As Garcia commands the attention of the rest of the band he peers over his glasses and fires off the 5 most identifiable notes that exist within our world… Like the first gasp of air that you’d take as you surface, The opening notes of Terrapin add perfect order where seconds ago existed complete chaos… You can actually feel the energy created when 20,000 people smile simultaneously… The Inspiration of one of the greatest Masterpieces ever composed begins to ooze from Garcia like Psychedelic Syrup would ooze from a Cosmic Maple Tree… Even though I’ve experienced this moment a hundred times, It always seems as fresh and enlightening as it was the first time… The procession moves forward with the story teller in perfect form as I hear sounds and configurations of the acrobatic nature of the music against the absolutely steadfast delivery of the vocal… Every note is totally deliberate with a confidence that transfers itself onto all of us… It’s so loud and so clear up here that I can actually hear the absence of moisture in Garcia’s throat… As the teller is getting paid off in gold we hold our collective breath for the segment that sends us back under the water again…. As the mystic piece of mayhem turns round and round into this pile of auditory question marks, Garcia reaches in and grabs the string that causes the troubled and descending kite of confusion to abruptly rise and take flight once again… Mickey climbs the percussive ladder of ecstasy hitting everything he owns along the way and making that full Vulcan mode face… Yup, that one… He mercilessly backhands the cymbal that’s suspended on its stand from above, his right, our left… Billy’s eyes are so far back in his head I think he’s actually watching the effects this moment is having on his own brain… He’s chewing the hell out of something… INSPIRATION!!!!! We’re all moved brightly… As statements just seem vague at last, we collectively flash through pictures of the trials and tribulations that have been overcome to be part of this very moment beginning with the phone call and message on the hotline… The Post Office for money orders and mail orders… The job I left without notice for the 10th time… The parents that want me to be a “normal” son… The 16 hour trip to get here… I’m so high I think for a moment that this could all be happening inside of my mom’s vacuum… I shake it off… Some Rise… Some Fall… Some Climb… Holy Shit I’m here!!! All the stuff that happens to get here… The moments we talk about in the months between these moments are going on RIGHT FUCKIN NOW!!!! I can’t figure out!!! If it’s the end or beginning!!! As the whistle starts screaming The Band goes into the hook that is a staple to all of us… It’s nearly heavy metal as the Power of 6 Super Charged Souls channel the Power of every Force of Nature into the room with feedback screaming like the tires of a racecar on the tarmac… Weir is throwing chords into the stratosphere… I don’t know what Phil had for dinner but if I had to guess I’d say Dynamite and Lighter Fluid. He’s dropping bombs that shake the reinforced concrete floor we march upon… One leg bent… Right Shoulder higher than the left… Bill and Mickey appear to have 3 arms each… Their hands are a blur and their arms leave trails across their kits as we seem to roll into cartoon land… We understand the Steal Your Face Logo like never before as we’re certain the boiling grey matter of our brains are now crystallized… Half Red… Half Blue… 13 Point Lightning Bolt in between… Our molecules have been completely and totally reorganized… Airto Moreira’s sinister cackling kicks off one of the best drum segments of the year… It’s still getting stranger…
https://archive.org/details/gd89-12-30sbd.gardner.9754.sbeok.shnf
Dead To The Core,
Dean Sottile (pronounced SoTilly)
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