For those that can’t find satisfaction anywhere since Garcia passed, there was Meet Up at The Movies. Those of us that were at Alpine that year remember a few things. We Bid You Goodnight caused God himself to cry for the next 2 days straight. The torrential rains began immediately following the first We Bid You Goodnight since December 31, 1978. I’ll never forget the opening lyrics and the intense amount of chills that coursed through my entire body. It was on a Monday and the last time my body was completely dry until some time the following Thursday. If there was ever a Navy Seal Hell Week on Grateful Dead Tour, it was Alpine 89. The first hour or so that followed our exit from the Ampitheater was pure ecstasy. Then came the realization that not only were you as wet as you were high but that, high was wearing off and wet wasn’t.

As a 45 year old man now, The Summer of 89 was My personal Summer of 69. My first Summer that I said, “Fuck It!” and left home with $40 and a backpack and hitched rides around the country seeing the Summer Tour in it’s entirety, all by myself. Well… Not really by myself, a bunch of you were out there too. It’s the Summer I really learned the depth and magnitude of the experience and had sufficient time to have the outer shells ripped off of me like an onion. The year I realized I was a stranger nowhere and could find commonalities and kindness anywhere. The year I realized that I can become everything and become nothing all within the same week. The Summer I realized I could have a mountain of riches one day ordering $50 Steaks to my room at The Ritz Carlton and having conversations with the crew at the bar and spend the following night eating grilled cheese and sleeping in the woods sharing deep thoughts with the homeless. I experienced all sides of life that Summer and I’ll never be the same because of it. It changed everything about my perspective on life. It was the best Summer of my life…

On to reviewing the Meet Up at The Movies… The Summer of 89 found the band in the finest form they had experienced in a long time.  As the show kicked off with Hell In a Bucket, we all instantly remembered what made The Dead, The Dead. I was right back there except dry this time. I should have gotten fully dressed and took a shower before the Movie to really bring it all back home. When the first notes of Sugaree get fired off I always get this indescribable and soothing calm that comes over me. Hearing Garcia’s voice is like being dipped in a vat of Cool Aloe when you have a sunburn. I was reminded of so many of those nights inside of venues when in the midst of the brain melting mayhem, you looked toward the stage and just immediately noticed Garcia’s right arm and elbow that always seemed to stand out like an angel’s wing amongst the backdrop of dim lights and his all black attire. As he ran through the solos, it was as if The drummers kept this enormous machine spinning while Brent’s sweet Hammond heaped coal into the furnace that was processed by the machine and shot out out as pure heat that flew off of Garcia’s strings like sonic bullets covering us all in the radiant glow of progressive and continuing enlightenment. The whole thing being pushed steadily forward by the incomparably deep sounds of Phil’s bass that was always there to perfectly cover any open spaces we might fall through.

The Cowboy segment never disappoints and 89 was certainly a healthy and dominant year for Weir. Then the official first set Garcia favorite of all fans born to wander the world and play the game of life through the eyes of a rebellious and unattached drifter, Althea. Every single verse in that song is a Masterpiece. Each one better than the last… It cuts you as deep as it heals you. It attempts to correct you as much as it encourages you never to be corrected. One of my favorite favorite Jerry tunes ever and I think a lot of us feel that way.

I like Victim now better than I did then. That’s all I’m gonna say. That tune really became the official Anthem for The Freaked Out Early Exit. I saw a lot of spooked out hippies head for the doors early at many a show during that tune. West LA made me realize that not only was Garcia my favorite artist of all time but that he was also my favorite Gangster! All of a sudden those Orthopedic shoes started looking a little more like some crisp white Gangsta kicks that may have been a gift from a friend name Rocco or Tony Montana. The whole thing just brimming with the sound that added so many characters and colors to everything the band played. I didn’t know if I should just keep smiling or just start crying….

When Desolation Row started I went to get a bite to eat… At home… I got home, boiled water, cooked some ziti, ate it and got back in time for the last 3 verses. When the song began, I noticed Weir appeared to have a runny nose. He actually had time to completely heal from a mild cold during the song. Deal provided everything required for an intermission filled with excitement and anticipation of more of the same high energy we were all jiving on…  I must say, I appreciated the 30 second Intermission as opposed to what felt like a week and a half of waiting for the band to come back on the night it actually happened. While I’m saying that, Is it just me or are songs actually much shorter than I remembered them being? It always seemed like Space was the hardest 3 hours to get through… Now when I listen back, it wasn’t but a few minutes… It felt like forever back in the day…

Box was always a favorite and consistently a good sign of things to come when the second set opened with it. The Foolish Heart was outstanding and as a Garcia tune, I always liked it from the first time I heard it. I felt that way about most Garcia tunes. Looks like Rain was made instantly better because Terrapin followed it. As the the band made their way into drums, we get a camera full of Kreutzmann who looked like an Epileptic that just discovered bread sticks at a salad bar. Billy could go way out there and absolutely had the best faces of any member in the band when he was really in the pocket. His eyes were so far back in his head I’m surprised he didn’t get jumped by Paramedics. I always have loved watching him. Mickey is just plain sinister on drums playing with all kinds of cool stuff back there. Shit gets weird during drums and you’d look up and Mickey would be hitting a Goat’s skull with the jawbone bone of a donkey or some kinda shit like that. What a treat!

Watching  Jerry and Brent interact is something else that brings tears to my eyes. If any one of us tried to stand between Garcia and Brent at any point, during any show, we’d melt faster than a chocolate Easter Bunny in The Caribbean sun. When those 2 were interacting with each other musically it provided more magical moments than David Copperfield’s Vegas routine. I’m eternally grateful to have been present for so many of those moments.

The big reason I wouldn’t miss this years Meet Up at The Movies was because of The Dew. If my Soul was a song, It would be The Dew. Watching Garcia during that was a mixture of euphoria and sorrow. Euphoric that it happened, sad that it hasn’t in 20 years and never will again.  If I was only able to listen to one song for the rest of my life, it would be Garcia singing The Dew. That night was a fine example of why. For a man that rarely moved more than a few inches during the course of an evening, nobody in history could hold 20,000 people in the palm of their hand like Garcia could. During the quiet moments, we’d all wait to breathe until it was most appropriate. Garcia smiling for one second on the big screen still sends cheers throughout Theaters from Los Angeles to New York City. I’d like to personally thank Carolyn Garcia for the last great Garcia years from the late 80s to the very early 90s. Mountain Girl was the one constantly positive piece to the Garcia puzzle. She made more of the sacrifices that had to be made, often at the expense of her own comfort, to care for Jerry throughout his life than anyone. He was as vibrant and alive through that stretch as I was personally ever able to see him. Often times in life, the bucket that holds your gifts is the same size as the bucket that holds your curses. For someone like Garcia, Balance was a point he passed by very briefly on his way to the next extreme. A talent like the world will only experience once in history, not nearly as impressed by himself as the throngs of followers that surrounded him. A reluctant leader better acquainted with his own shortcomings than any outsider would ever consider him having. It was all part of what caused us to Love him even more. Even from a Theater, over 25 years later, his star was shining as brightly as it ever has… He made all of us feel like he was singing directly to us. We all thought, at least a few times, he was looking right at us, he was just that engaging. He didn’t have to be flashy because his core emitted more Juice on a bad day than a costumed poser could possess on their best day. He had the attention of everybody and everybody hoped, if only for a moment, to have his… That was well worth the price of admission…

Dean Sottile (Pronounced SoTilly)
The Official Home Of Unofficial Grateful Dead News

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