Tag Archives: Jerry Garcia

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

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Over the past few nights, we’ve been treated to some great moments in Dead Land that span the course of 27 years that have gone by faster than greased grass through a goose. With both events happening on consecutive nights, it provided a tremendous perspective for analysis and reflection. As a young brother that had been to about 100 shows by the Summer of 89, it was really the summer that changed everything since the journey began for me in ’85. This was the year I lived the Grateful American Adventure to the fullest. I quit my 14th job in a row without any notice in order to go see The Dead. I was 19, an electrician’s apprentice and left for work the morning of June 30th like any other day that’s ever been. Somewhere in my mind, I was aware Summer Tour started on July 2nd. At about 4:30 when my boss told me to clean up I made an instantaneous decision. I said, “You’re gonna have to clean up your own shit today Boss man, I’m done with this shit!” And just like that, one of the greatest decisions in my life, up to that point, was made.

Foxboro stood out for a lot of reasons. For one, it was hotter than a couple of raccoons screwing on a grill as evidenced by the fire hoses attempting to cool us all off. It was important to keep papers and powders in ziplocks as opposed to those cheap plastic bags with the flap. I wondered how many sheets and grams of X got collectively ruined by the summer hoses of 89. The band was tighter than a crab’s asshole and the scene was vibrant, completely electric and totally thriving. The impact of commercial success was evident but hadn’t yet become detrimental to the overall health of the community. At least that’s how the scene existed through the eyes of a newly credentialed full-time tour head that was 19 years old. The older Heads on Tour still had a problem with Brent because Keith was better and the much older ones had a problem with the folks that thought Keith was better because they were still upset about Pigpen’s passing. Me, I didn’t give a shit! I loved everything about the scene that was filling my life with awakenings and a sense of community where all of the bullshit and invisible barriers that existed outside of our community were washed away with a single Gooney Bird. Foxboro was the first show of my first complete tour in my time with The Dead. It was a tour that I went on with a backpack and $40. I lived on the lot most of the time. I camped in places that were never meant for camping. One night I’d be at The Marriott and the very next night, just another homeless dude trying to get some sleep in a park. There are so many tales from that first trip across the country…

As the years rolled by I was always puzzled by the fact that a SBD of that night never circulated at all. I think it was the only show in a bunch of years that there was absolutely nobody in the community that had a board of that show. In my decades of trading music, one of the first questions I’ve often asked people with really good collections is, “You ever heard a board of Foxboro 89?” It was amazing to me that it never got out. For this reason alone, there was NO WAY I was gonna miss this year’s MeetUp At The Movies! Maybe the SDB never circulated because there were obviously some problems with the sound that night. The Cassidy jam was great but the mix through the best of the jams was terrible. It was all Bob’s guitar and so loud that you could hardly hear Garcia over it. There were several moments like that throughout and it was obvious there were sound problems that may have gone beyond being able to repair or remix. I don’t think any of US cared all that much but to me it was fairly obvious.

The show began with Playin and it was an abbreviated version that didn’t go too deep at all followed by Crazy Fingers. Then the Wang Dang Doodle that was far better than I ever remembered. At the beginning of Wang Dang, when the camera closed in on Weir, I stopped mentally for a second and said to myself, “Is that fucker wearing barrettes in his hair?” I could only imagine the ball breaking that took place. I imagined Garcia looking at him with one of those Garcia faces kinda like, “Bob… Are those barrettes in your fuckin hair? They look nice Barbie!” Somewhere at a theater in L.A., Mayer was watching with something equally as awkward on his head and at the same time thought to himself, “Wow… Barrettes… Really cool man…

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The second thing that really hit me was Mickey on a kit with sticks. Mickey was one of the coolest dudes ever to watch playing a kit. His style was great and I spent a lot of time watching him. Mickey’s Hi-hat sound created something completely brilliant and colorful and unique into the mix. He played it like nobody else played it and had the freedom to develop that in such a unique way because Bill was always there to make sure it all remained steady. Healy did an amazing job figuring out how to project that crisp sound so loudly and clearly into the live mix. Of all the things I miss hearing, Mickey’s Hi-hat is one of them. A small thing that was such a huge part of the overall sound and experience to my ears. His runs were never overdone but infused so much incredible power into everything he played. When Mickey hit shit, it used to influence your physiology. Watching him backhand the cymbal that was suspended from above, to his right, was a trademark memory of the experiences. Brother would go into full Spock mode and take the Starship to a different level. Now he stands back there in his hallway of drums and beats on shit with muted kitchen utensils… Can hardly hear him. Can somebody get the brother his hi-hat cymbals again?

When it comes down to it, most of us are there to see Garcia some more. Every time Garcia appears on screen the entire environment changes. Garcia determined what kind of night it was going to be almost single-handedly. When Garcia felt good, everybody was gonna feel good. The Summer of 89 was the “White Orthopedic Shoes Tour”. There’s only one dude in the world that can come out on a stage with some shoes that were stolen from your grandma’s closet and nobody is gonna say a damn thing about it. I don’t know what it was about those orthopedic granny shoes but Garcia played like a motherfucker while he was wearing em!

There are different artists that are known for different talents. When it comes to expressions, Garcia could dance like James Brown from the eyebrows up. Nobody in music history comes close to Garcia when you talk about eyebrow movement and forehead wrinkling. His connection to everything he sang expressed through the movement of the top 1/3rd of his face is unparalleled. It was his connection to the moment that took all of US so much deeper into the experience. When he became disinterested it all became less interesting. To Lay Me Down was one of the best moments of the event for me. Garcia may not have had the greatest voice technically but his voice was the greatest that ever existed to me. There was a finish to his vocal that would get passed through his nose towards the end like a swig of top shelf cognac. It caused us to be drawn closer to the lyric and the sound and drew us all closer to a man that we never really knew. The chances to see all of this on pro shot video is something that I wish the folks at GDP would give us more of. There’s an abundance of video in the archives that we’re all dying to see. Come on y’all, give us some more video! I’m grateful for the stuff that’s been gathered on YouTube and I’m amazed by how much of it exists but you can’t compare it to the collection that is sitting in the archives.

I remember being pretty surprised that night when they opened the second set with Friend Of The Devil. It’s fair to say nobody guessed that was gonna happen. If somebody did make a guess like that you’d probably assume they didn’t know shit about The Dead. The up-tempo version was outstanding and surprisingly, it never happened like that again. Phil seemed somewhat detached from the experience to me. Not nearly as invested in it all as the others seemed to be. Maybe it was me, maybe it was the Calvin Klein jeans… Somebody should’ve scored him a pair of white orthopedic granny loafers maybe… Truckin was tremendous and the best of it for me was when they were winding up the tension on the jam at the end. That jam was grabbing pieces of cosmic debris from all over the universe and rolling it up into this massive burrito of energy when you see Garcia and Bill stuck in the moment with each other just blowing their own fuckin minds! They both had the face on like they were completely responsible for stealing their own damn faces right off their heads! It was a fantastic moment captured forever. He’s Gone and the jam that followed was a mind melter and the vocal jam at the end gave us the bug-eyed Brent we all loved so much. I don’t what was in Brent’s soup but that shit kicked in pretty hard toward the end of He’s Gone. Weir had already left the stage assuming Drums when Garcia started Eyes. Weir came running back to rejoin the movement. I loved when shit like that happened and it only comes back into memory through the videos.

The Dear Mr. Fantasy-> Hey Jude was a moment that put an enormous exclamation point on the evening. I’ve heard dozens of bands play that tune but none has ever come remotely close to what the Dead made out of that tune. The connection between Garcia and Brent throughout that exchange caused me to miss both equally at that moment. It’s been rumored that early experiments involving vaporizing pot first took place when a bag of weed was sitting on the keyboard between Garcia and Brent while they were playing. It’s clear that nothing could enter that field of intensity while they were engaged in a tune without being completely vaporized. At one point in the Hey Jude, there were so many simultaneous musical orgasms going on it was nearly impossible not to start smoking and looking for ice cream afterward. The short clip of Garcia throwing a power chord over his head, almost windmill style, while fully immersed in the magic that was taking place was well worth the price of admission on its own.

Sugar Mags was great as always and closed a phenomenal night at the Movies. Those were some of the last of the truly great years for The Faithful and The Grateful. I always loved Mighty Quinn encores and although it rarely provided any super moments it has always been a tune that sits in just the right pace and just the right place for dancing our way out of the night. That tune always guaranteed a joyous march back to the parking lot.

Fast forward nearly 27 years and some of our favorite musicians along with a few new ones are playing on Jimmy Kimmel. It seems to me like Dead & Co are taking it up a notch. They’ve become comfortable enough with the material and each other to really start letting it go a little more. I dig Weir and John trading verses on some tunes but I really think they should let Oteil into the mix. Oteil can sing and his voice has some dynamics to it. Talking about John’s vocal dynamics is like talking about my height. It’s easier to talk about the absence of it than the presence of it. John’s guitar playing seemed more confident and aggressive than I’ve heard it before which makes the lack of any real feeling in his singing more tolerable. Don’t get me wrong, I like what John brings to the table more than any of his predecessors since the Grate Old Days it’s just that vocally he seems stuck in a single octave. He doesn’t go higher, he doesn’t go lower, he just sits in that one place on everything he sings. The place he sits is ok and I can dig it but it goes nowhere from there. I hope he tries to push his vocals a little more in the months ahead.

Oteil has returned to the Afro Punk days of his youth and is wearing the hell out of a Mohawk that will be called the “O”Hawk from now on. Looked like Mr T pawned his jewelry and bought a bass with the proceeds. Oteil brings his all every night. The future of our music is safe in the hearts and hands of guys like Oteil, Jeff and John. The energy that they are bringing to this whole thing is creating a heavy buzz as we move towards Summer Tour in Dead Land. It’s really apparent that these guys were happy to be back together doing what they do. The ingredients are just right with this batch of artists.
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Bertha was a made for TV version yet still managed to be the best thing you’ll catch on a late night TV Show all year. The Scarlet Fire wasn’t a made for TV moment as Dead & Co blasted 15 minutes worth of fury at those that were in attendance. Althea was great musically and the jams were full of fire and life. NFA sends everybody home radiating The Love that this group of musicians has been perpetuating for over 50 years now. The chemistry is growing with this group and I imagine this Summer is going to provide many memorable moments. They won’t be moments like the one we revisited at the movies this week but they’ll be moments none the less. The current incarnation of the band is the most exhilarating one I’ve witnessed since Garcia.

In other news, Miley Cyrus posted a picture on Instagram of herself wearing a Grateful Dead Shirt. It became immediately apparent who Mayer last slept with. As soon as he’s planted his seeds anywhere, Grateful Dead shirts pop up. It’s like a crime scene that doesn’t need an investigation. Either that or one pop star woman at a time is starting to dig the Dead… You make the call… Poor dude won’t be able to keep anything under cover. We all remember last year’s conquest in the Gucci Dancing Bear dress. She’s like a steam locomotive, rolling down the track. It must be challenging to be part of an outside->in Pop world and then enter Grateful Dead Land where internal contents are abundantly more relevant than external accessories. Many a self-righteous personality have been melted down in the intense mirror of the soul that our favorite musicians have always provided. It’s easier to pass through it briefly than to stick around and let the process run its course.

I listen with a critical ear and commentate with some sarcasm but I could never thank the folks that have kept the mother rolling all these years enough. My life has been made astronomically better through the experience and environment that this community and culture has given me. Whether past, present or future, I’ll forever be Dead To The Core. Less than a month until we all use any bathroom we want in North Carolina!

Love You Long Time!

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