In 1992 Garcia had his second collapse (far less serious than in ’86), which once again caused the cancellation of the fall tour on the east coast (22 shows altogether). He had asked, in a GDP meeting a few months prior, to find a way to cancel that very tour because he was already feeling exhausted. These shows represented a quarter of their receipts, and the massive overhead of the GD organization ($500,000/month, according to Phil), made it almost impossible to do so without massive salary cuts or layoffs. He was overruled.
The band had settled into their post-Touch routine: they had three major tours a year and five or six shorter runs on the west coast/mountain region. They played 70-80 shows annually in front of well over a million people, in stadiums and sheds holding an average of about twenty thousand people each. Their audiences clustered in the mid-west and on the east coast, so the tours were far from home. The band-members were well past their days of communal living: they shared hotels, but offstage they were mostly separate. Garcia spent most of his time alone; Weir had his “hospitality suite;” Phil was focused on his family, who traveled with him… The atmosphere was all business, a realism born of twenty-five years of touring, the dependence of everyone in the organization on the band, and relatively commonplace incidents caused by rowdy fans.
The 17-date east coast tour in June was prefaced by nine shows in California and Nevada. The first, in Sacramento, was their annual Rex benefit; I listened to the second and third runs: three consecutive shows at Shoreline, followed four days later by three more in Las Vegas. It was the first tour where Vince Welnick handled the keyboards alone, Bruce having returned to his own career. Garcia wasn’t looking good, though Phil doesn’t think he was using (there had been an intervention in June ’91. Garcia had told everyone to get lost but had checked himself into a methadone clinic soon after).
The six shows are an example of the range of quality in the GD’s performances of that period. The beginning of the first run was disastrous in terms of Garcia’s instrumental contributions, but showcased redoubled efforts from the rest of the band. Aside from the intros, Jerry was way down in the mix, he bailed on a lot of his fills and solos, and wasn’t leading by any means. The rest of the band was, by contrast, very tight and intentional, the result being that the shows are not bad technically, even if Garcia’s apathy makes for painful listening. By the end of the second show, Jerry was more or less on point, though still in the background. On the other hand, his vocals were strong, especially in the second-set ballads (Stella, Dew, Knockin’…).
By moments, Vince Welnick was turned up louder than anyone else on the stage. To a large extent, his playing compensated for Jerry: he played lots of fills and was active in the jams. When Jerry copped out in the middle of his solo on Tom Thumb (Shoreline 2), Vince stepped in. While he was louder than necessary, he did contribute well: Cassidy (Shoreline 1) stands out: the jam was thoroughly lackluster but Vince played big swells, and while the rest didn’t necessarily follow him, it made things more interesting. The same goes for Music: the bridge jam had nothing happening, but Vince was giving it all he had. It’s worth poking around this run to hear what Vince was capable of. In particular: night 1 - Sugaree, Minglewood, night 2 - All Over Now, Way To Go Home.
This must have been one of the first runs when the band had foot switches for their microphones. There were multiple instances of band members starting a sentence intended for the monitors and then cutting out, or of missing vocal lines. At the beginning of All Over Now, for instance, the band was noodling their way in when Weir said: “Remember the […];” there was a beat after which they went into new the intro lick. We later hear Phil ask for “Everyone some more. Except myself.” At various points one can also hear audience noise cut in and out through the vocal microphones at the front of the stage.
The drum-space segments in those days averaged about twenty-five minutes each, with about 14 devoted to drums. Mick and Billy had diversified their sound extensively and were getting quite intricate in their arrangements. Aside from the long-standing Beam, roto-toms, rack-toms and gourds, there was a very wide range of MIDI effects: there was a passage based on slot-machine noises at Vegas 3; they opened two segments with whipping sounds; there were bells of all sorts, car horns, roaring wind noises, xylophones etc., occasionally complemented by that stereo whooshing effect (I never figured out if that was due to Healy or the drummers, but it is powerful). Finally, the ever-popular train air-horn made an appearance at both Shoreline and Vegas. I had not noticed the use of loops before, which served as background while they improvised on various other instruments. I have often felt that the drums segment was underappreciated. Mickey in particular, aided by Bob Bralove, never stopped experimenting with new sounds and rhythms, and those ten-fifteen minutes gave the two drummers a lot of freedom to play around.
The second run was a different animal altogether. There had been three days off in the meantime, but the contrast is striking. The overall mix was much more similar to what one is used to. Garcia up front, Weir more present than at Shoreline, and Vince relegated to a supporting role with a few solos (although the quality of his playing is just as high). Peggy-O (Vegas 1) is the first noticeable Jerry appearance but he doesn’t let up. His leads on the second-set Watchtower are just screaming, and he and he band remains in top form for the rest of the run. These are shows well worth having.
If I had to advocate one show I would pick night two; set one was high-energy, with Wang Dang, Maggie’s, Cumberland and Don’t Ease, and set two boasts, in part, Eyes, a great Way To Go home, Truckin’>Smokestack, Terrapin, a Spanish Jam during Space and a Knockin’ encore. There are other standout moments in the run: a “thunder” MIDI during LL Rain (Vegas 1), Jerry just howling the “So many roads” line, and a beautiful Attics (both Vegas 3). Steve Miller opened all three nights, and on the last he came in post-drums, notably for Spoonful>Other One>Dew. Even though the closer is arranged quite delicately, he contributed throughout and took a great lead in the big ending rave-up.
All nine of these pre-tour shows were sold out and after the last encore in Vegas, an announcer came up to thank the crowd for making this the biggest concert event in the history of the state of Nevada.
For many, 1992 was the beginning of the end. In the overall scheme of things, May 92 was the cusp of that period. The lineup was in its final form, and the range of quality between Shoreline 1 and Vegas 3 exemplifies the unpredictability that would turn off so many in the final years. On their good nights they were as good as ever, but there was a depressing apathy lurking in the wings. If it weren’t for a sort of masochistic completist obsession, I don’t think I would have bothered listening to more that the first set of the Shoreline run. It took Jerry a show and a half to get on the ball, and he didn’t tweak that volume knob for another week. And yet the Vegas run is dynamite, worth every minute, and there are other great shows in the ensuing tour, most notably DC, 6/20. The difficulty with those later years is knowing where to look. I’m trying to piece it together.
Up next: I haven’t listened to anything between ’71 and ’80 in well over a year. I recently grabbed five consecutive shows from August ’72 (one in San Jose and four at the Berkeley Community Center) so that’s next, while I wait for the Jamaica RatDog shows to trickle down the vine.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Garcia, Weir: Wavy Gravy's 50th Birthday
Wavy Gravy was born on May 15th, 1936 in New York State and grew up in Princeton, New Jersey. In the early 60s, he worked at the Gaslight in Greenwich Village, put Bob Dylan up for a while (Dylan began A Hard Rain on Wavy's typewriter), and then opened shows for Coltrane, Thelonious Monk and others as a "traveling monologist." He got involved in pro-bono work almost as soon as he got to the West Coast. He was part of the Berkeley/San Francisco scene in the sixties and remains an institution.
When he turned fifty in 1986, he organized a big "benefit for just about anything" and invited a dozen Bay-Area musicians to perform. The Dead, collectively and individually, had been doing benefits for Wavy since at least 1979, so it made sense that Weir, Garcia and Mickey would agree to perform.
The video I downloaded had the sets Bobby and Jer played that night. Garcia played four tunes with the inevitable John Kahn, none of which was particularly well executed: Ballad of Casey Jones, Jack-A-Roe (much too fast, with thoroughly ragged solos), Ripple and Goodnight Irene. That last one was stretched out a bit, and by the end of it, much of the crowd was standing (this was a seated kind of event, with short sets punctuated by Wavy's trademark bantering/bubble-blowing). Garcia has warmed up by then, but Kahn stumbled on the chord structure, which is a bit counterintuitive. With a quick "Thanks a lot", they left the stage.
Weir came up and started into Festival after a few cursory strums to test the sound ("Guess that'll have to do'). For his second tune he invited out a singer/guitarist named Kate McLean (who hasn't left any evident traces on the intertubes) to do a tune called My Blue Tears. Parenthetically, they pecked on the mouth when she left. Whether Weir is a peck-your-female-friends-on-the-mouth guy (which seems right, somehow), or whether they were an item, we'll never know. Naturally he threw Victim and Throwing Stones into the set, both of which were a bit frantic and lackluster. The last tune of the set featured (surprise!) Brent, on Hey Jude. The rendition was standard but they nailed those high notes.
The Grateful Dead were between tours; they had just done a few shows in Palo Alto and were looking at a month-long break. Weir didn't have a show slated until the end of the month. Garcia had a half-dozen JGB shows lined up, but they were mostly local, low-pressure gigs. Basically, both were in vacation mode and it showed. The show wasn't about them; they were really doing a cursory appearance for a buddy, so they could get away with half-assing it.
Oh well.
Next: May '92: Shoreline and Vegas. Wildly contrasting runs. Stay tuned!
When he turned fifty in 1986, he organized a big "benefit for just about anything" and invited a dozen Bay-Area musicians to perform. The Dead, collectively and individually, had been doing benefits for Wavy since at least 1979, so it made sense that Weir, Garcia and Mickey would agree to perform.
The video I downloaded had the sets Bobby and Jer played that night. Garcia played four tunes with the inevitable John Kahn, none of which was particularly well executed: Ballad of Casey Jones, Jack-A-Roe (much too fast, with thoroughly ragged solos), Ripple and Goodnight Irene. That last one was stretched out a bit, and by the end of it, much of the crowd was standing (this was a seated kind of event, with short sets punctuated by Wavy's trademark bantering/bubble-blowing). Garcia has warmed up by then, but Kahn stumbled on the chord structure, which is a bit counterintuitive. With a quick "Thanks a lot", they left the stage.
Weir came up and started into Festival after a few cursory strums to test the sound ("Guess that'll have to do'). For his second tune he invited out a singer/guitarist named Kate McLean (who hasn't left any evident traces on the intertubes) to do a tune called My Blue Tears. Parenthetically, they pecked on the mouth when she left. Whether Weir is a peck-your-female-friends-on-the-mouth guy (which seems right, somehow), or whether they were an item, we'll never know. Naturally he threw Victim and Throwing Stones into the set, both of which were a bit frantic and lackluster. The last tune of the set featured (surprise!) Brent, on Hey Jude. The rendition was standard but they nailed those high notes.
The Grateful Dead were between tours; they had just done a few shows in Palo Alto and were looking at a month-long break. Weir didn't have a show slated until the end of the month. Garcia had a half-dozen JGB shows lined up, but they were mostly local, low-pressure gigs. Basically, both were in vacation mode and it showed. The show wasn't about them; they were really doing a cursory appearance for a buddy, so they could get away with half-assing it.
Oh well.
Next: May '92: Shoreline and Vegas. Wildly contrasting runs. Stay tuned!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Brent Mydland's unreleased album, circa 1982
Brent Mydland was born in Germany in October 1952 and moved to California at age one. His father was an army chaplain and his mother a nurse. After graduating high school in 1971, he worked with Batdorf and Rodney, and when John Batdorf formed Silver in 1976, Brent went with him. On the recommendation of bassist Rick Carlos, Weir hired him in February 1978 to play keyboards in the Bob Weir Band (he would later play in Bobby and the Midnites), and when Keith and Donna left the Grateful Dead in early 1979, Brent got the spot. Over the years, he recorded with Silver, Eric Andersen, Matthew Kelly, and a California band named New Frontier. He also contributed vocals on Silvio (along with Weir and Garcia), from Bob Dylan’s unpopular 1988 album Down In The Groove.
Aside from the twelve songs Brent contributed to the GD catalogue, there are eighteen others to his name. He co-wrote nine with Barlow, one with Matthew Kelly, and one with Lesh/Petersen. The untitled album, recorded over the course of a year with Betty Cantor, and completed sometime in 1982, comprises eight songs he wrote exclusively. Tons of Steel and Maybe You Know figure in the track list, predating their entry onto the GD repertoire (the latter very different from the Dead version, a rocker with barn-burner guitar leads).
The album itself, fully mastered and ready, has a familiar early-80s-rock-album sound, with the bass and drums up front and punchy, arena-rock guitar and a lot of reverb. I could not find out who played bass or drums, but Silver’s Greg Collier handled the guitar parts. Brent’s keyboard work is not featured heavily on the album until the second half. He stands out most on the fifth track, “Nobody’s,” an anthem about rebellion and self-assertion, with lyrics complemented by a strong synthesizer intro, a big piano solo, and a motorcycle.
Most of the lyrics center on love and strong female figures, but there is a notable exception on track 7. “Long Way To Go” is the only ballad on the album, a song about the insecurities of early adulthood: “Outside you’re a winner/ But inside you’re losing/ Just a beginner/ With a long way to go.” Brent was 29 when he recorded those tracks, having joined the Dead at 26. He was already ensconced behind that great big beard, and insecurities would plague him for the rest of his life. Phil, who spent a lot of time hanging out at the studio, listening to the album’s development “with a big grin on his face,” would write later about Brent’s many demons, and the difficulty with which he handled the Deadheads’ criticisms.
The album, which Betty-Cantor called “the best of Brent and the best of me,” is a lot of fun, once you get past the shiny production veneer. There are a couple of awkwardly-worded lines, and there isn’t much in the way of flashy piano solos or big organ riffs, but it fits Brent’s character. He was a modest person, a very talented and diverse keyboardist, and a prolific songwriter. Though the record is relatively conventional, it’s worth a spin to confirm that Brent could well have fronted a band of his own.
Aside from the twelve songs Brent contributed to the GD catalogue, there are eighteen others to his name. He co-wrote nine with Barlow, one with Matthew Kelly, and one with Lesh/Petersen. The untitled album, recorded over the course of a year with Betty Cantor, and completed sometime in 1982, comprises eight songs he wrote exclusively. Tons of Steel and Maybe You Know figure in the track list, predating their entry onto the GD repertoire (the latter very different from the Dead version, a rocker with barn-burner guitar leads).
The album itself, fully mastered and ready, has a familiar early-80s-rock-album sound, with the bass and drums up front and punchy, arena-rock guitar and a lot of reverb. I could not find out who played bass or drums, but Silver’s Greg Collier handled the guitar parts. Brent’s keyboard work is not featured heavily on the album until the second half. He stands out most on the fifth track, “Nobody’s,” an anthem about rebellion and self-assertion, with lyrics complemented by a strong synthesizer intro, a big piano solo, and a motorcycle.
Most of the lyrics center on love and strong female figures, but there is a notable exception on track 7. “Long Way To Go” is the only ballad on the album, a song about the insecurities of early adulthood: “Outside you’re a winner/ But inside you’re losing/ Just a beginner/ With a long way to go.” Brent was 29 when he recorded those tracks, having joined the Dead at 26. He was already ensconced behind that great big beard, and insecurities would plague him for the rest of his life. Phil, who spent a lot of time hanging out at the studio, listening to the album’s development “with a big grin on his face,” would write later about Brent’s many demons, and the difficulty with which he handled the Deadheads’ criticisms.
The album, which Betty-Cantor called “the best of Brent and the best of me,” is a lot of fun, once you get past the shiny production veneer. There are a couple of awkwardly-worded lines, and there isn’t much in the way of flashy piano solos or big organ riffs, but it fits Brent’s character. He was a modest person, a very talented and diverse keyboardist, and a prolific songwriter. Though the record is relatively conventional, it’s worth a spin to confirm that Brent could well have fronted a band of his own.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Kreutzmann et al: "Tropical Jam", January 1st, 2010
Bill Kreutzmann lives in Kauai. He surfs, likes to grow fruit, he snorkels, he gets involved with various ecological groups, and he has a big garage in which he rehearses with any number of people who come through (he's currently working with Papa Mali). Around New Year's, he got together with Panjea's Chris Berry (congas, mbira, vocals), Michael Kang (guitar) and Patrice Blanchard (bass) for a few gigs titled the "Hawaii Blue Moon New Year's Eve Tour." (NYE show here). Panjea styles itself "more than a band," in that they are also "a non-profit organization, aimed at the liberation of the human species." Whatever that may mean metaphysically, musically, they are heavily influenced by african rhythms and percussion instruments. The music is mostly groove-based, with few changes, although Chris Berry's vocals are quite melodic.
The gig on the 1st was on Maui. They did two sets, though it sounded like it wasn't necessarily planned that way (someone came on to say they were coming back for another), and an encore. The sound was pretty polished (there were a few rehearsals at Billy's beforehand), even if there weren't a lot of intricate arrangements. I'm not familiar with any of the original material (catchy, rhythmic stuff), but it was mainly Berry's. One song ("Tamba") had a little introduction: it was co-written with Michael Kang after trip to Africa.
Kreutzmann naturally got a few shoutouts from Berry along the way, and they did three Grateful Dead tunes: Franklin's Tower, Aiko Aiko and Eyes of the World (Bill pointed out that Aiko Aiko was not really theirs). The Kang interpretations were original and interesting, though parts of Eyes were a little fuzzy. Kreutzmann played perfectly well throughout, in that distinctive style of his: he seems to play every drum at the same time, he uses a lot of cymbal, and he holds a very sharp, straight rhythm that almost feels as though he's rushing the beat. He also doesn't get fancy; there was one short solo, and the encore opened with a drum-led jam.
Bill did an interview with the Examiner recently in which he covered a lot of ground; he's got some studio projects coming up, he's thinking about doing a Rhythm Devils tour with Mickey (though he hasn't brought it up with him yet), and he has a gig coming up with BK3, with James Hutcherson replacing Oteil Burbridge. He's also real excited about all the grapefruit he's growing.
Up next, Brent's unreleased album. Finally.
The gig on the 1st was on Maui. They did two sets, though it sounded like it wasn't necessarily planned that way (someone came on to say they were coming back for another), and an encore. The sound was pretty polished (there were a few rehearsals at Billy's beforehand), even if there weren't a lot of intricate arrangements. I'm not familiar with any of the original material (catchy, rhythmic stuff), but it was mainly Berry's. One song ("Tamba") had a little introduction: it was co-written with Michael Kang after trip to Africa.
Kreutzmann naturally got a few shoutouts from Berry along the way, and they did three Grateful Dead tunes: Franklin's Tower, Aiko Aiko and Eyes of the World (Bill pointed out that Aiko Aiko was not really theirs). The Kang interpretations were original and interesting, though parts of Eyes were a little fuzzy. Kreutzmann played perfectly well throughout, in that distinctive style of his: he seems to play every drum at the same time, he uses a lot of cymbal, and he holds a very sharp, straight rhythm that almost feels as though he's rushing the beat. He also doesn't get fancy; there was one short solo, and the encore opened with a drum-led jam.
Bill did an interview with the Examiner recently in which he covered a lot of ground; he's got some studio projects coming up, he's thinking about doing a Rhythm Devils tour with Mickey (though he hasn't brought it up with him yet), and he has a gig coming up with BK3, with James Hutcherson replacing Oteil Burbridge. He's also real excited about all the grapefruit he's growing.
Up next, Brent's unreleased album. Finally.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Furthur, New Year's 2009
Furthur is evidently taking itself seriously. After the April-May Dead tour, Weir expressed his feeling that they needed to keep this up, and not go to sleep in between tours. The drummers, it turned out, would not be on board. Bill Kreutzmann, after fifteen years of resistance (at the first post-Jerry band meeting, he told the group he was not interested in going on with the Grateful Dead), officially called it quits even before his last TD gig at Rothbury. He plays with whoever he wants, whenever he wants: he has his trio, and does low-key pick-up shows like the one in Manhattan with Mike Gordon and Scott Murawski, or the “Tropical Jam” on New Year’s day in Kauai (more on that in my next post)… Mickey, meanwhile, went back to his myriad projects. Since June, he was featured on the History Channel’s Universe series, won the first World Music Grammy, was inducted into the Percussive Arts Society Hall of Fame, performed with Jimmy Buffet and most of the Global Drum Project at the Walter Cronkite tribute concert and spoke at the Smithsonian, to list a few of the things that made it onto his website. That left Bob and Phil to make a go of it.
Unheard of in the live music business, Furthur has begun a series of “live rehearsals,” which involves inexpensive shows ($25) at very small venues (225 people) with no expectations, giving them a chance to try out new and rehashed material in front of a crowd. There were two before New Year’s, and there are scheduled to be a total of ten in January. So far, no recordings have made it into circulation, but the setlists are available; they have covered a very wide selection from their combined catalogues, from very old GD tunes (Alligator, Next Time You See Me) to Phil and Weir’s respective side-project material (Silvio, Money For Gasoline, No More Do I), plus Ryan Adams’ Magnolia Mountain and Peaceful Valley, and Brent’s Just A Little Light. Fifteen years after the last Grateful Dead show, they are incorporating the music that the community has been living with into something more than a GD-nostalgia trip. It’s about time.
Most of the tunes listed above were brought out after the two New Year’s shows in San Francisco, however, so that the songs played there covered familiar territory (except for a breakout of Pink Floyd’s Time on the 31st). There were few surprises, either in performance or song selection. All the major standards were represented: Scarlet>Fire, Playin’, Eyes, Dark Star, Terrapin, China>Rider, Help>Slip>Frank, St. Stephen>Eleven (sans the William Tell bridge), Truckin’, UJB, Other One and of course Not Fade Away. There was an interesting sandwich of Born Cross-Eyed between Cryptical and The Other One, and a John-led After Midnight to end set two on the 31st.
The band is getting tighter. There is no more aimless noodle-jamming before sets and between songs. Some of the transitions were extremely tight. HC Sunshine>Bertha and Playin>Eyes come to mind (30th), and there was also a very interesting jam at the end of Cryptical, a blend of both Cryptical and the Other One (replacing the traditional drum interlude).
Things have not quite settled yet in the JK department. On one hand, he had some stellar moments. The absolute standout for me was Viola Lee Blues (if there is one song from NYE that you ought to hear, it’s Viola Lee, at least through Verse 2). Kadlecik broke out the old Garcia line for the intro riff, and just tore apart the jam between verses 1 and 2 in that same 60s style. His workout on Slipknot was terrific, and he stood out on the NFA closer. On the other hand, there were some definite rough spots for him on the more complex tunes (King Solomon’s Marbles, Unbroken Chain and the Eleven).
Both Weir and Phil are surprisingly modest in their performances. I didn’t pick out any moments of conflict between the two. Phil’s strength stands out in some of the more extended jams, like Dark Star or Viola Lee, where he leads the band around different grooves and tempos. Weir does less singing than I think he has ever done; six tunes (out of 18) on the first night and ten (out of 25) on the second. Vocal duties are spread out; Phil took a half-dozen tunes, John maybe a dozen, and the rest were either split up among several people or sung in harmony. I find the backup singers to be a good addition to the mix. The GD tradition has never been known for dulcet vocal melodies, Phil’s vocal chords are pushing 70, and Weir’s higher range is shrinking. The two backup singers (relegated to a spot behind the stacks) add a welcome, clear high register. I noticed it most on Truckin: Weir has been having trouble with the second part of the verse for several years, and having some strong vocals up there sustains the energy. It certainly breaks with tradition (Donna notwithstanding), but if they’re going to build something original out of their combined experience, there’s no reason not to shore up the weak spots.
Chimenti continues to add a lot of color and beautiful fills throughout. In his 12-plus years in RatDog and eight with TOO/TD he got a solid handle on the material, but he also has a knack for very sharp, melodic interjections. I wish I could comment on Joe Russo, but I have heard very little of his work and don’t have much of a frame of reference. He seems right on top of things. Jay Lane gets to jump around back there on percussion. I picked out some rain stick, a lot of tambourine, and reinforcement on certain parts and hits, but he hasn’t carved out a specific role yet.
I refuse to rate shows, as a rule. I will say that I thought the first two sets of the 31st were highlights, though neither of them will go down in history. I do think they are putting enough thought and work into Furthur to break out of the mold, and that having two guiding figures and one manager is much less cumbersome, both musically and personally, than the circus that was The Dead. I’m going to continue listening to these guys avidly just because, hey, that’s what I do, but I do think we can expect an interesting evolution here.
Up next: in the spirit of keeping up with all the Joneses, I’m going to write a quick post (much shorter than this) about the Kreutzmann/Kang show on New Year’s day before I do Brent’s album. I also came across a video of Weir and Garcia’s respective solo sets at Wavy Gravy’s birthday bash in ’86, which grabs me more than the ’92 runs I’ve been talking about. Maybe from here on out I’ll stick to announcing one post at a time, seeing as I change my mind every five minutes.
Unheard of in the live music business, Furthur has begun a series of “live rehearsals,” which involves inexpensive shows ($25) at very small venues (225 people) with no expectations, giving them a chance to try out new and rehashed material in front of a crowd. There were two before New Year’s, and there are scheduled to be a total of ten in January. So far, no recordings have made it into circulation, but the setlists are available; they have covered a very wide selection from their combined catalogues, from very old GD tunes (Alligator, Next Time You See Me) to Phil and Weir’s respective side-project material (Silvio, Money For Gasoline, No More Do I), plus Ryan Adams’ Magnolia Mountain and Peaceful Valley, and Brent’s Just A Little Light. Fifteen years after the last Grateful Dead show, they are incorporating the music that the community has been living with into something more than a GD-nostalgia trip. It’s about time.
Most of the tunes listed above were brought out after the two New Year’s shows in San Francisco, however, so that the songs played there covered familiar territory (except for a breakout of Pink Floyd’s Time on the 31st). There were few surprises, either in performance or song selection. All the major standards were represented: Scarlet>Fire, Playin’, Eyes, Dark Star, Terrapin, China>Rider, Help>Slip>Frank, St. Stephen>Eleven (sans the William Tell bridge), Truckin’, UJB, Other One and of course Not Fade Away. There was an interesting sandwich of Born Cross-Eyed between Cryptical and The Other One, and a John-led After Midnight to end set two on the 31st.
The band is getting tighter. There is no more aimless noodle-jamming before sets and between songs. Some of the transitions were extremely tight. HC Sunshine>Bertha and Playin>Eyes come to mind (30th), and there was also a very interesting jam at the end of Cryptical, a blend of both Cryptical and the Other One (replacing the traditional drum interlude).
Things have not quite settled yet in the JK department. On one hand, he had some stellar moments. The absolute standout for me was Viola Lee Blues (if there is one song from NYE that you ought to hear, it’s Viola Lee, at least through Verse 2). Kadlecik broke out the old Garcia line for the intro riff, and just tore apart the jam between verses 1 and 2 in that same 60s style. His workout on Slipknot was terrific, and he stood out on the NFA closer. On the other hand, there were some definite rough spots for him on the more complex tunes (King Solomon’s Marbles, Unbroken Chain and the Eleven).
Both Weir and Phil are surprisingly modest in their performances. I didn’t pick out any moments of conflict between the two. Phil’s strength stands out in some of the more extended jams, like Dark Star or Viola Lee, where he leads the band around different grooves and tempos. Weir does less singing than I think he has ever done; six tunes (out of 18) on the first night and ten (out of 25) on the second. Vocal duties are spread out; Phil took a half-dozen tunes, John maybe a dozen, and the rest were either split up among several people or sung in harmony. I find the backup singers to be a good addition to the mix. The GD tradition has never been known for dulcet vocal melodies, Phil’s vocal chords are pushing 70, and Weir’s higher range is shrinking. The two backup singers (relegated to a spot behind the stacks) add a welcome, clear high register. I noticed it most on Truckin: Weir has been having trouble with the second part of the verse for several years, and having some strong vocals up there sustains the energy. It certainly breaks with tradition (Donna notwithstanding), but if they’re going to build something original out of their combined experience, there’s no reason not to shore up the weak spots.
Chimenti continues to add a lot of color and beautiful fills throughout. In his 12-plus years in RatDog and eight with TOO/TD he got a solid handle on the material, but he also has a knack for very sharp, melodic interjections. I wish I could comment on Joe Russo, but I have heard very little of his work and don’t have much of a frame of reference. He seems right on top of things. Jay Lane gets to jump around back there on percussion. I picked out some rain stick, a lot of tambourine, and reinforcement on certain parts and hits, but he hasn’t carved out a specific role yet.
I refuse to rate shows, as a rule. I will say that I thought the first two sets of the 31st were highlights, though neither of them will go down in history. I do think they are putting enough thought and work into Furthur to break out of the mold, and that having two guiding figures and one manager is much less cumbersome, both musically and personally, than the circus that was The Dead. I’m going to continue listening to these guys avidly just because, hey, that’s what I do, but I do think we can expect an interesting evolution here.
Up next: in the spirit of keeping up with all the Joneses, I’m going to write a quick post (much shorter than this) about the Kreutzmann/Kang show on New Year’s day before I do Brent’s album. I also came across a video of Weir and Garcia’s respective solo sets at Wavy Gravy’s birthday bash in ’86, which grabs me more than the ’92 runs I’ve been talking about. Maybe from here on out I’ll stick to announcing one post at a time, seeing as I change my mind every five minutes.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
GD: Berkeley, June 14, 15, 16, 1985
Berkeley was one of those venues close to home that the band would hit a few times a year in between tours, like Oakland, Winterland, Shoreline etc. In mid-June '85, they did a three-night run there before heading off to the midwest. The run was billed at the band's 20th anniversary, calculated as the date when Phil replaced Dana Morgan Jr. as the Warlocks' bass player. Son of the owner of the music store where Kreutzmann and Garcia gave lessons, Morgan had been drafted to go to Vietnam and had returned with substance abuse issues. After a Warlocks show, over grass and cheap wine, Jerry had famously informed Phil that he wanted him to play bass in the band. He showed Phil a few basic things about tuning and fingering, and Phil played his first gig a few weeks later on June 18th.
As usual, the "anniversary" billing was not the band's idea. Somebody kinda mentioned it in a meeting but nobody got excited; the marketing people, such as they were, put together some posters and a press conference. The conference opened with the usual banter: "Does someone have a question? Is anyone running this thing?" The first interviewer noted that at the 15th anniversary, there hadn't been much excitement, that there was a feeling that the whole thing had been foisted upon the band, and he asked if the same was maybe true here. Weir quipped: "That's incredibly perceptive! [laughter]... It's no big deal to us. We're not sure that this is the date anyway..." Garcia added: "It's a matter of, ah, indifference." Someone else brough up the fans, and asked if the band wished that the audience weren't so blindly devoted. They generally avoided the question at first. Mickey: "They know what they want. We couldn't make them come." Weir: "Nobody's driving them in here with whips." But the questioner insisted, asking whether they didn't wish the audience were more critical and Weir conceded that it wasn't as challenging as it might be. (If you can do no wrong, why try? A few years back I read an interview in which I believe Gans said he felt like he could pinpoint the moment when Garcia had stopped caring: during Deal sometime in '82 (I don't remember the date), Garcia had stumbled his way through a very mediocre solo, and the crowd had gone nuts: sometimes it barely mattered what he played).
Finally a reporter asked what the band had learned in the last 20 years... True to form, Garcia replied: "Keep your ammunition dry" and Bill countered: "Don't swim with piranhas."
On Night 1, we got the first Keep on Growing, right after the PA malfunction. Night two had a double encore which opened with She Belongs to Me, a very nice version. They had brought that one back in April after 19 years, it would get nine outings in '85. The biggest surprise was on night 3: the return of Cryptical Envelopment. They performed the first complete That's It For The Other One since September 1972. This particular Cryptical was pretty ragged, but the song made four more appearances before being definitively retired on 09.03.85.
The overall energy of the run was high. Tempos were pretty fast, as usual for '85, more "rock and roll" speed. I always feel that those quicker tempos don't leave much room for thoughtful improvisation. The jam in Let It Grow, for instance, got some real shredding from Garcia, but it was more stacked atop the rest rather than constructively integrated with the other instruments. It reminded me a little of Trey, who can occasionally wail away at blinding speed without actually doing anything. The shortened tunes were most noticeable post-drums, when they squeezed in two quick songs before the ballad slot (Truckin'>Smokestack, Wheel>Gimme Some Lovin' and GDTRFB>Miracle respectively). While there were some dynamite solos peppered throughout the run, there were also some pretty sloppy moments. Keep on Growin' comes to mind (though it was the first performance), NFA, Midnight Hour. Jerry was inconsistent. He definitely sounded better than at some other times (maybe the late-'84 intervention and early-'85 bust snapped him back to order), and most of the time he was just as sharp as ever, but he just farted his way through a couple of intros and outros. The shows were fast, peppy, tight and yet flubby at the same time.
Brent really stood out, even though he always tended to keep out of the spotlight, and despite not getting a tune all weekend. He played some killer solos in CC Rider (14th), Big River (15th) and Samson (16th). His fills in Throwin' Stones were spot on and he added a terrific atmospheric vibe to the Lost Sailor jam. He stayed out for part of Drums on the first two nights, and played around with his MIDI effects.
I noticed a few new Weir lines, most notably in Lost Sailor; during the pre-transition vamp when he usually goes on about "Drifting and dreaming", there was a whole new set of raps: "Sails are down and your anchor's aweigh" "Round and round the compass spins" "The sun goes down and the fog rides in.../ guess that's a kind of freedom" "Don't much know and I don't much care/ why you wanna go, why you're goin' there." I've never heard those words before, and yet they didn't sound ad-libbed.
On another note, Dan Healy wouldn't shut up. The mid-80s are full of those soundbyte montages he would throw in before sets, and he loved that whispered-"Bobby"/smooch combination (there were a few of those at Berkeley). He often added the "Ha-ha-ha" soundbyte to the beginning of West LA Fadeaway, and occasionally there were some between-song contributions. This run saw a Healy Jam before set 2 on the 14th, a passage during Space on the 16th (Bobby/smooch, a belch...), but also some stuff in the middle of songs: first during Playin' on night 1, then twice in a row on the 16th, most obnoxiously right in the middle of Wharf Rat! As the band came to a very soft passage, a loud "can't hear you" came over the PA.
Basically, the run was pretty standard. Some highlights, some lowlights. Its merit, if any, is more in the erstwhile historical significance and the new/bustout tunes than in any objective qualitative attributes. They're not bad shows. They're regular shows.
Next up: Furthur NYE, followed by Brent's album. Then May '92 (Shoreline and Vegas runs). Then, who knows. It's a mystery.
As usual, the "anniversary" billing was not the band's idea. Somebody kinda mentioned it in a meeting but nobody got excited; the marketing people, such as they were, put together some posters and a press conference. The conference opened with the usual banter: "Does someone have a question? Is anyone running this thing?" The first interviewer noted that at the 15th anniversary, there hadn't been much excitement, that there was a feeling that the whole thing had been foisted upon the band, and he asked if the same was maybe true here. Weir quipped: "That's incredibly perceptive! [laughter]... It's no big deal to us. We're not sure that this is the date anyway..." Garcia added: "It's a matter of, ah, indifference." Someone else brough up the fans, and asked if the band wished that the audience weren't so blindly devoted. They generally avoided the question at first. Mickey: "They know what they want. We couldn't make them come." Weir: "Nobody's driving them in here with whips." But the questioner insisted, asking whether they didn't wish the audience were more critical and Weir conceded that it wasn't as challenging as it might be. (If you can do no wrong, why try? A few years back I read an interview in which I believe Gans said he felt like he could pinpoint the moment when Garcia had stopped caring: during Deal sometime in '82 (I don't remember the date), Garcia had stumbled his way through a very mediocre solo, and the crowd had gone nuts: sometimes it barely mattered what he played).
Finally a reporter asked what the band had learned in the last 20 years... True to form, Garcia replied: "Keep your ammunition dry" and Bill countered: "Don't swim with piranhas."
On Night 1, we got the first Keep on Growing, right after the PA malfunction. Night two had a double encore which opened with She Belongs to Me, a very nice version. They had brought that one back in April after 19 years, it would get nine outings in '85. The biggest surprise was on night 3: the return of Cryptical Envelopment. They performed the first complete That's It For The Other One since September 1972. This particular Cryptical was pretty ragged, but the song made four more appearances before being definitively retired on 09.03.85.
The overall energy of the run was high. Tempos were pretty fast, as usual for '85, more "rock and roll" speed. I always feel that those quicker tempos don't leave much room for thoughtful improvisation. The jam in Let It Grow, for instance, got some real shredding from Garcia, but it was more stacked atop the rest rather than constructively integrated with the other instruments. It reminded me a little of Trey, who can occasionally wail away at blinding speed without actually doing anything. The shortened tunes were most noticeable post-drums, when they squeezed in two quick songs before the ballad slot (Truckin'>Smokestack, Wheel>Gimme Some Lovin' and GDTRFB>Miracle respectively). While there were some dynamite solos peppered throughout the run, there were also some pretty sloppy moments. Keep on Growin' comes to mind (though it was the first performance), NFA, Midnight Hour. Jerry was inconsistent. He definitely sounded better than at some other times (maybe the late-'84 intervention and early-'85 bust snapped him back to order), and most of the time he was just as sharp as ever, but he just farted his way through a couple of intros and outros. The shows were fast, peppy, tight and yet flubby at the same time.
Brent really stood out, even though he always tended to keep out of the spotlight, and despite not getting a tune all weekend. He played some killer solos in CC Rider (14th), Big River (15th) and Samson (16th). His fills in Throwin' Stones were spot on and he added a terrific atmospheric vibe to the Lost Sailor jam. He stayed out for part of Drums on the first two nights, and played around with his MIDI effects.
I noticed a few new Weir lines, most notably in Lost Sailor; during the pre-transition vamp when he usually goes on about "Drifting and dreaming", there was a whole new set of raps: "Sails are down and your anchor's aweigh" "Round and round the compass spins" "The sun goes down and the fog rides in.../ guess that's a kind of freedom" "Don't much know and I don't much care/ why you wanna go, why you're goin' there." I've never heard those words before, and yet they didn't sound ad-libbed.
On another note, Dan Healy wouldn't shut up. The mid-80s are full of those soundbyte montages he would throw in before sets, and he loved that whispered-"Bobby"/smooch combination (there were a few of those at Berkeley). He often added the "Ha-ha-ha" soundbyte to the beginning of West LA Fadeaway, and occasionally there were some between-song contributions. This run saw a Healy Jam before set 2 on the 14th, a passage during Space on the 16th (Bobby/smooch, a belch...), but also some stuff in the middle of songs: first during Playin' on night 1, then twice in a row on the 16th, most obnoxiously right in the middle of Wharf Rat! As the band came to a very soft passage, a loud "can't hear you" came over the PA.
Basically, the run was pretty standard. Some highlights, some lowlights. Its merit, if any, is more in the erstwhile historical significance and the new/bustout tunes than in any objective qualitative attributes. They're not bad shows. They're regular shows.
Next up: Furthur NYE, followed by Brent's album. Then May '92 (Shoreline and Vegas runs). Then, who knows. It's a mystery.
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