Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: fox theater

What Does The Fox Say?*

Continuing in the vein of yesterday’s admittedly over-enthused and amply-worded jeremiad (would a jeremiad about the Dead be a Jerrymiad?) about an overlooked gem, TotD returns to plains well-plowed: May ’77, specifically 5/18/77 from the Fox Theater in Atlanta, which–going strictly by the historical record–was one of the Dead’s power places that Phil was always ranting about before demanding you come dowsing with him again.

fox theater

Opened two months after the Depression hit and facing bankruptcy two years later that, the Fabulous Fox was always a mess, but she was too beautiful to let die.

Fox Theatre Atlanta Georgia USA

Represented by a pick from both Dick and Dave (the only venue with that achievement to its name), the Fox played host to almost a dozen great Dead shows. The 18th is one of them: check out the sinuous Jack-A-Roe and feel free to shake your booty. Shake anything you want: you’re God’s perfect little angel and your money’s no good here, you know that, Uncle Ashtabula.

Time for bed?

Yes.

*I couldn’t help myself.

The Matrix Revealed

We’ve got to talk about these matrix mixes. I just went through about eight of them, one after another, the digital version of throwing a paperback across the room after an egregious sentence. Etree is full of the damn things, and fuck me if they’re not a solid 95% unlistenable.

In Bill Graham’s great posthumous oral autobiography (seriously), he tells a story about the light show folks trying to get more power and/or control and/and money. He laughed at them. “If you don’t show up, the band goes on; if the band doesn;t show up, you don’t play. The light show is an appendage! ZAYNE HASHEN MEIN TUCHAS, TU ZAF CHARATZIM MITTEN DER PICKLESCHMECKER! “

In a Matrix, the crowd is the light show: it’s there to complement, to heighten the drama, to punctuate and underscore. It can never become a distraction. Rising, falling, cheering, and occasionally singing: all as one, a great human sweaty glob of instant feedback. Technology (and, let’s not forget the hard work and love that Jeffrey Norman and the whole crew do) now allows for a clarity, a precision to the sound that can border on the sterile.

It’s easy to forget that these shows took place in buildings, buildings just chock-full of people going through some real heavy shit, man.

So when David Lemieux announced that the next Dave’s Pick would be November 30th, 1980 at the Fox Theater in Atlanta, part of the big news was that this would be the first (?) official release that could rightly be called a matrix and from the small (for the Dead: it’s still a two songs that take up 20 minutes) snippet of the finished product, they’ve just killed it. Go listen to the drums, how you can hear them playing not just in the band, but in the room. They sound like they are fixed in space in a way that hasn’t been so clear before. The crowd cheers them on at every turn,

As opposed to–and I’m not making this up–one I listened to (briefly) where the matrix was where a compressed-sounding SBD met an AUD that was just dudes shouting out one another and yelling out names of songs that could never in a million years be played at that moment in the show. (Seriously, Mr. Bro-tato Head? You’re shouting for Wharf Rat in the middle of the first set? Go jerk off your uncle.)

 

p.s. It doesn’t take more than half-a-dozen comments on the announcement page before someone starts someone starts whining that, while the show’s from the ’80’s, it’s not from far enough in to the decade. Bravo.

 

Fox, No Lady

How about a sammich in which The Other One was the bread, fresh-baked and straight from Big Momma’s oven of love, and Sittin’ on Top of the world was the meatiest meat you’d ever tasted? Would that be something you’d be interested in?

And what about a 20-minute Good Lovin’ wherein Pig completely forgets what song he’s singing and cues the band back in with his legendary cry of “SHE GOT BOX BACK NITTIES, CRAYFISH AND MORMON MICE!” and then, a little sheepishly, trails off as he realizes it’s not Lovelight, and if you start screaming about Nitties (box back or otherwise) in every single song, large men in uniforms come and get you

What if there were an early Playin’ without the great swaths of Doom Jam that song came to lovingly contain? (And, no Donna wail, be that for good or ill.) A Brokedown with a Garcia solo that will denude your bush, no matter your ethnicity?

PLUS, in a welcome repeat from the spectacular Felt Forum run the previous week, Pig wishes everyone in the house (and out there in Radioland) a rockin’ Xmas with Chuck Berry’s Run, Run Rudolph.

12/10/71 at the Fox Theater on St. Louis. Leave it on.

P.S. And I neglected to mention (because you and I both know that I post these recommendations while I’m not even halfway through the show, so I hadn’t heard it yet) that during GDTRFB, Bobby plays China Cat, like fourteen times and it’s just wonderfully wonderful.

On A Spring Roll

Now, as you know, Blair Jackson and the rest of Big Dead are keeping things from you, important things: the keys to the Vault, the fact that “Mickey Hart” was played by different actors before and after the hiatus, etc. Why is this? Why does Blair Jackson hate the Dead?

No. You’re not going to do this.

Is it because he’s from Kenya?

Please: not again.

Is it because a mere TEASPOON of his liver, eaten, would produce TREMULOUS LUBICOSITIES OF THE UTMOST in the recipient?

Are you going mad or insane? There is a difference, and I can live with mad for now.

Ah, right: Blair Jackson is Yog Soggoth, the Ancient Anus with many Eyes!

Good, just mad.

Anyway, Blair Jackson is doing this thing over on Dead.net about listening to ten shows in a row so I’m going to beat him by doing the entire Spring ’78 tour because god help me, I need a girlfriend. We join in progress with 4/10/78 from the Fox Theater in Atlanta, GA.

Listen to the way Garcia snaaaaarls Los Angeles? Gimme Norfolk, Virginia. Tidewater 4-10-0-9…

And then stick around for the off-kilter BEW. Both drummers have  been exploding with goodness and syncopation and tomfoolery this tour. And Keith is fucking killing it, but then, on a dime, his playing turns awkward and overpowering and there is a reason they rarely played It’s All Over Now.

And then check back in for Music Never Stopped which is such a train wreck that Harrison Ford is leaping in front of it.

P.S. After full listening, I give this show 3/2 thumbs up and a pat on its ass: “Good job,” I would say to it, were it here, even though it was goofy and sloppy and all over the place–they rocked the Fox with a crackling, coked-up energy. Proud of you!