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

Tag: spring ’78

Wrapped Around The Manzanita

It is time, ladies and perms, for another installment in Almost Great Shows, but I’m gonna be honest: this one’s special. Like, an aide from the state helps you with lunch special.

5/5/78 from Dartmouth College is our choice tonight. “I’ve never heard of that show, TotD,” you say. Well, there’s a reason: it’s just all over the place. The three singers seem to have invented a new key each (perhaps j minor) for Lazy Lightning, Garcia is so casual with the lyrics in Candyman that it sounds like he’s being sarcastic, and Ship of Fools is an absolute Hall of Fame Trainwreck.

About halfway through the song, someone gets a half-bar off, either Garcia or the rest of them, which sounds easily fixable if you’re not the Grateful Dead, but unfortunately they were, at the time, the Grateful Dead and instead of pausing a little bit or whatever, Garcia and the band play tug of war with the melody and the chords for the rest of the tune. Best part is, the mikes pick up all the sniping and bitching at one another afterwards.

But a valley always leads to a peak, and they burn through a great Estimated>Eyes into a common, yet beloved (by me and only me. it seems) feature of the Spring ’78 season: Full Band Drums!

There’s fuck-ton of caveat emptor on this one. Maybe even a smidge of Abandon all Hope.  As usual and as with all shows that I deem to be not up to my snuff (and you all know that my snuff is high as fuck), I instantly stopped listening once I was done, had rewound the really good bits, written around four e-mails discussing it, and rustled up 300 words to tell you what was wrong with it.

So, you know: there.

 

p.s. Even if you don’t have time for the whole show, even if you don’t like 1978, even if you’re leg’s caught in a bear trap: listen to Garcia sing Stella Blue. And then listen to him play. Listen to him dust off those rusty strings.

Dave's? Rave!

Today is Inside Day here at Fillmore South: it is approximately 35 billion degrees out. Fahrenheit. Of course, it’s Florida, so it’s sticky as a Tunisian’s ballsack and it feels about 10 degrees hotter than that. It is so hot that immediately outside my door, nuclear fusion is taking place. E is equalling the shit out of M, C, and Squared out there.

It is a good day to stay in, crank the air conditioner until it shudders with effort–damn the electric bill: I want to need a blanket in August!–and listen to the newest Dave’s Pick. Big number 7, from Normal, IL, from my beloved Spring ’78 tour. Perhaps you purchased it; perhaps the show just fell out of a truck onto your hard drive: no matter.

This release is a triumph for everyone involved: the sound superior to many of the Big Ticket Box Sets, and other multi-tracked recordings.  For a 35-year-old tape that was made as a simple document of the evening, this thing is as present as if it were recorded yesterday. The drums–THE GODDAM DRUMMERS–are especially clear, each cymbal and tom in its own space.

Garcia is heavy on the Mu-Wah-Funky-Wah-Pedal (I’m not a guitar tech: you know the thing I mean) and Bobby won’t put down the goddam slide for a goodly portion of the show (and makes the otherwise-fun Werewolves of London encore nearly unlistenable) and Keith is (briefly) back to his old ways, a little lighter on the touch than Fall ’77 and he’s listening at this show in particular.

PLUS an all-time version of Passenger, Bobby and Donna ad libbing in Music Never Stopped, and…well, shit, the whole first set is Hall of Fame. Go and listen.