3/21/70: capitol theatre, port chester, NY.

another superb ken and judy lee field recording, produced when the pair were working at the port chester venue. the original audience master cassettes (4 Ampex C361-90) were recorded on a Sony TC124 with unknown dynamic mics, spread approximately 25-30 feet across the balcony. no noise reduction was applied.

from february 1970 to near the end of 1971, the rock promoter howie stein did his best to make the capitol theater into the westchester version of the fillmore east. like the fillmore, the capitol was a converted movie theater. it was really a better place to hear music than to see a film. it was much smaller than the fillmore, so it was hard to get a bad seat. in addition, the staff was a little less uptight about dancing and milling around so concertgoers could usually get up and dance. the sound system was excellent, and rarely did technical difficulties impair the music. and the stage crew, like the fillmore's, knew what they were doing.

of the two performances on this evening, it is the late affair that most heads point to and rave about. i’d like to direct your attention to the early set, which is equally as satisfying, albeit a tad shorter. the tape opens with the first recorded version of rufus thomas’s walkin' the dog since ’66. it's a playful extended take with alternating vocals between weir, pigpen, and garcia. a rousing me & my uncle follows and afterwards it’s clear that the crowd is animated to the point that they won't shut up. garcia: "calm down, you unruly freaks." the cacophony of audience noise continues, and the boys roll out the last taped version of death don’t have no mercy until 1989. the tune completely quiets the crowd as the band draws all attention into the music.

the quiet awe is short-lived before more shouting and obligatory calls for st. stephen ensue. phil breaks the ice by asking for an E-flat for tuning purposes. jeering and laughter follow, then more song requests. weir stokes the fire by remarking that they don't know the names of their own songs, and that everything the audience is shouting towards the stage is completely meaningless to the band. the motley sextet’s riposte to the mutinous crowd is a solid and compact good lovin,' followed by a peppy dire wolf (with tasty intro guitar licks, most likely added during the workingman’s dead sessions), and a sultry big boss man that allows the pigger to stretch his legs nicely. next up, we get the last known version of mark spoelstra's he was a friend of mine and it's a beautiful send-off at that. garcia's outro solo is long and articulate. goddamn lovely, really.

the early show ends with a unique 19-minute sequence of viola lee blues > the seven > cumberland blues. viola lee gets quiet and lyrical before exploding and melting into fiery immolation mode. the soundscape shifts, threatening to redetonate, before garcia coyly transitions the outfit into the second and final taped version of the seven, which serves as a perfectly weird bridge to the cosmic bakersfield of cumberland.

https://archive.org/details/gd70-03-21.early.lee.pcrp.20184.sbeok.shnf