3/22/73: memorial auditorium, utica, NY.

in august of ’69 the dead began their push into upstate new york at the woodstock festival. by 1970, the band’s itinerary included a number of performances due north of new york city. sam cutler had stripped down operations and had the boys touring with abandon. the goal was to get a paid, as many nights as possible. this included touring with the nrps and a new format, "an evening with the grateful dead," which featured acoustic dead sets most nights. the tour featured gigs at SUNY alfred/delhi, harpur college, and the U of rochester palestra. they ventured north of the hudson again in the fall ’71, touring in support of skull and roses (which warner brothers reinforced with a $100K worth of FM broadcasts).

the next time the dead traveled upstate was the spring of 1973. the tour began with three dates at nassau coliseum. to get through the week and onto the larger venues ahead, they had to at least cover expenses, and that meant playing at a smaller facility. the utica memorial auditorium was a typical multi-purpose civic center of the era. it was erected in 1960 and had a capacity of 5700 for floor events. for the most part, it was used for minor league ice hockey, and the AHL utica comets still call it home. the increasing size of the dead’s sound system in 1973 made one-nighters harder to justify, so the citizens of utica were lucky enough to get two nights of the good ol' grateful dead. thanks to the tapes, we know that the band absolutely killed it in utica—as they did most nights in 1973—and anyone from oneida county who got to see either of the shows was lucky indeed.

the tape of the second night from handshake city is plum archetypal ’73 dead. the 18 song first set is nearly two hours long and has a bit of everything. the short tunes are all solidly played, including my favorite take on the briefly performed loretta lynn song, you ain't woman enough. it's sublime the amount of twang garcia gets out of his strat on this one. some great first frame jams abound as well, with stellar versions of birdsong, china cat > i know you rider, and playing in the band. and there's even some playful banter in response to the local fire marshal (who apparently asked the band to make an announcement about keeping a fire isle clear, and that smoking is dangerous for you). in classic prankster style, lesh & garcia charmingly bait the municipal officer, with lesh leading the way with a stoned public service anouncement. a chuckling jerry responds: “yeah, try to keep your fires in the fire aisle.”

the back half of the show opens with an absolutely scathing big river. it's one of those early 70's versions that surely could have earned the quintet a place at the grand ole opry. a few cuts later, they roll out here comes sunshine, one of their new wake of the flood numbers. it's a good early take and hints at the jazzy direction they're heading in. billy tinkers with his snare and phil plucks a few familiar bass notes that signal the arrival of truckin'. like the europe '72 versions, tonight's take really swings. seven minutes in, we're treated to a sweet early instrumental version of nobody's fault but mine; garcia's open D solo is fluid and expressive, and adds a mournful feeling to the mix. the boys shuffle back to truckin' proper for a brief jam and then launch full tilt into the other one. it's a gorgeous performance with inspired jamming that draws us out of the basic theme and into a space of attunement, rich in complexity and ambiguity. kreutmann's drumming is other wordly throughout, pushing the ensemble deeper into the music. in time the other one theme returns, weir offers the second verse, and the band segues gracefully into eyes of the world. the second single from the album—released as a promo with mono and stereo mixes—eyes of the world is the perfect vehicle for exploration and thematic jamming. and tonight's take is no exception, with it's rich samba carioca feel, jerry's signature Emaj7 vamping, a dramatically framed coda and, as they did so nicely in the '73-'74 versions, it is elegantly paired with china doll.

the band isn't done yet—they still have two weir sung tunes left in the tank. sugar magnolia is rocked out with a classic extended finish, and the one more saturday night encore is more than acceptable. it's a fine ending to a dynamic show with many impossibly good moments. from a business standpoint, this mid-week utica stopover gave the band a couple of modest paydays during an already fruitful spring tour. their upstate history was starting to reap financial benefits and the fires would continue to burn in this region of new york for years to come.

culled from betty cantor jackson's 10" master reels with a digital transfer by jamie waddell, this tape purrs from start to finish.


https://archive.org/details/gd1973-03-22.136267.sbd.GEMS.flac16

8/26/71: gaelic park, bronx, NY.

there is nothing not to like about the dead in the summer of 1971. the band was absolutely raging, as evidenced in the high voltage shows at the hollywood palladium, chicago’s auditorium theatre (featured on dick’s vol. 35), and the yale bowl—all of which resurfaced when donna godchaux discovered the original reels on a houseboat that was owned by keith’s parents.

1971 is also the year when bootleg recordings begin to sprout up like weeds, and grateful dead bootleg LPs were selling like goddamn hot cakes. outside of gaelic park a number of freaks were peddling their pirated analog wares and the dead’s manager, sam cutler, had other ideas. the grateful dead hated busting people, but they were fed up with this growing scene. cutler and a posse security guards descended on the LP slinging hippies and informed them that garcia told them personally, “we want you guys to go outside and liberate those bootlegs.” and this is exactly what happened on this evening in the bronx, though word is that they would return many before the night was over.

in addition to discouraging bootleg sales, the dead were also cracking down on the tapers. one such taper who consistently eluded cutler and head roadie big steve parish, was marty weinberg. marty didn’t get caught, he was too crafty for that. the bronx native was in front of the stage on this august night, holding his microphone level to his chest, a Uher 4000L portable slung over his shoulder. marty had been taping the dead since their central park gig back in ’68. since then, he’d accumulated hours and hours of grateful dead music, taped in very high fidelity. marty’s field tape from this night is first rate, and i’ll link it—along with charlie miller’s transfer of the rex jackson soundboard recording—at the foot of this post.

the gaelic park show is notable for mckernan's superlative first set performance, highlighted by his recitation of empty pages—one of only two versions in circulation. this would be pig's last gig until december '71, and he rocks it throughout. big boss man and mr. charlie are both impeccable. hard to handle is a barnburner and certainly on par with 8/6 or 4/29; unfortunately, it would be the last time pigpen would sing the otis redding number with the dead. the remainder of the set is an exact balance of songs led by garcia and weir, including a ripping bertha, a solid sugar magnolia, an early rendition of loser with the soon-to be-dropped ‘sweet suzie’ line, and a top-notch sugaree, featuring impassioned vocals by jerome.

set two opens with me & my uncle and tonight's take is absolutely brimming with energy. from here, we get a succinct 10-minute china cat > know you rider with some bright and wily lead bass from phil. jerry's vox kicks out and bobby takes his customary northbound train verse, an anomaly that i believe only occurred once during garcia's tenure with the band. following workman-like versions of deal and cumberland blues, the quintet rolls out a 25-minute truckin' > other one that features some especially potent guitar playing from weir. this other one jam is classic '71, slashing and building to towering freaky heights. three quick tunes, including a tight uncle john's band, gets us ready for another fabulous jam sequence that begins with st. stephen, and then flows—with great alacrity—into a tasty not fade away > goin' down the road > not fade away sandwich with plenty of zesty riffs. after a lenghty break, the boys return to the bandstand and send the crowd home with a rocking johnny b. goode.

this is the last show the dead played featuring the original five members and they put their foot on the gas throughtout, delivering a shitkicker of a performance. the following week, carman moore wrote about the event in his village voice 'new time' column. moore referred to the band's output as "good music making," and the structure of the concert as "...a general crescendo, light at the beginning and heavy-groovy at the end—not a shooting star, call-the-law finale, just a heightened physical-emotional climate...the goods delivered as promised...sort of like good preaching in a church known to be a happy place." in other words, an ideal spot to shake your bones on a late-august new york night.

marty weinberg field tape:
https://archive.org/details/gd1971-08-26.aud.sirmick.35374.sbeok.flac16

jackson soundboard mix:
https://archive.org/details/gd1971-08-26.sbd.fixed.miller-rolfe.32351.sbeok.flac16

4/13/69: student union ballroom, university of colorado, boulder.

not much was going down musically in boulder in the sixties. the one band that did originate in boulder—the excellent zephyr, featuring tommy bolin and candy givens—often claimed that they were the only band in town. denver, on the other hand, had a more interesting live music history. early in the sixties there had been a modest jazz scene in the five points neighborhood, which hosted international acts such as louis armstrong and duke ellington. a number of smaller clubs like the exodus, caatacombs, and the cave featured up-and-coming bands playing psychedelic folk and rock on the weekends. in september of '67, chet helms opened a branch of the family dog on 1601 west evans avenue in an effort to compete effectively with bill graham. it was a very clever idea, providing touring bands with a paying show partway to san francisco. locals were greeted to a number of national acts including jimi hendrix, blue cheer, cream, buffalo springfield, and big brother & the holding company. unfortunately, the denver sheriff, with the support of the political establishment, harassed helms incessantly and the family dog closed its doors in july of 1968.

the grateful dead, always the pioneers, did venture to boulder in the spring of '69. the unique event seems to have been a throw-in following shows at the university of arizona and utah, before motoring to omaha and then on to a purdue university performance the following week. playing the no-doubt tiny student union was probably just gigging for food and gas money. lord knows the dead were used to this practice—a necessity of the road, and something they had done time and again since their early acid tests days.

a 25-minute (& incomplete) turn on your lovelight gets things going. the band takes its sweet time warming up, building to some solid pigpen crowd work to get the vibe on for the evening. after an abreviated doin' that rag courtesy of a tape cut, weir asks "hey, do you want it now or later?" the now is another dose of mckernan, and a palatial good morning little schoolgirl with some fat harp work by the pigger. the final 54 minutes of set one is very compelling. dark star kicks it off. the playing is stunning, and the small post verse tape gap—as the ensemble is accelerating toward oblivion—is barely noticeable. the segue into st. stephen is efficient and is met with animated applause. tonight’s version is spot on, with just the right amount of fuzzy weir guitar and TC amusement park flavor on his trusty vox super continental. the eleven that emerges has a relaxed, almost laidback feel. it picks up a bit at the climax and lands sweetly onto death don’t have no mercy; the group dynamic is textbook, with delightful, subdued guitar tones.

after almost two hours, the band takes a set break. when they return to the stage we get 14 minutes of alligator with a short garcia/drummers jam, some chanting, more jamming, & a we bid you goodnight theme before the tape cuts off.

recorded by bear and digitally transfered by c. miller, this boulder outing is aces from top to bottom. see for yourself.

https://archive.org/details/gd1969-04-13.sbd.miller.87378.sbeok.flac16/gd69-04-13d2t04.flac

3/24/70: pirates world, dania, FL.

periodically the dead ventured out to play isolated shows in distant parts. florida was no exception, and included appearances at the miami pop festival and the big rock pow wow—both of which i have previously delved into in this blog. deadlists shows a ticket for two different march dates, which raises a mystery, but for purposes of this post i'll accept this show as occuring on the 24th. the recording is also unusual for the month in being in wide stereo (the other tapes in circulation have mostly been in mono).

no matter what the date, the grateful dead did spend some time that week sitting around the hotel pool. and they did more than sitting. they wrote truckin,' one of their most iconic songs with robert hunter (who had joined the band for the brief tour). the story is that hunter had come to the conclusion that the dead needed a road song, and that he needed to see the road to write the song. hunter had been working on the lyrics for a few months, inspired by the band's bust in new orleans. their guitars were within grabbing distance, so garcia, lesh, and weir set music to the song in about a half-hour. a nifty morsel of GD history.

the tape cuts in during a rushed, but well played morning dew. weir says, "at the risk of being repetitious, we're gonna do another song in the same key," and they go with mama tried. good lovin' is the best of the month; it has a short drum solo, then garcia jams with the drums for a while before the others return. weir & lesh assume leadership while jerry takes a breather. this section is unique, with weir blasting away on rhythm before garcia comes back in a torrent, pushing the ensemble to a firey climax. a few cuts later-including a rousing electric don't ease me in-it's time for the big medley.

this dark star is notable for being entirely instrumental. a tapecut wipes out the first verse, and the lads bail out before the second stanza. it's also a fast, streamlined version, making it easy to hear how the band contemporaneously inhabits the music. the intro jam is brisk and focused; it soon cuts off, and the tape picks up again deep in the post-verse space. they soon reveal a few hints of melody, a jam rapidly materializes, and the music soars, unconstrained, in a stream of fecund, transportive motifs. garcia keeps pushing the group onward, his guitar lines cascading through the dark star riff, before slowing the tempo and trying out a new jam. but lesh is in a hurry to move on, and before they can return to the verse, he starts pounding out the other one intro riff. this is a very fast version, and they speed right through it, before garcia jumps straight into st. stephen. the take is raw and concise, with a hot guitar tone from jerry. in time, the drums beat out the introduction to a chunky not fade away—without much jamming—before they segue effortlessly into lovelight, with pigpen working his usual rap. lovelight would seem like the natural closer, but cowboy weir abruptly takes it into me & my uncle, and the show ends there.

https://archive.org/details/gd70-03-24.sbd.miller.32054.sbeok.flacf

3-22-69: the rose palace, pasadena, CA. with the paul butterfield band and jethro tull.

in march of '69 the grateful dead were primarily focused on finishing the aoxomoxoa album at pacific recording in san mateo. that being so, their performances were confined to easy weekend trips, which allowed them to make a little cash while still hanging around town to work on the record. this rose palace gig represents one of the few owsley recorded soundboards from march. jethro tull, on their first american tour, serves as the opener. they were a tremendous live band and must have given the crowd something tasty to chew on. the dead played second, which accounts for the shorter set. paul butterfield was a bigger name outside of the bay area, so he headlined the show.

although it's not complete, this bear tape is essential listening for fans of this period. the sound quality—despite being tracked in the concrete cavernous space of the now defunct pasadena club—is pretty sweet, with nice instrument separation. according to an observant attendee at the show, owsley was in experimental high gear on this night. he had three portable tektronix scopes far stage left, beyond garcia's double stack of fender twins, and was mixing live stereo.

the tape begins a few bars into good morning little school girl. tonight's take on the sonny boy williamson tune is dynamic, uptempo, and loaded with unrestrained discord. "that was da blues in A," weir declares, followed by a request to turn up one of the stage mics "on account i'm gonna be using it pretty soon, you know how it is." and with that, the lads launch into dark star. although this one clocks in at a mere 15 minutes, it is fully played, packed with thematic jams, peaks, and provisional weirdness. the drop into st. stephen is near perfect and it's clear the septet are really plugged into a groove. unfortunately, as is ofttimes the case with older bear boards, the tape cuts and we're plummeted into the final 4 ½ minutes of the eleven. the jamming is fierce and layered, 11 beats to the bar. the odd meter persists before an edgy b-flat drop signals a transition, and lovelight roars in like a five-alarm fire. all drums and jerry's guitar. pig marshals the vocal acrobatics, and the band is let loose to roam. then poof, it fades out at 12 minutes.

the dead played over 140 shows in 1969, and one hundred of these were committed to soundboard tape. this passadena gig isn't the crown jewel of the year's boards, but it is worth a visit or two. the dark star keeps me coming back, just for the sheer brilliance of the nuanced performance. magical? uh huh. and isn't that what makes us want to listen and relisten to live recordings of this band? sure as shit, it is.

https://archive.org/details/gd69-03-22.sbd.cotsman.8994.sbeok.shnf

9/20/68: berkeley community theater. ali akbar college of music benefit w/ace of cups, steve miller band, tabla master shankar ghosh, and vince delgado.

in 1968 mickey hart was studying at ali akbar college with the hindustani classical musician, pandit shankar ghosh. mickey would work on a number of compositions with shankar which included rhythmic cycles of 4, 6, 16, 5 & 7, teachings he would take to bill kreutzmann and add to the pair's repertoire. the influence of classical indian drumming on the dead's percussion breaks-including the improvisational rhythm devils segment folded into many second sets-can be traced to their early exposure to ali akbar khan, and to indian tabla players like alla rakha and zakir hussain. mickey would inlist rakha and hussain on his first solo album, rolling thunder. hart's second long player would join zakir, vince delgado, jordan amarantha, aushim chaudhuri, and a handful of other accomplished drummers as the diga rhythm band. in fact, one could easily speculate that the origins of diga are directly yoked to this fall of '68 berkeley performance.

the partial owsley soundboard tape cuts into a rough and tumble good morning little schoolgirl, which has an unusually raw feel—more akin to alligator. the revved-up number ends in a wash of feedback and some amusing mckernan howls. the banter that follows is hilarious. issues with the onstage mics prompt weir to inquire "what's happening?" there's no immediate reply. more microphone chatter ensues. "it's coming to life," rails garcia. "the first shock is free," he continues. in time, bear clears up the audio delivery matter and the band goes with st. stephen. the song has matured since its spring debut in st. louis, and tonight's version is compact and highly spirited. by the midpoint of the song it appears that the owsley kool-aid is starting to kick in as evidenced in jerry cracking up, and weir starting the wrong verse and singing over a laughing garcia—classic grateful dead shenanigans. consistent with the general practice, st. stephen jams into the eleven. tonight's take is short and layered with dense instrumentation.

as the eleven winds down the dead's amps are partitioned and two risers are rolled on stage between hart and kreutzmann. perched atop are shankar gosh and vince delgado. over the next 26 minutes, the four men perform a number of fixed compositions, taking a rhythmic journey through many talas cylces. composed by ali akbar khan for this occasion, the playing is hypnotic and riveting. there is nothing plodding or sloppy about it; this is a perceptive interplay between four astute percussionists who are listening and collaborating with each other. the energy is high and there is an alternating push of rhythmic patterns that contradict the tala and melodic structures that continually circle back to the fundamental scheme. at the end of the piece, the drumming becomes very quiet and the players begin to chant 'taketa, taketa,' before exploding into a final, powerful theka.

of all the 1968 grateful dead performances committed to tape, this owsley recorded fragment is one of the most unconventional sets you'll find. i know that a half hour of drums isn't everybody's thing, but where else in the dead's history can one find a percussive break with such distinguished guests in tow? the berkeley crowd's vibrant applause seems to readily acknowledge the exceptionalness of the event. and one can only imagine that the vedic sage-musician narada might have been smiling down in reverence and admiration, as well.

https://archive.org/details/gd1968-09-20.sbd.miller.115682.flac16

12-7-68: bellarmine college, louisville, KY.

1968 soundboards are few and far between, with over two-thirds of the shows unaccounted for. the first few months of the year are pretty well represented as the band was taping shows for anthem of the sun. after this, the spring and early summer is essentially a black hole for dead tapes until owsley re-upped as their soundman in june. the remainder of the year, though, is rather spotty, and it seems that many of bear’s tapes have disappeared. a couple of nice audience tapes fill the gaps but, unfortunately, there were very few people making field recordings in 1968. aside from the renowned mickey & the hartbeats matrix shows and some interesting garcia jam sessions, there's only a handful of tapes from the fall, and even less from the winter dates.

december 7 is notable in that it is the first archived performance with tom constanten. it's also the dead's first outing to kentucky (and the only time the band would ever play a gig at bellarmine college). you might ask what were the grateful dead doing at a small catholic college in louisville? well, the most reasonable motivation is they needed a stopover at the end of their fall midwest tour, and the 2600 seat knight's hall venue neatly fit the bill. either that, or the boys were dying to visit the repository for all of thomas merton's manuscripts.

the owsley tape opens with an abbreviated take on the dark star > st. stephen > the eleven sequence. the music flows with hints of free percussion & harmonics. TC's organ gyrates in the mix before the second dark star verse, st stephen is concise and energized, but the eleven derails due to a bad onstage echo. as the crew works out the technical issues, weir expounds: “nobody knows where present time is,” directly followed by a sedated promoter who provides stoned crowd control: “the curfew’s been cancelled, the kids are all in bed.” the tape cuts back in for the final four minutes of death don't have no mercy, which is fierce and can only make us wonder what the front end of the tune sounded like. jerry follows with a few words for the audience: "thanks, alot. we're gonna play a bunch more, we're not finished at all...and also you know you don't have to pay strict attention to us, we don't do very much that's funny. and if you want, you can dance. it feels good to dance. after a while you'll be pretty used to us." and with that, we're greeted with an adventurous 29 minutes of that's it for the other one > new potato caboose. the other one middle jam is really starting to catch and the energy is palpable. the cryptical reprise winds down delicately and the segue into new potato is seamless; tonight's take on the bobby peterson/phil lesh-composed tune is a bit more sloppy than in august, but it still evinces all of the anthem of the sun qualities with its intricate harmonies, rapid changes in tempo and meter, and instrumental weirdness.

billy kreutzmann is absent for the second frame. “one of our drummers, uh, broke down,” jerry explains. mickey adeptly covers his portion of the battery. the set begins with the only version of rosemary the dead would ever play to a live audience. it is an extremely quiet recording and you'll have to crank up the volume to really hear it. despite the levels, it's completely worth your full aural presence—a delicate, sensitive performance. he was a friend of mine is next and, unfortunately, is cut off right in the chorus. pig gets in the mix after this with a fine rendition of it hurts me too. his harp work is subtle and blends flawlessly with the rich tone of jerry's guitar. the set closes with an audience-requested morning dew, followed by a short, but sweet we bid you goodnight. “you’ve just been victimized by the grateful dead,” barbs garcia.

this one-off performance at bellarmine U captures the band in one of their most pivotal years for stage improvisation. both sets are loaded with boundary pushing compositions and the septet is in full experimental mode, ready to push many of their showcase songs to their fullest extent. despite the drops, cuts, gouges, and warts, i'm more than happy to be a victim of this late '68 recording.

https://archive.org/details/gd1968-12-07.sbd.miller.88674.sbeok.flac16