Download
Series 3 review
10-26-71 Palestra
Review : by Ramble
On Joe
Long represented only by a frustratingly short and piano-less DICKS
PICK #2, this era finally gets its due in the Download
series, delightfully showcasing the band's enthusiasm for both their
new material and their new keyboardist. Sure, there's a bit of hiss,
but the band is well-balanced, the vocals are more than usually
accurate, and the performance energy is good. Add in a few stage
comments, and you have a show well worth hearing; consider the
scarcity factor, and it seems almost essential.
"Bertha" starts
the show and immediately gives us some of the best and worst points:
on the plus side, there's Keith's obvious enthusiasm; on the minus,
Jerry's guitar is so flatly out of tune that it distracts his
singing (we can hear him turning back to the mike at the beginning
of each line). I'm guessing that it's because he had just switched
to the Fender Stratocaster, which is well-known for being hard to
keep in tune. Incidentally, I picked up my Strat to play along and
had the exact same difficulty -- it's the Strat's floating bridge.
No surprise then that, despite being so closely modeled on the Strat
for scale & setup, the Irwin guitars used a fixed bridge
instead.
But back to the show:
"Playing in the Band" jumps out the gate with all the
intensity of a 1972 version, leaving no surprise that it should
shortly become a major jam vehicle. Very auspicious indeed, and
worth respinning even in this short version. Meanwhile, there are
stage comments on how hot the venue is, and Pigpen's absence -- this
latter not so melancholy as the summer '72 announcements, since we
know he will indeed be back :-) -- and the former yet another reason
for a Strat to go out of tune.
Through the show, we will
also hear comments on the front-row crush, which we can gather was
(as always) to little avail.
"Sugaree" and
"Me and My Uncle" are fine; "Sugaree" especially
so to these ears (I admit being partial to this song). Equipment
trouble almost has Bobby telling us a story, but instead they
soldier on into what must be the fastest-ever "Tennessee
Jed" -- even those tired of this song should find their toes
tapping.
"Cumberland"
proves to be another surprise, showing us that 4/8/72's rendition
was no fluke. This one might be just as good -- maybe even better:
well-jammed out, and not one second wasted. "Cold Rain" is
on the slower side; whether intended or accidental, Jerry exploits
this for some passionate singing -- even if it means not playing the
guitar for a moment here or there; a nice rendition. The disc closes
out with a "Loser" I was inclined to skip. That would have
been a sad loss on my part, for the guitars alone: Bobby's fills are
unendingly inventive, and Jerry's pinched-harmonics guitar solo
really hits the heartstrings. Plus, of course, it's still a
"sweet Susie" rendition, and Jerry definitely gives this
song the belt that it needs to go over. All in all, no reason to be
missed!
"El Paso" is a
large city, situated astride the Rio Grande at the juncture of
Texas, New Mexico, and the Mexican state of Sonora. Marty Robbins
once wrote a song about it.
One of the pleasures of
Fall '71 is hearing nascent performances of "Comes A
Time", typically tossed like an afterthought late into the
first set. Here Phil is more audible than previously, which almost
distracted me from the fact that there is an extra verse not heard
later:
"The words come out /
Like an angry stream You hear yourself say things you could never
mean When the heat cools down / And you've found your mind You've
got a lot of words you've got to stand behind"
For my money, this ranks
with the early version of "Brown-Eyed Women" on DICKS PICK
35, and increases the historical value. Evidently there was an
audience request to play something new, because Phil follows it by
saying "I don't know where you've been, buddy, but that WAS
something new." This prompts further commentary from Jerry and
Bob, and "One More Saturday Night" close the set. No big
deal, right? You've heard a million of 'em, and so have I.
Meanwhile, I have some food about ready in the oven ... still, I
can't seem to tear myself away from the headphones. There's a
alternate lyric or two, and Jerry's solo is hot if perfunctory. Then
it hits me: the X factor must be in. Even though nothing remarkable
happens for the remainder of the song (indeed, the band mostly
misses the rhythmic transition in the penultimate chorus), my ears
sense some difference, some change in intensity, sharpness, purposeful
lease; the tracks are greased. And of course, it's time for a set
break.
They return, and a
sprightly "Ramble On Rose" picks us up where we left off.
Phil hits the downbeat, and Keith bounces on the off beats until
Bobby takes over. Sometimes Keith is hard to hear simply because
he's doing something very similar to Bob; they lock together into a
single sound. Then one or the other breaks off, contributing to this
song's fall-apart-then-fall-together mood. Keith seems especially
unpredictable -- as if he doesn't even remember what he did the
previous verse or bridge or chorus, and every moment is a new
discovery (which it may well have been).
For those who keep track of
such things, this marks the last Jerry-led song in this show; Bobby
will sing the rest.
A moment of tuning suggests
that the band doesn't think they'll get the chance again for a long
time, but it's "Sugar Magnolia" next. Keith bounces along
with the beat, and of course the rest of the band already know what
to do. Properly speaking, I suppose "Sugar Magnolia" isn't
a jam song; the format is set, the boundaries known. Still, one
can't deny that the second half contains the quintessential
qualities of the jam: unknown duration, a desire for intensity of
expression, and a strongly visceral feeling to it. There really
isn't anything to say or analyze; ideally, the best thing to do is
just dance. If there is such a thing as a bad version of this song,
this isn't it ;-)
"Truckin" rightly
follows, taking us into this show's jam portion. The crowd cheers
the mention of Buffalo in the lyrics, no doubt despairing of ever
hearing a song that praises Rochester ;-) Five minutes of song, and
we're launched: Phil & Bobby throb, Jerry soars, Keith pounds
over Bill's decisive shuffle. Bobby soon drops down to minimal
insertions, leaving us clear hearing of the New Guy. Evidently
satisfied, Bobby jumps back in to bring us back, but the band enjoys
dangling their participles a while longer. Soon, they've revved back
up to jam status, alternating attacks of intensity and smooth
sailing with increasingly fragmented commentary from Keith. Jerry
hints "The Other One" to evident approval, and the mood
slowly turns murkier. By turns edgier or softer, they finally make
the turn, and it's quite a dialog as they decode how to get there. I
imagine them all in a car together, attempting to navigate the
streets of an unfamiliar city -- "Let's go this way!" --
"Wait, that looks interesting over there!" -- "Whoa,
check out the lights over here!" -- six freaks on their own
bus, searching for delight.
Billy takes seven minutes
of solo spot, sometimes sounding like two drummers thanks to his
skill and the excellent stereo separation. Phil lets this go on for
seven minutes before finally giving us The Roll, and "The Other
One" is in motion. Keith shows his primal awareness by
emphasizing the rhythmic aspect of the song first and foremost (as
does Jerry, really). Phil shows his awareness of being Phil, and
goes everywhere. Arguably they are more "Grateful Dead"
here than anywhere else in the show; DEADBASE lists only six
instances of the band going 10 shows or more without playing this,
and only in June 1976 did they neglect it for more than a dozen.
Within six minutes, the band has gone completely outside the scope
of most bands, and we are lost in the music as to where they might
be going. They seem to be gong back, then they go somewhere entirely
weird; by the eighth minute, they've lost time entirely. Primordial
consciousness oozes and bubbles, froths and foams; rhythm returns,
then departs again. Suggestions are proposed, examined, discarded;
still, the mood remains. Where they once might have used feedback,
here they trill; Keith sprinkles in some piano, Phil tentatively
interwines Jerry's notes (there are always plenty of those). Bobby
tests us with new voicings and sounds; Billy hears it all and
supports it all.
Ultimately, Jerry seems to
get that moment of "pure silence" he likes so much, if
only for a second. Then Phil gently lays in the power chords, and
it's back to "The Other One" that we know so well. On
conclusion, they break out a sock-hoppin' "Johnny B Goode"
as if it were the only natural follow-up to what they'd been doing
-- and, of course, they're exactly right.
Phil says "We'll see
you tomorrow in Syracuse" as he leaves the stage, and this show
leaves me wanting to go there and hear it. Alas, three decades too
late ...
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