The ‘80s were kind of a weird time for the Dead. Their traveling roadshow maintained a level where it was growing but completely out of the mainstream, and the various members of the band made a rough go of themselves. As such, it was seven years before they finally put out a new album (five years since the first songs were debuted). There were several misfires, a few aborted attempts, and then the whole thing got derailed in 1986, when García fell into a diabetic coma.
Once that was done with, and Jerry regained his chops, it was time to finally make that album. But no one wanted to go into the studio, so they rented a theatre and recorded the bones of the album live, with the lights off (hence the title), and then finished it in their own space, Club Front. In doing so, they managed to remain relaxed, which made this album flow like none other. It helped that most of these songs had been in rotation for up to five years, so they were very well rehearsed.
Dating from 1982, Jerry’s super-catchy “Touch Of Grey” was always an inspiring anthem of resilience, made ever more poignant, following Jerry’s health issues. Released as a single, with a clever and fun video to accompany it, this became a certified smash hit. Some of this had to do with all the “summer of love” nostalgia that was happening that year, some of it was anticipation after a long wait, and some of it was just because it’s a great song.
In my case, it came right down to my 13 year old self coming across the 7”, which featured grey vinyl, a poster sleeve, and a non-lp b-side. That was enough for me to snag it on the spot. I had heard of the Dead but had never actually heard them. I always assumed they were a metal band, given their name and all the skulls and shit, but I had to give it a go. I remember going home, putting it on, and being certifiably baffled (and my mom chimed in and said “yep, that’s deadhead music”). But I loved it instantly, playing it over and over again, and I really dug “My Brother Esau” as well. My band at the time (The Minors) played “Touch Of Grey” and we would listen to this album constantly (at least for that summer).
For one reason or another, though, it wasn’t until the end of high school before I became a full-on Deadhead. I kept tabs on them, and had a couple other albums, but was mostly listening to other stuff, before a chance encounter with their first album, and then One From The Vault, pulled me onto the bus for life. Through it all, this record never got old.
Garcia dominates this album, with four songs to his credit. “West LA Fadeaway” is another one that had been kicking around for years and is one of the sickest late period Dead songs. “When Push Come To Shove” is often considered one of the slightest songs in the entire Garcia/Hunter songbook but there’s nothing wrong with it. Just a nice little country rocker on an album that just happened to have better songs.
Lastly, we have the achingly beautiful “Black Muddy River” to close out the album. As far as slow songs are concerned this is Jerry’s finest and, fittingly, it turned out to be the last song he would sing onstage. It can be a hard one to get through sometimes but it is worth it.
Bob Weir offers up two of his finest late period songs with the killer single, “Hell In A Bucket” (another one with a video that is worth seeking) and the epic “Throwing Stones”, which went on to become one of the band’s most reliable second set, post-Space jam pieces. Both of these are songs that had been around for years, and they benefited greatly from those years of refinement. A third Weir song, “My Brother Esau” serves as the b-side to the “Touch Of Grey” single (and was a bonus track on the cassette version of the album). This is another road-worn number that is among his absolute finest while also being one of his most overlooked (sadly, it would disappear from rotation later that year, after over a hundred airings).
Brent Mydland rounds out the proceedings with “Tons Of Steel”, which is a solid, MOR type of song that probably would have fared well had it been released as a single. Originally dating from 1984, this was the title track from a never-released solo album (it’s out there and worth seeking), and was given a hell of a shot here, though it too would mysteriously disappear from rotation, just weeks after the album’s release.
While there were few bands more deserving of such a late renaissance as the Dead, the success of this album is what ultimately led to their demise. Suddenly, they weren’t a secret anymore, and everyone wanted a piece of it. And so they all showed up, ticket or not. What once was a scene soon became a spectacle, and things eventually got very ugly, for the band and crowd alike (despite some great music still being performed).
For this moment, however, none of that can be heard. Not on this album. What can be heard is the band’s best Arista album, and one of their best albums, period.
No comments:
Post a Comment