Dead’s music remains timeless
In his career-defining masterwork “Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas,” the late Hunter S. Thompson offers a eulogy for the American Dream as the hopeful utopianism of the 1960s gives way to the far less forgiving ’70s. He writes of the “sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil,” which nearly gave way to an energy that would “simply prevail.”
“We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave.”
CONCERT REVIEW
The Dead
Tuesday night in HSBC Arena
Thompson concludes that, with “the right kind of eyes,” one could see the “high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.”
That “rolling back” is now widely accepted as indisputable fact. But not in the world of the Grateful Dead. In that microcosm, a state of graceful suspended animation is the playground of band and fan alike, a space where the crest of the “high and beautiful wave” is forever in view, perpetually about to break.
On Tuesday, the bus once piloted by Neal Cassady and lorded over by Ken Kesey pulled up outside of HSBC Arena, long enough for the surviving members of the Grateful Dead—Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Billy Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart, now operating in the absence of the late Jerry Garcia as simply the Dead — to hop out. So much has changed since the GD entered the world that marking that change seems pointless and arbitrary. But the music of the Dead remains timeless, more outside of the concerns of the times than behind them.
Tuesday’s show confirmed as much. Opening with “Promised Land,” and proceeding through a first set that was unusually centered on songs with no segues, The Dead tore it up, running without a pause through a Jerry Garcia classic, “They Love Each Other,” then letting Weir hold the microphone through “Mama Tried.”
That the set featured a healthy portion of blues tunes suited guitarist Warren Haynes well. He took expansive solos during Bobby Womack’s “It’s All Over Now,” and urging everyone assembled heaven-ward with his solo during the jazz-based “Stella Blue.”
Set one wrapped with Weir leaning into "Big River," another stellar solo from Haynes, and some interesting, multi-layered interaction between the drummers and Lesh, who remains an idiosyncratic bass genius. Often in the past, the manner in which drummers Kreutzmann and Hart interacted gave the Dead a more lumbering swing, as if the ensemble was moving about under water. This could provide some stunning moments, and more often than not, it did. On occasion, though, the Hart-Kreutzmann team might drag, flams might abound, and confusion result. On this tour, however, the drummers are on fire; they've become an 8-limbed organism, and their interactrion is crisp. Because of this, the Dead has never sounded tighter.
Set two commenced with a confident "Playing In the Band," which evolved into an outstanding modal jam that was experimental in nature, blending elements of avant garde and jazz-based improv. Haynes and Weir were in their element here, complementing each other and weaving intricate lines. Weir was playing a Gibson 335 throughout the set, and his tone was crisp and gloriously compressed. His rhythm figures leapt out of the mix and lent an intricate polyrhymic quality to the proceedings. As ever, Weir's choice of chord voicings avoided the obvious and lent harmonic density to the music.
"Playing" hung suspended for a good while, before giving way to an outstanding take on Kris Kristofferson's "Me and Bobby McGee," and here, the three-part vocal harmonies -- Weir, Lesh and Haynes -- soared heavenward. The Arena answered in kind, and the moment was pure magic. Similarly, "Ramble on Rose" benefited from the vocalists' interplay. Haynes' whiskey-tinted, soulful tenor fits gracefully between the Weir-Lesh harmony team, and vocal-wise, the Dead haven't sounded this good since the early '70s.
A "Rhythm Devils" offered a dual percussion tour de force, fell into an ethereal "Space," and ultimately transmogrified into a take on Dylan's "Maggie's Farm." "Eyes of the World" provided another showcase for Haynes, who simply tore up the place over the alternating Major 7 chords in the mid-song vamp. The only time I've heard this done better was when saxophonist Branford Marsalis traded choruses with Jerry Garcia at the Meadowlands.
The band encored, naturally, with a sultry "Truckin'," replete with Buffalo shout-out. And then they were gone. Even after three hours, it seemed that the Dead could've carried on all night.
It felt good to stand and watch the wave crest yet again.
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