The Grateful Dead. A Guide To Their Essential Live Songs

The Grateful Dead: A Guide to Their
Essential Live Songs

Where to start with live Dead? Our team of experts breaks it down, combing through thousands of shows to
find their greatest songs and most transcendent moments
by Pitchfork
MAY 23 201 7
A Users Guide to the Grateful Dead

By Jesse Jarnow
As avatars of San Francisco's 60s-born counterculture, the Grateful Dead have served as an alternative to American
reality for more than a half-century. Performing from 1965 to 1995 with guitarist and songwriter Jerry Garcia, the
Dead survive through a vast body of live recordings, originally traded by obsessive fans and now preserved on a long
string of official releases. Though the band has an epic narrative (told in Amir Bar-Levs rapturous four-hour Long,
Strange Trip documentary), much of the Deads story and significance remains purely musical. Part of the groups
staying power is due to the mysterious vastness that exists outside the bounds of their official studio recordings, a live
canon shaped by generations of the still-active Deadhead music trading network.
Flourishing in an extralegal sharing economy built around the exchange of concert tapes and psychedelics (the
tapes were never to be sold), most of the Deads live recordings could only be accessed through profoundly anti-
corporate means. Rather than killing music, as an infamous British music industry campaign claimed in 80s, home
taping actually propelled the Grateful Dead to stadiums, as the Dead themselves acknowledged.
Profoundly unslick, the Grateful Dead's anti-authoritarian creative tendencies remain palpable in the current
era. Self-consciously apolitical and populist to a fault, the Dead built a diverse audience across the political spectrum
while continuing to act as a catalyst for young and old seekers, music heads, counterculturalists, and psychonauts.
Simultaneously, the Dead produced dancing music, folklore, and lyrics to nourish an extended community that
continues to thrive at shows by the bands surviving members and a national scene of cover bands.
Navigating the Grateful Deads shadow discography can be daunting, a tangle of different periods and
idiosyncrasies. This list of recommended song versionschronological, not rankedserves as an introductory survey
of the bands different periods. Loosely, the 37 entries here chart a path from garage-prog (1966) to lysergic jam suites
(1967-1969), alt-Americana (1970), barroom country & western (1971), space-jazz (1972-1975), and epic hippie disco
(1976-1978), eventually arriving at the more slowly evolving band of the 80s and 90s, whose driving creative force
sometimes seemed to be their own inertia.
Its the latter era that is most prone to cleave even Dead enthusiasts. It represents a divide between the tighter,
more critically accepted earlier band and the beloved-by-Deadheads 80s and 90s incarnations, when they were beset
by addiction, the technologies of the era, questionable aesthetic choices, and an evolving secret musical language that
sometimes made more sense in sold-out stadiums of dancing fans. While the Dead got more popular every year in
their later decadesand continued to generate jam surprises and bold performances aplentynew listeners will likely
want to start with the bands earlier epochs. One can see long-running debates even among our contributors
encapsulated in entries for beloved songs like Jack Straw and the Scarlet Begonias/Fire on the Mountain combo,
with a contingent of heads here deeply digging the chaotic stadium psychedelia of the later band.
The majority of the primary song choices presented below come from the classic years of the 60s and 70s; for
many songs, Key Later Versions from the 80s or 90s highlight further developments for the discerning Dead freak.
There, one can hear the band finding new places hidden in the old, mining the mountain range of material they'd
generated earlier in their career.
Though the bands proper albums have earned an undeserved bad reputation, American
Beauty and Workingman's Dead (both released in 1970) especially contain a small handful of songs for which the
studio versions remain almost undisputedly definitive. While songs like Ripple, Attics of My Life, Box of Rain,
and several others belong on any list of the bands campfire standards, theyre left off here in the interest of songs that
varied more greatly in live performance. Likewise, Europe 72, which features elements re-touched in the
studio, generated a number of great live tunes served perfectly well the version found on that album, including
Ramble on Rose and Brown-Eyed Women. Though the Dead continued introducing new originals up through their
last tours, this list focuses on something like a core curriculum of live Dead.
Nearly every selection on this list can and should be argued by anyone with an opinion about live Dead
recordings. But these picks are intended to be gateways into different scenic and well-manicured corners of Grateful
Dead land for those who havent spent much time there, places that might feel welcoming before drumz/space kicks in.
From there, the paths are nearly infinite: an enormous live catalog splattered unceremoniously across streaming
services (but helpfully listed chronologically at DeadDiscs), the complete fan-curated collection at archive.org
(navigable via DeadLists or Relisten.net), a riot of Grateful Dead historical and ahistorical blogs, academic
conferences, a nightly slate of #couchtour webcasts, or a live music venue near you.
You Dont Have To Ask
July 16, 1966
Fillmore Auditorium, San Francisco, Calif.
Written by: Grateful Dead
Overly complicated original is highlight of albums worth of songs scrapped before debut LP. Played in 1966 only.
You Dont Have to Ask has all the elements of a great garage band song. Its got a groovy bass line, excellent reverby
guitar solos, great group harmony vocals, and Ron Pigpen McKernans combo organ cuts right through everything.
Its a zippy little number, guaranteed to fulfill the Deads dance-band obligations. But while its catchy, its also totally
fucking bananas. There are several verses, choruses, parts, sections, a bridge or maybe three, chords you don't expect
(maybe they were surprised too), modulation up, (spoiler alert) modulation back down, then something else entirely,
all at a breakneck speed for them and wrapped up in under four minutes. It kinda sounds like they (Bob) were still
learning the song, but they're all really going for it, even if it was destined to be one of approximately an album's worth
of originals dropped from the repertoire before the band signed to Warner Bros. in 1967. If there was a version of
the Nuggets compilations that consisted entirely of songs written and played by lunatics totally zonked on acid, this
would definitely make the cut. James McNew
Lore: Deadhead forensics has determined that You Dont Have to Ask was also known as Otis on a Shakedown
Cruise, an early song title remembered by band members that seemingly didnt survive on tape; at least until an
attentive listener noticed thatseconds before this version startsa band member can be heard off-mic asking, Otis?
Listen: Spotify | Apple Music
Cream Puff War

December 1, 1966
The Matrix, San Francisco, Calif.
Written by: Jerry Garcia
Included on the groups debut LP, a rare original with both words and music by Jerry Garcia and early vehicle for
exploratory modal jams.
Its okay if you dont like the Grateful Deadeven the Greatest American Band Ever isnt for everybody. But if youre
an ardent Dead hater, Id urge you to try just this one track. In a dimension where the Dead flamed out in obscurity,
Cream Puff War wouldve justified their inevitable rediscovery by proto-punk collectors. Attacked with an urgency
theyd never again employ, the song is on the garage-ier end of the psych spectrum, with a delinquent Farfisa and
uncharacteristically fierce Garcia vocals. Of course, its still the Dead, so its a little too fussy for true garage-fuzz, with
a pile of chords and sudden swerves into waltz time. Played only during the little-documented fall of 1966 and spring
1967, only a single extended version survives, the band consciously searching for new territory and exploring the
modal improv mode they would soon make their own. Shelved soon thereafter, Cream Puff War remains an
interesting thought experiment in Grateful Dead alternate history. Rob Mitchum
Venue: The Matrix was a tiny San Francisco club co-owned by Jefferson Airplanes Marty Balin, where the Dead
played early shows and later experimented with side projects like Mickey and the Hartbeats. In some circles, its more
famous for live recordings of the Deads fellow former Warlocks, the Velvet Underground.
Listen: Archive.org
Viola Lee Blues

February 2, 1968
Crystal Ballroom, Portland, Ore.
Written by: Noah Lewis (arr. the Grateful Dead)
The Deads first massive jam, a hopped-up jug band rearrangement built on three volcanic improv sections. A
dependable mindbender and set centerpiece, whether as an opener or closer, Viola Lee Blues outlasted nearly
everything else from the bands 1966 playbook, but disappeared from live shows after 1970.
Legendary Dead tape collector and vault-master Dick Latvala coined the term primal Dead to describe the blustery
psychedelia at the core of the bands legend. And few early performances reveal the groups unhinged nature as openly
as this prison-blues chugger, written by Memphis singer/harmonica player Noah Lewis and originally recorded in
1928 by his trio, Gus Cannons Jug Stompers. Most Dead versions of Viola Lee Blues are a variant on its noisy
appeal, including the rare excellent studio jam on the bands 1967 Warner Bros. debut, yet what makes this show-
opener special is power, precision, and compactness. The stand-alone opening chord is a universe. The sound of
multiple vocalists screaming out the words betrays an on-stage good time rolling. Garcias mountainous arpeggios
using a deeply metallic guitar toneare a study in Sturm und Drang naturalism; while the hanging pause on which
the players reunite is big-band tightness exemplified. A perfect vehicle when secondary drummer Mickey Hart joined
in 1967, here the closing jams leap into Kreutzmann/Hart-driven hyperspace is a premonition of future Rhys
Chatham/Glenn Branca/Sonic Youth punk-jazz explosions. Strap the fuck in! Piotr Orlov
Listen: Archive.org
Key Earlier Version: September 3, 1967, Rio Nido Dance Hall, Rio Nido, Calif. Recorded just before Mickey Hart
joined the band, the Rio Nido Viola Lee is perhaps the best document of the early single-drummer Dead in full flight,
with Garcia spinning out endless hypnotic turns.
Alligator
February 14, 1968
Carousel Ballroom, San Francisco, Calif.
Written by: Ron Pigpen McKernan, Phil Lesh, Robert Hunter
Non-performing lyricist Robert Hunters first contribution to a Dead song became a playful springboard. Alligator
most often segued into Caution (Do Not Stop on the Tracks), a locomotive blues-fuzz groove almost wholly
borrowed from Thems Mystic Eyes, and in this infamous sequence into a blistering six minutes of guitar feedback.
Just before what sounds like a drum circle busts out, Bob Weir leans into the mic and says, Cmon everybody! Get up
and dance, it wont ruin ya! That bit of tape lifted later that year for the bands pioneering studio/live hybrid, Anthem
of the Sun. Weirs got the earnestness of a prom chaperon gently chiding a wallflower. And why shouldnt he? This was
an era of raw fun for the Dead, prime Pigpen time, who hoots and hollers through his lead vocal, while Weir implores
listeners to burn down the Fillmore, gas the Avalon, the two venues competing with the band-run Carousel
Ballroom. Heavy competition. After the song relaxes from an early Kreutzmann/Hart drum sesh and the guitar finally
returns, its sour but funky. Too good for even the shyest of the shy to not move their butts. Matthew Schnipper
Key Later Version: April 29, 1971, Fillmore East, New York City, N.Y. The final version of the song is a leaner reptile
but with perhaps even more bite, the now-solo Kreutzmann drum segment chomping into a thrilling Lesh/Garcia jam.
St. Stephen
August 21, 1968
Fillmore West, San Francisco, Calif.
Written by: Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, and Robert Hunter
Cryptic lyrics, an elliptical psychedelic bounce, scorching guitar, occasionally a live cannon onstage, and always a
Deadhead favorite.
For a few years in the late 60s, St. Stephen anchored a suite that also included Dark Star and The Eleven,
together taking up the first two sides of the pivotal Live/Dead double LP. Building sets around the rolling peaks of the
suite, individually and together the songs showcased the bands latest compositional ideas and quickly developing
musical interplay. At the center was St. Stephen. Featuring some of Robert Hunters most lava-lamp-ready turns of
phrase (lady finger dipped in moonlight, anyone?), St. Stephen is alluringly simple: a bouncy psychedelic standby
that may or may not have anything to do with the Christian martyr in its title.
At early performances, like this August take at the Fillmore West, it carries the energy of a band falling in love
with their own sound, navigating the songs left turns with aplomb. Bob and Jerry sing the verses together with
childlike joy, before things slow down and get foggier, buoyed by spacey glockenspiel. Just a minute later, the whole
band bounce back into action with a devilish energy, propelled by one of Jerrys gnarliest riffs. The darkness shrugs,
and the Dead ride on. Sam Sodomsky
What To Listen For: The Live/Dead-era versions of the song end with several verses of a lysergic Irish-sounding jig,
both a musical bridge and dramatic energy build before springing into The Eleven (with which its often erroneously
tracked, as here).
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: May 5, 1977 New Haven Coliseum, New Haven, Conn. Revived in slower, elegant form after the
bands 1976 return, St. Stephen attained a different kind of grace, sometimes still finding ecstasy (if not quite
psychedelic fury) in the middle jam, as on standalone versions like this one, though more often segueing into Buddy
Hollys Not Fade Away.
New Potato Caboose
February 13, 1968
Carousel Ballroom, San Francisco, Calif.
Written by: Phil Lesh and Bobby Petersen
One of the bands most structurally experimental songs sets a poem by band friend Bobby Petersen to music.
It's a very long thing and it doesn't have a form, Jerry Garcia told an interviewer about the Deads New Potato
Caboose around the time the band started performing it in the late 60s. The band had been writing original material
since shortly after their 1965 formation, but New Potato was an indication of their rapidly expanding ambitions.
Written by bassist Phil Lesh from a poem by Bobby Petersen, it highlights the former composition prodigys studied
chops. What Garcia heard as formlessness, Lesh almost certainly designedin his own hallucinogenic wayas specific
movements, interconnected with an elusive dream logic.
Sung by Bob Weir with Lesh and Garcia joining for the cascading chorus, Weir sells its mystical (and maybe
even proto-Sonic Youth) atmosphere with a stoney, detached edge during this Carousel Ballroom performance.
Though they would never write another song remotely like it, New Potato Caboose foreshadows the territory they
were about to conquer. Sam Sodomsky
What To Listen For: On this classic early bootleg, a Deadhead staple sourced from an experimental radio broadcast
on then-freeform KMPX, Garcias wild outro solo dissolves into Weirs Born Cross-Eyed and a powerful articulated
take of the piece of music Deadheads would label Spanish Jam.
Venue: Operated by a consortium of bands including the Dead, Jefferson Airplane, and Quicksilver Messenger
Service, the Carousel Ballroom failed as a business, and was reopened as the Fillmore West by promoter Bill Graham.
The Eleven
February 28, 1969
Fillmore West, San Francisco, Calf.
Written by: Phil Lesh and Robert Hunter
The bands endlessly rehearsed double-drummer mindbender central to Live/Dead.
The Eleven is the Grateful Dead at their most joyous, all ascending scales, bursts of melody, shouted lyrics, and
tricky meters designed to sound as if everything is on the verge of falling apart. Its essence is right there in the title: the
song is in 11/8 time, meaning that three bars of 3/4 are punctuated with a quick 2/4 bash before the cycle starts again.
The 11/8 frame turns out to be ideal for Garcia and Lesh, who solo in tandem on the best versions of the song. The
Eleven was shorter, faster, and gnarlier in 1968, and the soloingthe best of which always happens before the brief
verses beginwas more clipped. By the week in late February where they recorded the material that wound up on the
epochal Live/Dead, Garcia and Lesh were working like two halves of the same musical mind. A Wednesday show at
the Avalon Ballroom produced the Live/Dead version, but the Friday night show of that same week, one of four in a
row at the Fillmore West, turned out to be the finest single moment for The Eleven. Garcia and Lesh are like two
dogs barking and nipping at each other while running full-speed across a field, never breaking stride, taking turns
being in front. Eventually, the tight three-chord structure would bore Garcia, who felt hed wrung every idea he could
out of the song. The Dead dropped it from setlists forever in 1970. But during this precise moment in February 1969
there are more ideas than they know what to do with. Mark Richardson
What to Listen For: The overlapping three-part vocal is hard-to-sing overload, featuring some of Robert Hunters
finest lysergic playfulness in Garcias trippy countdown part: Eight-sided whispering hallelujah hatrack, seven-faced
marble eye transitory dream doll
What Else to Listen For: The drums, man! Ideally on headphones.
Mountains of the Moon

March 1, 1969
Fillmore West, San Francisco, Calif.
Written by: Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter
The Deads first and most psychedelic folk song has more in common with the Incredible String Band than Phish,
used as a prelude to the jam centerpiece, Dark Star.
The peak old-folkie days of the Dead wouldnt come until the early 70s, but Mountains of the Moon was
foreshadowed that era. Debuted in late 68, the minimal ballad spent the first half of 69 as the gentle prelude to its
deeper astronomical partner, Dark Star; the last few notes of the February 27, 1969 version can be heard during the
introductory fade-in to Live/Dead. On Aoxomoxoa, some heavy-handed harpsichord emphasizes the faux-Elizabethan
melody and faerie-land lyrics, but live, a stripped-down lineup of Bobby on a 12-string, Garcia finger-picking, Lesh
burbling, and Tom T.C. Constanten on organ made for a haunting lull in their primal phase. Rob Mitchum
What to Listen For: Serving as a spell to put the band and audience in the ruminative frame of mind for the journey
to come, Garcia essentially continues his closing Mountains of the Moon solo into the Dark Star intro, even while
switching from acoustic to electric guitar.
Watch: January 18, 1969 Playboy After Dark, Los Angeles, Calif. To see a possibly-dosed Hugh Hefner swaying along
to Mountains of the Moon with his arm around a Bunny, check out the Deads surreal appearance on Playboy After
Dark.
Friend of the Devil

May 2, 1970
Harpur College, Binghamton, N.Y.
Written by: Jerry Garcia, John Dawson, and Robert Hunter
Hail Satan!
1970 was a championship season for the devil. The Beatles broke up. Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin raised the curtains
in the 27 Club. The Kent State massacres compounded the 6,173 body bags airlifted back from Vietnam. And the
Grateful Dead unshackled Friend of the Devil, the best song ever written about a cuckolded bigamist fleeing from a
sheriffs posse and 20 hellhounds, only to get stuck up by Satan for his final $20.
Apologies to Pac and Snoop, but this is the most immortal outlaw anthem about attempting to return to your house
out in the hills right next to Chino. Written by Robert Hunter with John Dawson of stoner C&W Dead spin-off New
Riders of the Purple Sage with Garcia adding the bridge, the acoustic riffs ramble like an undiscovered escape route.
Robert Hunters lyrics shine a searchlight on a Western anti-heroButch Cassidy bargaining with Lucifersleepless,
ragged, and fatal. But Garcia sings with a weary sweetness on this staple acoustic set. A bouquet in hand, six-shooter
behind his back; the poetic conman with insidious alliances, he seduces with his wounded decency, at least until he
disappears into a cloud of sulfur. Jeff Weiss
Key Later Version: June 27, 1976 Auditorium Theater, Chicago, Ill. Following the bands touring hiatus, Garcia was
inspired to revive the song in a slower arrangement after hearing a recording of a live Loggins & Messina cover.
Brokedown Palace
August 30, 1970
KQED Studios, San Francisco, Calif.
Garcia and Hunters immortal farewell ballad and cosmic love song with Crosby, Stills & Nash-inspired harmonies.
The massive amount of high quality archival audio makes the Grateful Deads video output seem minuscule by
comparison. Add crummy camerawork and dated psychedelic FX, and you often dont have too much to look at. Not so
for this simple and beautiful take of Brokedown Palace on local California TV, which keeps the fancy tech to a
minimum. But on the chorus, marked by some of the Deads most beautiful earthy three-part harmonizing, Weir and
Garcias profiles overlap on screen. Its their own Mamas and Papas or Fleetwood Mac moment: two crooners, a
heartthrob and a scruff, in total rhapsody. Sometimes, there seemed to be a disconnect between the bands solemn
sound and the way they made the audience feel. In 1970, the year Garcia and Hunter churned out two albums of
instant hippie standards, it paid off, with the Dead in perfect harmony, both creatively and vocally. Everyone onstage
and off is blissed out. How nice it is to share. Matthew Schnipper
What to Listen For: Not shown on camera, the high part of the bands three-part harmony is bassist Phil Lesh.
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: May 11, 1977 St. Paul Civic Center, St. Paul, Minn. Like almost everything else in May 1977,
Brokedown Palace sounded perfect, Donna Jean Godchauxs harmony replacing Leshs, who mostly stopped singing
in the late 70s after straining his vocal cords.
Turn On Your Love Light

September 19, 1970
Fillmore East, New York City, N.Y.
Written by: Joseph Scott and Deadric Malone
A frequent show closer from 1969-1972 and a showcase for Pigpens greasy raps and unfurling blues-psych
boogies. From 1969-1971, especially, the Dead spent more time jamming Love Light than even Dark Star, playing
it more often and usually for a longer duration as a populist get-the-heads-dancing rave-up to conclude their most
far-out sets.
Defying the peak of primal Dead, the gutbucket blues of Turn on Your Love Light dominated set lists during the
Deads most psychedelic era. Usually upwards of 20 minutes (and sometimes over 40), the band vamped between
innuendo-filled raps by frontman Pigpen aimed at pairing off members of the audience. While conducting the bands
deft on-the-fly arrangements, Pig would spike the Bobby Blue Bland originals sweetness into something more
libidinal and fetishistic. Well shes got box back nitties/Great big noble thighs/Working undercover with her boar hog
eye, Pig sang, a bit of mojo jive that one scholar has spent ample time decoding.
By September 1970, the Summer of Love had given way to the Autumn of Fuck. Doing some crowd work, Pig
whips the audience into a frenzy, perhaps creating the sort of weird atmosphere that led one feminist reviewer to feel
alienated by the hippie stag partylater that fall. After the band strikes the final beat, Pigpen screams Fuck!issued
as both punctuation and command. This Love Light scores 5 fucksone for each time the word is uttered by the
band. Ariella Stok
Listen: Archive.org
Watch: August 16, 1969 Max Yasgurs Farm, Bethel, N.Y. At Woodstock, as the Dead begin a 36 minute Love Light,
a still-unidentified rando takes over the mic, soon led away when Merry Prankster Ken Babbs distracts him with a
joint.
Dark Star
April 8, 1972
Wembley Pool, London, UK
Written by: Grateful Dead and Robert Hunter
The bands definitive psychedelic jam epic, with wondrous versions in nearly every era it appeared.
In April of 1972, the Dead commenced a major European tour, almost two months long and a definitive musical
turning point. Elongated fast n furious blues jams and Wild West saloon swagger were dosed with jazzier, subtler
improvisations, the Deads musical shorthand cribbed from the simultaneous soloing of Dixieland music. Introduced
to listeners via a short and far-out 7" in early 1968 and the standard side-long take of Live/Dead in 1969, the April 8th,
1972 version is not a Dark Star of gaping existential canyons jagged with feedback. The exuberance of the band
listening to itself in this half-hour house of mirrors can be heard as Garcias Alligator Stratocaster quickly descends
from the songs head, Lesh offering bubbly harmonic counterpoint; accents of cymbals and short drum rolls make
Weirs offbeat rhythmic attacks more potent and clear space for Keith Godchaux to pound out leads on his piano. A
collective breath is taken after the first and only verse, until Kreutzmanns kick drum cajoles the rest of the Dead,
including Pigpen behind the organ, to percolate a melody, pause for a brief freak-out, and wrap up the song with
sunburst triumph. Buzz Poole
What to Listen For: The charging major key jam that erupts near the end of this version also features a fiery debate
about what will follow, eventually sliding perfectly into Weirs Sugar Magnolia and a version of Pigpens Caution
(Do Not Stop on the Tracks) filled with crackling heat lightning.
Key Later Version: October 31, 1991 Oakland Coliseum, Oakland, Calif. At the unexpected and emotionally charged
five-show wake for promoter Bill Graham, the Deads staunchest supporter, Dark Star became a time machine when
novelist Ken Kesey delivered a Halloween eulogy and the band flashed back to the Acid Tests, eight musicians so
locked in that you can imagine walking between all the notes.
Dark Star Canon (Excerpt):
2/28/69 Fillmore West, San Francisco, CA [Live/Dead, dude.]
2/13/70 Fillmore East, New York City, NY [Taper favorite.]
8/27/72 Old Renaissance Fairgrounds, Veneta, OR [Transdimensional meltdown.]
10/28/72 Cleveland Public Hall, Cleveland, OH [Hyperreal, with so-called bass-led Philo Stomp.]
10/26/89 Miami Arena, Miami, FL [MIDI tour-de-force with bummer Garcia vocals.]
The Other One

April 26, 1972
Jahrhunderthalle, Frankfurt, West Germany
Written by: Bob Weir and Bill Kreutzmann
A high-wire version of one of the bands premier jam vehicles in nearly every era. After dropping Cryptical
Envelopment in 1971 (minus a brief 80s revival), The Other One became the jam center of many second sets, its
triplet-based gallop providing a tension-laden motif for high energy improvisation, perfect for segues, creating a
jam canon second only to Dark Star.
Released in 1995 as Hundred Year Hall, the Grateful Deads April 26, 1972, show in Frankfurt is a tour de force display
of pretty much everything the Dead were capable of at this juncture, from earthy Pigpen-led R&B to country-fried
workouts to daring improvisation. The latter is best exemplified by the sprawling, 36-minute wonder that is this
night's reading of The Other One. Originally bookended by Jerry Garcias Cryptical Envelopment, by 1972 the song
had been both pared down and expanded, providing the Dead with a vehicle for their most untetheredand
sometimes most aggressivejams. Coming out of a rollicking Truckin, the Frankfurt Other One bursts into action
with Bill Kreutzmann's relentless tiger paws rhythm and Phil Lesh's rumbling bass, leading directly into a
kaleidoscopic roller coaster ride. Jerry Garcia darts madly around with fleet-fingered, often feedback- and wah-
drenched guitar work as pianist Keith Godchaux pounds out Cecil Taylor-isms. Even the usually jam-averse Pigpen
gets into the act with a stabbing organ part. Before the Dead finally slip into a gorgeous Comes a Time, Bob Weir
bellows the now-famed lyrics about their deceased mentor, Beat icon Neal Cassadyand there's no question that his
gonzo spirit was at the wheel during this performance. Tyler Wilcox
Key Earlier Version: February 27, 1969 Fillmore West, San Francisco, Calif. Sounding fairly goofed up as they
introduce the last portion of the evenings early set, the band dazzles with a complete version of the Thats It For the
Other One suite, with Garcias spiraling Cryptical Envelopment intro and outro.
Key Later Version: February 5, 1978 UniDome, Cedar Falls, Iowa. A reliable source of headiness for much of the
Dead's career, The Other One was especially good in the late 70s, as on this explosive 1978 rendition.
China Cat Sunflower > I Know You

Rider
August 27, 1972
Old Renaissance Fairgrounds, Veneta, Ore.
Written by: Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter/traditional, arranged by Grateful Dead
Grateful Dead-brand sunshine in a can links baroque psychedelia to a folk song the Dead arguably made an
American classic. During the 70s, China > Rider was a first-set standard, usually the place where the band would
initialize their improvisational chops on any given night. In the 80s and 90s, it moved to the second set opener slot,
a guaranteed crowd favorite to settle fans back in.
To get the absolute purest dose of what the Dead sounded like, lick your finger and stick it in the middle of any
rendition of this classic pairing. For one, the duo nicely charts the main axis of Dead songwriting, with effervescent
psychedelia blending into an electrified rearrangement of a traditional American folk song. But more important is the
zone between the two songs, so humbly notated with a >, where the magic truly blooms. For several glorious
minutes, the band exists in a quantum state between the two compositions, navigating that space with an uncanny
group-mind. In August of 1972, the Dead played a benefit in sweltering heat for the Kesey family creamery outside
Eugene, Oregon. Like most things with the Grateful Dead, what should be a calamity is instead transcendent, with
China > Rider (the > is silent) one of several sublime performances. Rob Mitchum
Key Slightly Later Version: June 26, 1974 Providence Civic Center, Providence, R.I. In 1973 and 1974, the China >
Rider transition included a theme based on Simon & Garfunkels Feelin Groovy, and this version includes both a
rare intro jam and a turn through the descending melody that Deadheads call Mind Left Body, after its resemblance
to a Paul Kantner song.
Bird Song
August 27, 1972
Old Renaissance Fairgrounds, Veneta, Ore.
A fragile goodbye doubles as a perfectly titled lift-off for some of the bands most lilting and delicate jams.
Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead's friend and occasional tour mate (not to mention Ron Pigpen McKernans on-again-
off-again lover), died of an accidental heroin overdose in October 1970 at the age of 27. A few months later, the Dead
unveiled Bird Song, Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcias touching farewell tribute to the singer. Not so much an elegy
as a reminder toas one of Joplins signature tunes puts itget it while you can, Bird Songs studio incarnation
appeared on Garcias first self-titled solo LP. But the song really took flight onstage with the Dead in 1972, especially
during a show at Veneta, Oregons Renaissance Fairgrounds, legendary among tape traders for decades before being
officially released in 2013. Following a bittersweet, gently psychedelic verse and chorus, the band slides into a long,
meditative modal jam, Garcias guitar sounding simultaneously mournful and ecstatic as it soars into the upper
register, his cohorts circling patiently below. Bill Kreutzmann, handling drumming duties alone, gives the song a
restless, jazzy lope. A sublime ensemble performance, made only slightly less sublime in the Sunshine
Daydream concert doc, which features an undulating, naked fan perched directly behind Garcia, getting the sunburn
of his life. Tyler Wilcox
What to Listen For: The way Kreutzmann launches the band back into the jam with a fluttering drum fill.
Key Later Version: October 1980 Radio City Music Hall, New York City, N.Y. The Dead introduced an unplugged
but no less exploratoryBird Song in 1980, a high-flying highlight of the bands Reckoning live LP.
Playing in the Band

November 18, 1972
Hofheinz Pavilion, Houston, Tex.
Written by: Bob Weir and Robert Hunter
The Deads archetypal meta-anthem, with every version from 1972 through 1974 diving into deep, heady, and
swinging space-jazz. Part of Bob Weirs first major batch of original songwriting and included with an abnormally
good studio jam on 1972s Ace, Playing in the Band was played as a standalone first set closer in the early 70s,
migrating to the second half of the show in later years where it was often split apart by one or several songs inserted
between the songs beginning and final chorus.
1972 was the year of Playing in the Band, played more often than any other song and site of some of the bands
deepest explorations. Bob Weir swaggers his way through the meta lyrics of the three-minute pop form, which then
melts on a downbeat directly into the outer reaches of a jam that comes as close as the Dead ever achieved to what
jazzheads refer to as fire music. Swelling insistently through several movements, the rhythm section pilotsBilly
Kreutzmann approaching Elvin Jones-like intensity and Phil Lesh constructing architectural leads only to explode
them with double-stopped, low-frequency bass bombs. Interlaced throughout, Garcias strobing guitar creates a
zoetrope-like effect of white-hot intensity. When its time for re-entry, Donna Jean Godchaux wails as though birthing
the choruss reprise from her very loins, and one is overtaken in ecstasy by the feeling of having emerged triumphant
following a journey into the unknown. Ariella Stok
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: November 6, 1979, The Spectrum, Philadelphia, Pa. Keyboardist Brent Mydland had joined the
band earlier that year and already his deep rapport with Garcia is on display, while the arrival of new synths provides a
whole new sonic space-time-continuum for this Playing to tear asunder.
Jam
July 27, 1973
Watkins Glen Motor Speedway, Watkins Glen, N.Y.
Written by: Grateful Dead
Well, duh. But not as duh as you maybe think.
Oh, of course the Dead almost always jammed, but it was less often that they produced a piece of improvisation from a
standing start. It certainly happened occasionally, but never in front of a larger audience than at the Watkins Glen
Motor Speedway in July 1973, which itself held the title of largest concert in rock history until Rock in Rio unseated it
in 2001. Sharing a bill with the Band and the Allman Brothers in front of an estimated 500,000 people, the three
groups played unannounced public warm-ups in front of the assembling crowd the day before the ticketed event, with
the Dead deciding (naturally) to play two warm-up sets. One second theyre tuning, and then a cymbal swell drops
them into a fluid musical conversation that hints at songs they havent even written yet. Mostly its just an easy-going
dialog between the quintet where one can hear the the chillest iteration of the bands single-drummer 1971-1973 peak,
Bill Kreutzmanns free dance holding together star-splatter by Garcia, Lesh, and the gang. Jesse Jarnow
Key Avant-Dead Jam: September 11, 1974 Alexandra Palace, London, UK. A number of 1974 performances featured
duet performances by Phil Lesh and proto-noise piece Seastones composer Ned Lagin, some of which segued from
Lagins moment forms into the Deads set as the band joined in, including this magical improvisation from Londons
Alexandra Palace that flows from modular synth eruptions towards the friendly skies of Eyes of the World.
Key Later Version: October 26, 1989 Miami Arena, Miami, Fla. By the 80s, the Deads free jamming mostly
isolated itself in the guise of their second set Drumz/Space segments, the primary forum for the bands remaining
avant-garde leanings and musique concrete-like MIDI explorations, as on this post-Dark Star exploration from 1989.
Weather Report Suite: Prelude/Part

1/Part 2: Let It Grow
November 21, 1973
Denver Coliseum, Denver, Colo.
Written by: Bob Weir/Bob Weir and Eric Anderson/Bob Weir and John Perry Barlow
Perhaps Bob Weirs most ambitious composition, sad autumnal folk bursts open into elemental Garcia leads. Played
46 times in 1973 and 1974, Weir dropped the gentler first two segments of the piece when they returned in 1976 with
second drummer Mickey Hart, though Let It Grow remained consistently in rotation through the remainder of the
bands career, a late first set home for improv.
First played as a complete piece in September of 1973, Bob Weirs Weather Report Suite was a coming of age for the
bands rhythm guitarist and youngest member. First fiddling with the baroque chords of the Prelude during earlier
jams, the full composition was perhaps Weirs earthy answer to Jerry Garcias Eyes of the World for the Wake of the
Flood era. In Denver on November 21, 1973, the Suite is both fragile and reassuring to start, each instrument falling
into place. With subtle interplay between Leshs unique lead bass, Garcias shimmering slide, and Keith Godchauxs
Fender Rhodes setting up a call and three-part-harmony response, it all moves towards the breaking storm of Let It
Grow. There, Kreutzmanns light and lean drums lead tempo shifts in a dynamic and subtle jazz jam, opening up to
the wild beyond. Cori Taratoot
Key Later Version: June 24, 1985 River Bend Music Theater, Cincinnati, Ohio. The entire band launches full-
throttle into a furious, tight and edgy version, with Garcia finding raging solos in every open space.
Here Comes Sunshine

December 19, 1973
Curtis Hixon Convention Hall, Tampa, Fla.
Gang harmonies and bright syncopation made for a song whose original incarnation lasted barely a year. Inspired
by Abbey Road-era Beatles, Here Comes Sunshine was one of over a half-dozen Garcia/Hunter songs debuted
February 8, 1973 at Stanford University, some (but not all) destined for that years self-released Wake of the Flood.
Dick Latvala began collecting Dead tapes while working as a zookeeper in Hawaii in the late 1970s, swapping bundles
of weedwhich he packed into reel-to-reel boxes and cavalierly dispatched through the U.S. Mailfor more and better
music. Latvala, who went on to become the Deads official tape archivist, picked this show for the inaugural
installment of Dicks Picks, the series of official releases of live shows he curated for the band. Hes said that this
particular iteration of Here Comes Sunshinea cheerful song about the 1948 flooding of the Columbia River basin,
in Vanport, Oregoninspired that release, which in turn appropriately finally opened the bands archival floodgates.
As a blind introduction to the Deads strange musical alchemythe ways in which, on certain nights, all five players
seemed to operate as a single, glinting organismit remains unimpeachable. Amanda Petrusich
Stella Blue
December 19, 1973
Curtis Hixon Convention Hall, Tampa, Fla.
An aching, luminous Garcia ballad, home to some of his most soulful singing and guitar playing. Most often, Stella
Blue was performed as an epilogue to the band's furthest out jam segment of a given night, a tender affirmation of
spirit following the symbolic (and actual) psychedelic journey the second set represented to many in their audience.
Even to the most frenzied and infatuated fan, Jerry Garcia can remain an inscrutable frontman. But Stella Blue
which, in this version, drifts out of an arch and dissonant feedback jam, ethereal and spooky, like a genie emerging
from the neck of a bottlebetrays a specific fragility. This is arguably Garcia at his most human. Stella Blue is a minor
character in Vladimir Nabokovs novel Pale Fire, but the songs lyrics, written by Robert Hunter, feel more personal;
they recount a grim existential spiral, in which feelings of hopelessness become increasingly difficult to beat back.
Some heads prefer the later, two-drummer versions, but theres something about the starkness of this one that feels
especially moving. In the end, theres still that song, Garcia promises. For a moment, he sounds nearly buoyant.
Amanda Petrusich
Key Later Version: July 13, 1984 Greek Theater, Berkeley, Calif. Though the band doesnt sound as if theyre on the
same page until Garcia starts singing, the songs quiet moments (especially its first three minutes) are mid-80s Garcia
vocals at their soulful and imperfect best.
Eyes of the World

June 18, 1974
Freedom Hall, Louisville, Ky.
A just-exactly-perfect almost-breezy jam for a summers day.
Eyes of the World first appeared live in 1973, as the Dead began to introduce some more jazz-inflected architecture
to their open-ended jamsa fruition, in part, of some ear-opening exposure on earlier shared bills with Bitches Brew-
era Miles Davis. Eyes had a catchy main guitar riff (weirdly similar, Ive noticed, to the one in Daft Punks Get
Lucky), a beguiling lazy gait, crypto-cosmic lyrics, andin its first couple years, anywaya long, raging coda that
went through a series of key changes and funky signatures. There are many splendid examples of this coda from 1973
and 1974. But I always go back to 6/18/74. Despite some shrill vocals and Schroeder-y piano, this version has an
uncharacteristically crisp beginning (they were more precise when they had only one drummer), and great interstitial
Garcia solos. The songs long, flowering run-out seems almost composed, as their best improvisations tended to do
an impression strengthened a few years ago when a pianist named Holly Bowling performed the Louisville Eyes note
for note. Nick Paumgarten
Key Later Version: September 3, 1977 Raceway Park, Englishtown, N.J. After 1975, the Dead scrapped the coda,
and over the course of the next decade, the renditions got faster and cokier, almost to the point of parodyan acquired
taste. Along the way, though, theres 9/3/77. The tempo is just right, and Garcias leads catch fire.
Key Much Later Version: March 29, 1990 Nassau Coliseum, Uniondale, N.Y. Fans of later Dead are fond of the of
this version featuring Branford Marsalis on saxophone, capturing the sextet and guest in full arena-Dixieland toot.
Truckin
September 18, 1974
Parc des Expositions, Dijon, France
Written by: Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, and Robert Hunter
Perhaps the Deads most identifiable song, a boogie with an occasional backdoor into the cosmos. A rare
autobiographical group composition, Truckin was designed to be a modular Road Song, with Robert Hunter
supplying new verses as the band had further adventureshe even wrote some on request in the late 70s but the
band never sang them.
The Grateful Dead are all about The Road, and Truckin is one of the all-time great Road songs. It got some burn on
FM radio in the 70s and positioned the Dead in a cultural moment connected to R. Crumb and CB Radio. It also gave
the group its defining lyric: Without Truckin, headline writers wouldnt have words to describe all of our long and
strange trips. Live, it was a supremely flexible song and one of their most-played, fitting neatly into acoustic sets but
also stretching into long inspired jams. Bill Kreutzmanns shuffling groove is key, chugging and choogling forward
with a steady-state insistence not unlike the motorik beat of krautrock. Sometimes Garcia solos in Chuck Berry mode,
but in 1974 he was taking it to slightly weirder places. In front of a few hundred people in Dijon, France, their smallest
crowd in years, this version finds the song at its jazziest, with mind-bending guitar interplay. Mark Richardson
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: October 18, 1978 Winterland, San Francisco, Calif. A rare late-70s Phil Lesh vocal spot,
Truckins ambling country-fried vibe hardened into an edgier post-gas crisis model, led by Bob Weirs police whistle
and a jam peak that turns the Other One riff inside out.
Morning Dew
October 18, 1974
Winterland, San Francisco, Calif.
Written by: Bonnie Dobson and Tim Rose
Ballad about nuclear holocaust transmogrified into showstopping existential soul-folk by Garcia.
This folk song about two lone survivors of a nuclear apocalypse entered the rotation in 1967 but really became a Garcia
set-piece and gut-puncher once the band slowed it down in the early 70s. As the Deads premier revelatory ballad,
coming after the chaos of a jam or space, it almost always laid em flat, despite its oblique lyrics and simple chord
progression. As time went on, Garcia often seemed to pour more into it than pretty much anything else. The song has
two crescendos, each building from delicate quiet to cathartic guitar-god keening and fanning. At Winterland, on
October 18, 1974, during the bands last stand before an 18-month touring hiatus, they performed a titanic version that
made it sound like they were quitting for real, at the peak of their powers. Nick Paumgarten
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: October 12, 1984 Augusta Civic Center, Augusta, Maine. A powerhouse song even when Garcia
was in dire health, it somehow suited his husky voice and haunted aspects, as it does on this ragged but glorious heart-
tugger from a special evening.
Uncle Johns Band

October 19, 1974
A campfire standard with a few tricky chord changes and an ineffable melody lifted from a Greek folk song.
The studio recording of Uncle John's Band, from 1970s classic Workingmans Dead, is a pleasant slice of
Americana, centered around acoustic rhythm guitars and vocal harmonies inspired by Crosby, Stills & Nash. While it
ultimately became a peaceful call to worship for legions of Deadheads, its lyrical origins are more of a countercultural
call to decamp. In this breezy performance from Winterland 74during the retirement run filmed for the Grateful
Dead Moviethe Latin swing sets itself cleverly against easy hippie fare like are you kind? and ain't no time to
hate. But this is a folk song with teeth. As the songs jam shifts into a minor key and a fierce 7/4 time signature,
Garcia explores both dark and light, running arpeggios up and down the scale, using the jam as a springboard for some
of his most explosive playing. Uncle John's Band is a time-honored greatest hit for a reason: its invitation to drop
out and turn on is evergreen. And hard-learned warnings like when life looks like easy street, there is danger at your
door, are as true today as ever. Gabe Tesoriero
Listen: Archive.org
Key Proto Version: November 8, 1969 Fillmore Auditorium, San Francisco, Calif. Before Uncle John's Bands late
1969 debut as a singalong, Garcia played the over-fuzzed melody at the heart of a few jams, and it's hard not to hear it
as a pivot point between the band's wilder psychedelic leanings and the oncoming folk boom.
Key Later Version: October 9, 1989 Hampton Coliseum, Hampton, Va. From one of two shows billed as Formerly
the Warlocks, this smoking Uncle Johns Band is way up, Jerry bringing the MIDI-fired pyrotechnics, and two
separate B-section jams.
Crazy Fingers
June 22, 1976
Tower Theater, Upper Darby, Pa.
Haiku-like verses and a delicate vibe on the line of hippie-reggae and something more elusive.
A product of the bands extended woodshed period at Bob Weirs home studio in 1975, Crazy Fingerss quiet reflects
the bands scaled-back approach for their touring hiatus. Debuting as a set-opener during the second of their four
appearances that year, I prefer the June 22, 1976 version from just after they returned to the road. The crowd audibly
responds as Jerry gently starts to sing, which is, honestly, part of the thrill of listening to live Dead; its almost always
at least somewhat interactive. Since post-Garcia Dead fans must rely on recordings, every whistle, scream, and even
side conversation from an audience-made tape can help bring a set to life. Unlike anything else Garcia and Hunter
wrote in its lyrical minimalism, the haiku-like verses are set to a tune thats a touch dub-like. With a more pronounced
island vibe on the Blues For Allah studio version, the delicate jam offered a variety of possibilities, here spiraling
inventively upward and eventually back down to Comes a Time. Like many great Dead songs, its a little dark, a lot
introspective, and yet still delicate and somehow optimistic. Mariel Cruz
What to Listen For: A fragile vibe to begin with, Crazy Fingers could vary widely, at its best blooming into
intricate and quiet improvisations as singular in the bands catalog as the lyrics.
Listen: Archive.org
Key Proto Version: Distorto, February 28, 1975, Aces, Mill Valley, Calif. Developed in the studio during the
sessions that eventually yielded Blues For Allah, where the band allowed themselves the freedom to let jams develop,
Crazy Fingers began life as a piece of music called Distorto.
The Wheel
June 29, 1976
Auditorium Theater, Chicago, IL
Written by: Jerry Garcia, Bill Kreutzmann, and Robert Hunter
Written without beginning or ending as part of a side-long suite improvised in the studio, The Wheel was often
heard rolling out of the drumz/space segments.
The Wheel, a Hunter/Garcia composition written spontaneously during the sessions for Garcias seminal 1972
LP Garcia, didnt see its live debut with the Dead until June of 1976. Driven by the rolling thunder of the drummers,
Phil Leshs loping bass line, and Jerrys delicate, haunting guitar work, The Wheeloften in its slot coming out of
Spacehas served as a vehicle for some high-wire experimentation over the years. In this performance from Chicagos
Auditorium Theatre on June 29, Garcia's voice and guitar work positively sparkle. Recalling the bright pedal steel
jangle of the excellent studio version, the guitar line builds and spirals upward. Between the plaintive, meditative
chants of the verses, Garcia again takes off. In the songs traditional exploratory outro, Jerry teases a phrase from The
Other One, galloping into a syncopated double-time jam with hair on fire. Lyrically, The Wheel is a call to follow the
muse, the shared sense of experience that is the Dead trip itself. Musically, its breathtaking, as the best Grateful
Dead can be. Gabe Tesoriero
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: March 24, 1990 Knickerbocker Arena, Albany, N.Y. Brightly colored by Brent Mydlands
phrasing this version of The Wheel drives and pulsates, gathering steam and packing a real wallop in just four
minutes and change.
Comes a Time
September 28, 1976
Onondaga County War Memorial, Syracuse, N.Y.
Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter at their most vulnerable and Garcias soloing at its most lyrical.
The placement of this beautiful, vulnerable, introspective Garcia song (coming out of a wooly-ass jam at the end of a
kinda-too-long Samson and Delilah and segueing into Drums) is a little weird, I guess. The whole band's playing is
sparse and gentle, like everyone's choosing each lonely note they play with deep thought and restraint. Even Phil is
barely playing, relatively speaking. Jerry and Donna Jeans voices sound a little wounded, huddled together on a
wobbly perch just above the group. Theres a modest yet lovely guitar break that flutters upward into last verse and a
staggering--and surprisingly briefsolo at the end over simple repeated F#m & G chorus tag. Its filled with anger and
yearning, despair and resentment, and a lifetime of pain helping to squeeze out each wiry note. It threatens to unfurl
into a litany of emotion, but... then hi-hats, and before you know it Mickey is doing paradiddles on what sounds like a
Tasmanian log. Feels like Garcia is changing the subject. Revealing, if you overthink it (like I'm doing); beautiful and
blue if you just float along. James McNew
What to Listen For: That last guitar solo!
Key Slightly Later Version: May 9, 1977 War Memorial Auditorium, Buffalo, N.Y. Debuted in 1971, Comes a
Time was included on Garcias 1976 solo album Reflections and soon resurfaced in the Deads live sets. Each with a
towering final solo, each of the five versions from May 1977 might be celebrated as a national holiday, but especially
Buffalo.
Terrapin Station
May 7, 1977
Boston Garden, Mass.
Garcia and Hunters mysterious folk epic, parable-driven balladry building to a series of near-orchestral
peaks. With a few exceptions, Terrapin Stations far-out destination was usually Drumz > Space, a position of
gravitas in the Deads setlists, except for a period in the mid-80s when Weir sometimes used it to set up his good-
time calypso cover, Man Smart, Woman Smarter.
Halfway through the 70s, prog was all but dead: King Crimson had disbanded, Yes had gone off the deep end, and
Genesis lost their most forward-thinking member. But then, in 1977, the Grateful Dead debuted Terrapin Station.
The title track to their glossy 77 album and the final epic from Garcia and Hunter, Terrapin was a completely
different beast from even the lengthiest of compositions that preceded it.
Melodic and precise where Dark Star was jazzy and open-ended, Terrapin Station was a powerful addition to the
bands set during arguably their finest year. Written and recorded as a larger suite, the live versions only included its
first few sections, growing luminous on the bands spring tour. At their Boston show during their legendary run in May
77, they performed a careful, confident rendition, propelled by Jerrys emotive vocals and solos. The band was at their
most well-rehearsed here, and Terrapin glides with an otherworldly energy, making it a momentous second set
opener. Its masterful series of crescendos is maybe the decades best proof that the Deads gifts for tight songwriting
and sprawling musicality were not mutually exclusive. Sam Sodomsky
What to Listen For: The moment the song upshifts from what could be a traditional folk ballad into a grander
composition.
Listen: Archive.org
Key Proto Version: March 18, 1977 Winterland, San Francisco, Calif. The earlier sections are still finding their form,
but a one-night-only performance of At a Siding, minus the vocals on the album version, provides an appropriately
mystical destination suggested by the lyrics.
Key Later Version: March 15, 1990 Capitol Centre, Landover, Md. On Phil Leshs 50th birthday, on a tour many
latter day fans hold next to legendary outings like Europe 72, the band work the final refrain until it balloons into a
world of its own.
Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodleloo

May 7, 1977
Boston Garden, Boston, Mass.
One of the final songs from Garcia and Hunters initial burst of Americana, debuted in late 1972, Half-Step took a
few years to develop its rushing flow. The songs spirited tempo and carefree farewells to Southern skies placed it
squarely in both first and second set-opener positions as a crowd favorite.
Told from the perspective of a cheating gambler embracing a life on the run, Mississippi Half-Step Uptown
Toodleloo remained intact stylistically and structurally from its 1972 debut through the bands last tour in 1995. The
song found Robert Hunter continuing to portray American dreamers with lyrics both ambiguous and specific,
including a line about losing ones boots that seems to echo Garcias own life-altering brush with death in a 1960 car
crash, in which he was literally blown from his shoes.
In a near-perfect Boston performance on May 7, 1977, Garcias voice is sweet and strong. Keith Godchaux brings the
Dixieland piano as Bob Weir expertly places his rhythm arpeggios snugly alongside Garcias crisp and clear leads. The
drummers press hard as Garcia fans power chords in the lead-up to the songs refrain, the sound of a band riding the
rapids together. Pulling back into a three-part harmony, a crescendo dissolves into a version of Johnny Cashs Big
River for the ages. Cori Taratoot
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: April 2, 1990 The Omni, Atlanta, Ga. On a transcendent spring night with the band in top form,
Garcia soothes and brightens, finding the Bands The Weight and a loving Southern audience in the closing chords.
Scarlet Begonias > Fire On the

Mountain
May 8, 1977
Barton Hall, Ithaca, N.Y.
Written by: Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter/Mickey Hart and Robert Hunter
A canonical studio-perfect take with its own underground legend, and a whole family tree of beautiful relatives.
The Scarlet Begonias>Fire on the Mountain pairing was introduced in 1977 and soon became a popular mainstay
as a second-set opener. Scarlet, a lysergic Hunter-Garcia ode to a girl, had been around for several years, and to
many old hands was at its freshest in 1974, as a stand-alone first-set morsel of syncopated polyphony: peak
Kreutzmann, every instrument ricocheting off the rest. Fire, introduced in 1977 by the drummer Mickey Hart, with
an uncharacteristically foundational bass line and a taste of calypso, became a springboard for knee-bending Garcia
solos. In the early '80s, the song gained muscle with the addition of keyboardist Brent Mydland's B3. The transition
between the two was typically an excursive delight with whiffs of Coltrane and Ives.
Choosing the best is nigh impossible, in light of all the variables; the crispest Scarlet may have been followed by a
less-than-transcendent transition or a draggy Fire. I and a team of fellow nerds have spent weeks re-listening, and
are no closer to a consensus. The most widely canonized version is from Barton Hall, 5/8/77, a surprise actual top 10
hit when it was finally released this year for its 40th anniversary. Overrated, in my book, but its as good a starter kit as
any: fewer flaws. They played Scarlet > Fire well and often that month. Each rendition seems to have its partisans.
Its propulsive, joyful vigor was perhaps the most consistent manifestation of a band on a hot streak. Nick
Paumgarten
Key Later Version: November 30, 1980 Fox Theater, Atlanta, Ga. Big sound, sly swagger, regal solos, a complex and
careening transition, and a more than respectable Fire.
Key Earlier Scarlet Begonias: June 16, 1974 Iowa State Fairgrounds, Des Moines, Iowa. An ace example of the
standalone cowbell-less Scarlet with a puzzlebox jam that contains infinite futures.
Sugaree
May 22, 1977
Hollywood Sportatorium, Hollywood, Fla.
Easygoing standard for both the Dead and the 70s & 80s incarnations of the Jerry Garcia Band for Jerry to get
loose in C.
Sugaree, a platform for soulful Garcia vocals and guitar, is an exercise in contrast, soaring above the emotionally
trying narrative of intimate entanglements. When debating about the best versions of Sugaree there is always talk of
Garcias solos, but that implies that the rest of the band lays back. Its the telepathic double drumming of Bill
Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart that makes this an essential Sugaree on an East Coast tour where all 10 versions of the
song feature their own enormous charms. Here, Phil Leshs lopey bass climbs around the drummers pounding
rhythms like a winding vine; Bob Weir, Keith Godchaux, and Garcia are effervescent buds blooming. The song eases
into a lullaby rocking before one final emphatic reminder Just dont tell em you know me, sung by Garcia, his voice
at its most empathetic. Buzz Poole
What to Listen For: Uncharacteristically uncomplicated lyrics by Robert Hunter, invested with great meaning and
intent by Garcia.
Key Later Version: June 5, 1993 Giants Stadium, East Rutherford, N.J. At over 14 rollicking minutes this Sugaree
proves that up until the very end the Dead could still produce surprises that wowed even the most jaded head. The
whole band is in fine form, and the slight nasal frailty of Garcias voice only enhances the lyrical drama.
Wharf Rat
May 22, 1977
Hollywood Sportatorium, Hollywood, Fla.
Epic redemption from Garcia and Hunter, capable of stunning quiet in enormous venues.
Despite the fluffy flower-power image of the Grateful Dead, much of the bands actual catalog is made up of action-
packed outlaw tunes of the type usually associated with Waylon Jennings or Johnny Cash. Drinking, gambling,
gunfights, bastard children, and freight trains are favored subjects, often all in the same song. The slow, stormy
Garcia/Hunter hobo tune, Wharf Rat, first played in 71, is from that hard-edged tradition, but it stands out for being
a character study rather than a chase scene. A hypnotically curling minor key groove gives way to an even quieter vocal
bridge that edges as close as the Grateful Dead gets to gospel. Until, that is, Garcia and co. unleashing a holy squall of
redemptive sound and the powerful refrain, Ill get up and fly away! If that sounds like church to you, say your
prayers to 5/22/77, when the band truly maximizes the extreme dynamics of the song. Will Welch
What to Listen For: In just over nine minutes, the Dead go from the quietest quiet to the loudest loud and back
again, always with plenty of open space for full Phil Lesh bass maneuvers.
Lore: Recognizing a fellow alcoholic in Wharf Rats August West, a group of Deadheads founded the Wharf Rats in
1984, a group that gathered under yellow balloons at Dead setbreaks, and who remain a fixture at post-Garcia
incarnations and even shows by cover bands.
Help On The Way > Slipknot! >

Franklins Tower
June 9, 1977
Written by: Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter/Grateful Dead/Jerry Garcia, Bill Kreutzmann, and Robert Hunter
Two parts of psychedelic prog followed by an extended three-chord bliss-out.
Written during the year the band spent off the road in 1975, Help on the Way/Slipknot!/Franklins Tower moves
between the peak Dead prog of the suites first two parts to the unambiguous major key release one of the Deads all-
time three-chord jam wonders. Though they nailed a memorably sparkling version at its debut in75 (building up
under Bill Graham's member-by-member introduction) and pushed the instrumental Slipknot! to the far reaches
during various excursions in76, the final version from the band's legendary spring 77 touring season was perhaps the
truest map of the suite's tricky paths, space valleys, and infinitely ascending boogie. The penultimate take before
shelving the trio (though not Franklin's Tower) until the early '80s, Garcia occupies Robert Hunter's existential plea
for love on "Help on the Way", extending the elliptical mood right up to the edge of confusion during the ensuing
Slipknot!. During Franklin's Tower, especially on a fan-made mix blending an audience recording with a
soundboard, as the band jam through chorus after chorus for the hometown dancers, one can almost feel the balcony
shake at Winterland, the former ice skating rink that was the Dead's local venue in San Francisco for most of the '70s.
Jesse Jarnow
What to Listen For: Usually played to open sets, Help on the Way and Slipknot were as tricky and composed as
the Dead got, their execution a virtuosic feat by itself.
Listen: Archive.org
Key Later Version: October 8, 1989 Hampton Coliseum, Hampton, Va. During one of two bust-out filled shows
billed as Formerly the Warlocks, the band picked up Help on the Way/Slipknot!/Franklins Tower for the first
time in a half-decade and reasserted their older, weirder selves.
Jack Straw
December 29, 1977
Written by: Bob Weir and Robert Hunter
Bob Weirs first great song, cinematic Americana debuted in 1971 that took on a variety of moods over the years.
Among Robert Hunters most unflinching takes on American frontier ethics, early readings of Jack Straw were
psychedelic countryGarcia and Keith Godchaux in full Bakersfield mode, Weirs tenor quaveringbut jam-free. In
later periods, subtlety could be at a premium, but the instrumental build and interplay could be fierce, with
opportunities for Phil Lesh to drop resonating bass bombs. Perhaps the perfect, most balanced Straw took place
somewhere in 1977, when narration, performance and jam all crackled. This opener to a magically under-rated New
Years stand burns from the get-go, sacrificing nothing. The drummers gallop pushes the music, while Garcias lead
lines play the part of a majestic dramaturg, even accenting his one small point of pride line with gusto. It is Cormac
McCarthy-meets-Ansel Adams stuff, and when the twin-guitar power-chords drop into the tales denouement
another ballad of the Grateful dead, no less, the folktale from which the band drew their namethe energy is blazing.
Piotr Orlov
Key Later Version: January 11, 1979 Nassau Coliseum, Uniondale, N.Y. Used to play for acid, now we play for
Clive, Bob Weir sings, referencing their new record company boss, Clive Davis, just before a crackling jam where
Garcias lysergic-bluegrass guitar burns hot and Phil provides the bombs.
Watch: August 27, 1972 Old Renaissance Fairgrounds, Veneta, Ore. A perfectly executed take of the songs lean early
incarnation, with airy one-drummer dynamics and wide-open three-part vocals from Weir, Garcia, and Lesh.
The Music Never Stopped

February 3, 1978
Dane County Coliseum, Madison, WI
Written by: Bob Weir and John Perry Barlow
Bob Weir and John Perry Barlows classic meta-boogie
Of all the Deads post-Europe 72 live war-horses, few were born as eminently ready for the limelight as Weirs Blues
For Allah gem. (Even its 8/13/75 debut is often praised as perfect.) Yet in late 77/early 78, the band did futz with the
songs arrangement, making all future Music jams two-part affairs. Between the end of the lyrics, and the repetitive
closing drive on the central melody, there appeared a waltzing build of an interlude, called, by some, on the bubble;
and when the two parts clicked, end-of-first-set nirvana was sure to occur. Which is exactly what transpired in the
familiar confines of the Dane County Coliseum. The reading of the song is fun and taut Phil chugging, Garcia picking
(and cooing a wonderful harmony), Donna Jean and Bob in great voice but the fireworks alight around 3:12. The
first great on the bubble! Garcia floats heavenwards, the drummers and Lesh close behind, Weir and Keith soon
locking into the rising. The crescendo back into the Music theme is flawless, before the Captain leads a stomping
boogie towards set-break. So well arranged, its hard to call it a jam. Piotr Orlov
Estimated Prophet
December 26, 1979
Oakland Auditorium, Oakland, Calif.
Written by: Bob Weir and John Perry Barlow
Grateful Dead-style paranoid space-dub weirdness via Bob Weir, a building block for elongated second set jam
suites.
Debuted during the well-oiled year of 1977, Bob Weir and lyricist John Perry Barlows Estimated Prophet captured
late 70s hippie paranoia in the form a of a slinky 7/8 reggae groove. A lope spacious enough for the bands drummers,
it became a platform for the endless avuncular chattering of Jerry Garcias Mu-tron-drenched lead guitar, and a
reliable entrance to the type of moody, heady psychedelia that was all too often missing from the Deads new material
in later years. Though one of the few effective homes for Keith Godchauxs Polymoog synth, it wasn't until Brent
Mydland replaced him in 1979 that the song really opened up. On opening night of Mydlands first New Years run, the
band pushed almost the 20-minute mark. Garcias mid-song solo is dripping and dubby, though the jam itself
doesnt really take off until about 14 minutes in, when Garcia jumps out of 7-time and into the free territories, Weir
steps in for co-noodle duty, Phil Lesh drops into a thrilling bassline reminiscent of the Deads long-shelved Caution
(Do Not Stop on the Tracks) and Mydlands keyboards bounce so precisely they sound like modular synth. Jesse
Jarnow
Key Later Version: September 22, 1993 Madison Square Garden, New York, N.Y. Free jazz saxophone hero David
Murray duets with Bob Weir's scat singing and Vince Welnick's plinking keyboards before the main event, howling in a
buzzing jet-plane dogfight with Garcia's MIDI-ready guitar in front of a sold-out arena.
Shakedown Street
December 31, 1984
San Francisco Civic Center, San Francisco, Calif.
The Dead delve into disco-funk darkness with plenty of room for (wait for it) Jerrys guitar. First song, first set (or
second)translation: its party time.
Disco Dead, sneered some of the faithful at the title cut from the Deads 1978 album. Somehow, fans found the idea
of boogying to an endless groove untenable when it involved wearing something other than tie-dye. Meanwhile, the
Deads loose double-drumming never quite fit even with the counterculture-weaned DJs at the birth of disco. But time
has shown the lasting potency of both approaches, while the tapes let us hear the sparks when they connect.
Shakedown Street was the Deads most overt funk move yet, aided and abetted on album by producer Lowell George
of Little Feat (speaking of white-boy longhairs who liked to get down). Per usual, years of playing around with the
groove, not to mention that sneaky descending three-note riff, both tightened and liquefied the music. Leading off with
it on New Years Eve amounted to a mission statement. So did Garcia fanning out solos, with and without his pedals
(check the lovely single-note flurries around 11:00), like he was born to boogie-oogie-oogie, too. Michaelangelo
Matos
What to Listen For: At 7:30, Jerry and his wah-wah pedal decide to have a little conversation.
Key Later Version: September 22, 1991 Boston Garden, Mass. The Grateful Dead plus touring pianist Bruce
Hornsby and the arena energy of the east coast, a more intense fanbase than their more laidback California home.
Touch of Grey
December 15, 1986
Oakland Coliseum Arena, Oakland, Calif.
With perfectly wry lyrics, the Deads only top 10 single was still a source of musical conversation when played live.
Most Dead songs underwent their greatest gestational shifts in performance, but count on the biggest outlier of their
career to have evolved differently. Robert Hunter had written Touch of Grey in 1980 as, in Garcias words, a sort of
dry, satirical piece with an intimate feel and Garcia decided to rework the melody and a couple of the lines;. We will
get by said something to me, so I set it to play big, he said after the song came out. My version still has the ironic bite
of the lyrics, but what comes across is a more celebratory quality. Debuted by the Dead in 1982, the songs lyrics
changed slightly but parameters remained tight for most of the Deads history. But that rousing chorus and chiming
melody made it that most improbable of Dead artifacts: a natural hit single. Opening the first Dead show after Jerrys
debilitating coma in 1986, its jolly defiance set the tone for what, improbably, would be the Deads biggest year to date.
Nearly 20 years after the Summer of Love, the Deads first bona fide mainstream radio hit inspired a new generation to
hit the road, even as it dodged the sneers of an older cohort that dismissed them as Touchheads. Michaelangelo
Matos
What to Listen For: The crowd going ape-shit the first time Garcia hits I will survive at this and any version after.
Listen: Archive.org
Key Proto Version: Robert Hunter solo, October 26, 1982 The Landmark, Kingston, N.Y. Both caustic and
optimistic solo, songwriter Robert Hunters early version finds its own (almost) equally charming setting for the
lyrics.
So Many Roads
July 9, 1995
Soldier Field, Chicago, Ill.
One of Jerry Garcias last original songs, debuted in 1992, a powerful late career statement. Part of a final
songwriting burst with Robert Hunter, So Many Roads was one of several introspective songs that were powerful
highlights during the Deads uneven last years, including The Days Between and Lazy River Road.
The Grateful Deads final show is, inevitably, a rough listen, mostly owing to Jerry Garcias audibly declining health
at this point he had just a month to live. Even with Teleprompter assistance, he fumbles over lyrics he had sung
hundreds of times. Hes clearly struggling with some of the guitar work, including an utterly botched solo on
Unbroken Chain. But even in this defiled state, Garcia could dig deep and rise to the occasion. World-weary and
allusion-heavy, the band never completed a studio recording of So Many Roads. At Soldier Field, Garcia finds
moments of quiet grace in the thicket of the latter-day Deads clatter, delivering sparkling solos, finally leaning into an
extended emotional closing chorus over appropriately Knockin On Heavens Door-esque backing vocals. And then,
as if to break the spell in the most inappropriate fashion possible, the Grateful Dead transition into keyboardist Vince
Welnicks godawful Samba in the Rain. Nevertheless, it sounded as if Garcia had, for a little while, eased his soul.
Tyler Wilcox
Key Earlier Version: October 1, 1994 Boston Garden, Mass. Even the most hardened '90s skeptics will almost
surely by gobsmacked by Garcia's final vocal eruptions, hitting a reserve he never quite possessed even in his youth.

The Grateful Dead. A Guide To Their Essential Live Songs

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The Grateful Dead: A Guide to Their

Essential Live Songs

A Users Guide to the Grateful Dead

Cream Puff War

Viola Lee Blues

Mountains of the Moon

Friend of the Devil

Turn On Your Love Light

The Other One

China Cat Sunflower > I Know You

Playing in the Band

Weather Report Suite: Prelude/Part

Here Comes Sunshine

Eyes of the World

Uncle Johns Band

Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodleloo

Scarlet Begonias > Fire On the

Help On The Way > Slipknot! >

The Music Never Stopped

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