The date was on my calendar for months. In some ways, the anticipation of a Saturday afternoon of Dead and Company is its own reward.
Andy and I rolled down to the show with plenty of time to navigate the parking quandary. We parked in a church. A good sign.
Heading toward Shakedown we heard the band soundcheck Althea. There was some revolution in the air.
Wandering amidst the tie dye, we ran into some expected and unexpected faces. I ate a delicious chicken thigh courtesy of Rusty. I met someone whose actual birthday was 6/29. That was significant for reasons that are too lengthy to articulate.
We queued up with plenty of time to spare. A lesson learned last summer. We found a spot on the lawn with full view of the band. The joint was jumping, the place was packed.
Out came the band. Memory may be playing tricks on me but it looked like they changed their on-stage formation. Jeff and Otiel switched sides maybe? The band was a close-knit community. They looked tight and cohesive.
I’d been reviewing recent setlists and was excited by the presence of enormous tunes in both first and second sets. I was ready.
The opening notes of Scarlet Begonias rang out. The feeling of Deja Vu set in. Were we ever here at all? They opened with Scarlet at this same venue two Junes ago. That show had great songs, and some real highlights, but was overall a plodding and lethargic wandering. And so it was last night.
My stomach sank a little bit when John took a long pass through the melodic jam of Scarlet. Great notes, but where’s the energy? Where’s the lightning bolt to the forehead? For better or worse, it never came.
There were some highlights– a Loose Lucy in the middle of an odd but interesting Bird Song to close Set 1. The timeless epic of Terrapin in the 2nd set. But it never boiled over. The fire came, but it came late and it came weak. In the form of an encore.
With a Scarlet opener and a Fire encore, one can certainly argue that the show had a narrative arc, that there was story. But with West LA followed by Tennesse Jed, it felt like the promise of coherence remained elusive. The tight knit stage alignment didn’t translate into a passionate rendering of the Greatest Story Ever Told, at least musically.
As I thought about why I still enjoyed the evening, in spite of the band, many reasons came to mind. Hanging out with Andy and an extended crew of Atlanta friends and fellow heads. The cool breeze that came as the sun went down in honey and the moon came up in wine (they played a lackluster version of that classic as well). The yellow sky, the blue sun etc. But it really boils down to this– as I sang along with Terrapin, I was reminded– this music has a life of its own. There is something so vital and powerful in the tunes themselves, that they will, forever, find ways to be heard. Those tunes will always be the music that plays the band. Like the Red Violin, like Jumanji, the music demands to be performed, enjoyed, and honored. It is a scripture, a sacrament, and we are all intentionally imperfect players in the Heart of Gold Band.