The Romanesque Church Design Was Based On The Roman Basilica: Discuss (JGB at the Knick in Albany, November 3, 1993)

I just marveled at the almost 90-minute second set offered up on 12/22/90, and got to wondering about post-coma others that might match or beat it in duration. I recalled some long sets on the 11/93 tour, recalled that I had unposted (because not very informative) notes on 11/3/93 (my 23rd birthday, though I was somewhere in the vicinity of Monterey, CA), and checked them out.

Indeed, 89+ for this set II. We are envisioning being able to analyze real data on set and show durations via Jerrybase at some point in the not-too-distant future.

The show is maybe below average for the tour overall, with a few guitar highlights that I mention in the notes below. The real interest lies in the impromptu version of  Elizabeth Cotten's "Freight Train", which Garcia plays with an acoustic sound as a 'quippie fixes a string on John's bass. First, he lets the crowd know what's going on: "We've gotta change a string on the bass. You can all talk amongst yourselves." This latter formulation absolutely, positively echoes Mike Myers' contemporaneous SNL skit "Coffee Talk" - I use it myself when equipment challenges interrupt my teaching. I may also give a topic, as Linda Richmond does in the skit. In my case, it's something on-topic like "Vladimir Putin: strong man, or the strongest man? Discuss." In hers, the title gives a sample subject.

Then, without further ado, Our Man in Albany starts picking the tune. Melvin Seals accompanies extremely well on piano, so well that it makes me wonder how he knew the tune, since it is not associated with the "Band Electric". Maybe they had worked it up? I certainly would have liked to hear it more. Anyway, Melvin's great, and he weaves in a few bars of Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer" for good measure, last heard (by me) in the JGB being done by the great (if very drunk) Nicky Hopkins on 12/31/75. Jerry gets the verses mostly sung, if a little imperfectly (see my rough transcription just below), and this whole thing is just a stone cold fucking delight.

1- (chorus) Freight train, freight train, run so fast | Freight train, freight train, run so fast | Please don't tell what train I'm on | They won't know what route I'm gone
2- When I'm died oh bury me deep | Down at the end ol' Chestnut Street | Place the stones at my head and feet | Tell 'em all I'm gone to sleep
3- (chorus) Freight train, freight train, run so fast | Freight train, freight train, run so fast | Please don't tell what train I'm on | They won't know what route I'm gone
4- When I'm dead and in my grave | No more good times here I'll crave | [mumblyverse] | Tell 'em all I'm gone to sleep
5- When I'm died oh bury me deep | Down at the end ol' Chestnut Street | So I can hear ol' number nine | as she goes rollin' by
6- (chorus)

Here are Elizabeth Cotten's lyrics:

Source: Cohen and Seeger 1964, 136

At 4:30, John drops a note of electric bass to signal that he's ready to play, one of his few contributions on this night, in the era when he mostly fluttered around pretty inaudibly.

The song is one of my favorites, a perfect choice for Garcia and Grisman's then-recently-released masterpiece Not For Kids Only (Acoustic Disc ACD-9, 1993), and something Garcia had played since the pre-Dead period (see Jerrybase for the overview). In the GD era (and so the GOTS era) it showed up in the studio around 1975-1976. Jerry played it live 4/10/82a, his only "modern" solo acoustic date, but it was pretty cursory, just two and a half minutes without a good handle on the words, before running into the Cotten tune he did a lot more and in a range of contexts, "Oh Babe, It Ain't No Lie". After this impromptu version eleven years later, it came up twice more in the 1994 Garcia-Grisman live sets before ol' Jer landed at the end ol' Chestnut Street himself.

For more on this tour, the Garcia Band's last out east, see also "The Reedman vs. the Gunslinger at at the Garden" (11/12/93), "Good Clean Fun" (11/14/93), the sweet little BS passes for this "Slack Tour" featuring Church of the SubGenius prophet J.R. "Bob" Dobbs, and take a gander at the crew tourbook.

Listening Notes below the fold.

The Reedman vs. The Gunslinger: JGB with David Murray, Madison Square Garden, November 12, 1993

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The man had conceived the band bearing his name as a way to scratch some musical itches, play some mostly consonant music with mostly-simpatico (or at least deferential) people, and make a little bit of walking around money. The Jerry Garcia Band provided its namesake with a comfortable and, eventually, highly lucrative musical diversion which allowed him to be himself, do most of the soloing, not have to figure out where Mickey Hart put the one, and maybe share some laughs (among other things that release endorphins, kill pain, and produce euphoria [Dunbar et al. 2012]) with his ol' buddy John Kahn.

Yet, Jerry was Jerry, with all that implied. Like Midas, everything he touched turned to gold, and that included his bar band, half of whose members played for free in Oakland churches on Sundays. By contrast, on Friday, November 12, 1993, this group sold out Madison Square Garden, grossing almost half a million as part of its twenty night, fifteen gig swing through the eastern time zone, its last real tour. Unlike a decade earlier, a relatively punishing bus tour with Garcia deep in heroin haze, this one was first class all the way, with the band staying in New York City and flying in and out of Teterboro, while battalions of squeaks (sound techs) and squints (light techs) did the heavy lifting. It seems like only half the gigs sold out, but these were mostly good-sized rinks and arenas with five-figure capacities, the kinds of places the Dead had been playing only a few years earlier.

The Garcia band's cozy sociality also meant that guest shots became scarce once the years' third digits turned to nines. The E Street Band's good-time "Big Man" Clarence Clemons sat in once in 1990, reprising his steady gigging with the JGB from late 1989, and banjo wiz Béla Fleck joined in on a couple of numbers at the Greek Theater in Berkeley two months later, in the dark early weeks following Brent Mydland's passing. As good as Fleck is, he played in a decidedly consonant mode, picking some pretty accompaniment to Pete Rowan's "Midnight Moonlight" and, doubly improbably, some mandolinish lead reggae banjo on "Harder They Come". The next fall, while still a member of the Dead, the great Bruce Hornsby sat in with Jerry in Hampton, Virginia, on the decade's other east coast swing, in November of 1991.

Hornsby certainly had the chops and the chutzpah to challenge Garcia, and he did so regularly in the Dead before stepping back off the scene to pursue his own extremely successful career, and perhaps to ward off the curse of the Dead's keyboard players. The one guy to really push Jerry around on his own stage was hotshot jazz saxophonist David Murray, who showed up two years after Hornsby's visit, and six weeks after sitting in with the Dead, at the aforementioned Madison Square Garden gig. The man BLEW, which is to have been expected. As Dead family insider Gary Lambert put it, "expecting a force of nature like David to function as a 'sideman' for the JGB (or any band) is kind of like saying to Jackson Pollock, 'Gee, I really admire your work. Now, could you paint me a nice Andrew Wyeth?'"

The reedman put some air into a number of very sharp notes, with a Garcia Band that was mostly soft, cottony round edges by this point in time. Garcia appears to have taken notice. Attendee Eric Pooley recalls that "Murray was in Garcia's face a little more than Garcia would have liked: [he] attacked, and Garcia retreated into shoetop space", chin on chest. Jim Powell observed that "Murray cut Jerry to shreds at that MSG Jerry Band show - maybe the only time old gunslinger Garcia ever came out on the short end." But the evidence of the night's "Lay Down Sally", normally a smooth, easy, good-time roller hewing closely to Clapton's original, belies this perspective, with all due respect to the poet and Macarthur Genius grantee who proffered it.

Segueing out of the churchy "My Sisters And Brothers", Garcia displayed little Christian charity in first feinting at the Stones' "Everybody Needs Somebody To Love", then shifting into "Lay Down Sally", taking a couple of extra measures at the start to let Murray his footing and thus making it, if not quite a fair fight, at least an honorable one. Typically, in the Garcia Band, Jerry gets the first solo (and usually the second, third and fourth). Here, Murray challenges the old fella in the light purple shirt right out of the gate, and they step on each other for a minute or two before Jerry lets him have his say, comprised of some sharp, loud bursts that might have blown back his shock-white mane. After that, still only fifty-one despite the white hair and haggard mien, the gunslinger drops the hammer, pursuing a million aggressive leads, syncopating some minor chords, and generally, all due apologies, not taking "no" for Sally's answer. Clocking in at over sixteen minutes, and finishing with an emphatic strum over the setbreak announcement, the "Lay Down Sally" from November 12, 1993 provides one of the finest musical displays of Garcia's late solo career, proving that he could still rise to a challenge when the occasion called for it.

I picked and chose from the two filesets named at the top, so some sketchy listening notes follow the fold. "Shining Star" also illustrates the reedman and the gunslinger trading blows, and both "The Maker" and "Don't Let Go" from the 86-minute second set are outstanding and worth your time.