Perfect soundboard audio of the debut of the Garcia-Grisman band (JGDG) at Sweetwater in Mill Valley came into the light a few weeks back.
It has now been sync'd to video and Christopher Hazard has worked his 4k wizardry on it.
Thanks to all involved in doing this work. We have an absolute gem of a copy of pivotal addition to Jerry's late life.
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Campolindo High School alumnus and sound engineer extraordinaire Marcus Buick kept a little journal of his own and his taping buddies' battles against one particularly dedicated Warfield security guy, by the name of Oren David Green. Apparently, at least in '89 and into '90, he was not a BGP bluecoat, but worked for VIP security. Bu kept a running score, and it was good guys 4 (successful complete shows pulled) and Oren 2 (busts) after the last Garcia Band show of '89. Oren then went on a little run to start the new year. He seems to have successfully kept the tapers away from the best recording location in the house, "The Spot" on the first drink rail. Rob Darroch and Sara Paul managed to pull complete analog masters from there the first night, February 2, 1990, but the digital tapers got busted during the first song. On February 3, Buick, Rick Katzeff and Tom Hughes (Campolindo '87) were able to pass equipment, hop seats, and relocate to get the 1st set from row M of the upper balcony, but got busted set II. On Sunday the 4th, Bu finally managed to digitally pull a whole show, but only by jamming his Josephsons into the right floor speaker stack from about a foot away, far too close. Oren thus played the digikids to a tie for the weekend, impressive given how committed and enterprising they were. (To give an indication of this, note that some soundboard material circulates from this run, derived from recordings made by splitting wire running to the hallway speakers, a technique first accomplished at the Lunt Fontanne in 1987, as far as I know.)
So, the tapes are generally sub-optimal, and I know well that this can color my listening experience. Historically, I have found these shows to be just sort of "meh", perhaps partly because of recording limitations and perhaps also from reasoning motivated to support my "one year too late" thesis about the double-live album: as great as that album is --and I do think it's great--, I think it would have been even better if they had taped in '88 and '89, when things were fresher and peppier. By 1990, to my ears, Jerry is sounding a little more fatigued. I like the March 1-2 shows a good deal, remember finding the April shows to be "meh", definitely find the June shows to be relatively weak, have formed no opinion on August, and think things are hotter in November, after GD keyboardist Brent Mydland had died and Jerry seemed to transfer some amount of energy over to the JGB.
I want to revisit all of these and see how my older assessments hold up, and I began over the last week with the February 2-4 shows. The key setlist interest here is the arrival into the Garcia Band repertoire of Dylan's "Señor (Tales Of Yankee Power)" and Dylan and Richard Manuel's "Tears Of Rage", both of which were added, I imagine, with the album in mind. The Señor from 4/15/90 did make it onto the release, while Tears of Rage would wait to be released until the version from that same date appeared on the posthumous How Sweet It Is record (Grateful Dead Records GDCD 4051, April 1997). The former stuck around for over four years --note that Jerry had also played it once at the Warfield with Dylan, way back in 1980-- while the latter lasted less than a year in the repertoire, much to my chagrin. Both find Jerry reaching way down into deep darkness, full of mournful pathos that well-suited his old man period. On their maiden voyages of this February weekend (Señor appeared all three nights, Tears the last two), they show their newness. Things aren't entirely pinned down in terms of Jerry's own or the backing vocals, he hasn't settled into the tunes yet, and so they sound a little uneven. But that is not to say they don't sound great - they do. Whoever picked these tunes for the Garcia Band --one presumes either Jerry or his musical director, bassist John Kahn-- picked well.
Generally, the shows exhibit I haven't-played-live-in-a-month-itis, which is perfectly reasonable. Jerry headed out to Kona and took no fewer than 26 plunges with Jack's Dive Locker between January 6 and 29, 1990. January '88 found him tan and healthy in a Hawaiian shirt playing the "Blues For Salvador" benefit with Wayne Shorter, Carlos Santana, and lots of others. January '89, again in post-scubal bliss, found him warming up the first night out (1/27/89) and then dropping a true masterpiece of a show on 1/28/89, though the Dead shows the next week were, well, pretty weak.
None of these February 1990 Warfield shows reaches those peaks, though there are plenty of strong moments. The first two nights, especially, he flubs all kinds of lyrics, like throughout practically every tune. The first night is pretty short for a 90s Warfield show, though I note some nice peppy tempi and an "I Second That Emotion" that is worth a listen. The second night, I don't note much. The set II opener, "Harder They Come", is not present on any circulating tapes, though we can pretty well imagine what it must have sounded like. 2/4/90 is the best show of the run, to my ears, though it's still pretty uneven. I took real notice that he went up an octave to sing the last stanza of Señor, "this place don't make sense to me anymore", which gives it a really worried tone fit to put weaker listeners into the nervous hospital. I think it was like that all three times here, and I doubt it would ever be that way again.
All in all, I enjoyed listening to this three shows as a whole run. I think I will do more of that. Because even though things can get repetitive, it does provide something like a consistent baseline, allowing little things (like the pretty fun "Let's Spend The Night Together" to open set II on 2/3) to stand in sharper relief. I wouldn't tell you to grab these as a first choice from the year -- go ahead and get the record for that. But they do strike me as pretty straightforwardly representative of what the Jerry Band was up to as the 1990s got going.
Listening notes below the fold.
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When you say something sucked, or point to some darkness, you are scandal-mongering. When you rave, your are homer-fanboying. In all cases it's subjective. But, fuck it - it's my blog, and these are my impressions, and if you want to compare notes put 'em in comments or somewhere's else I can find 'em!
The JGB show at the cavernous SF Civic on December 22, 1990 is a late masterpiece.
There, I said it.
I cannot believe the many levels on which this show works. Garcia sounds very much like he wants to be playing this very music with this very band for these very fans on this very night in this very room. The 90-minute second set is not just an artifact of DAT taping, because not one but two songs happen after the big jam of "Don't Let Go". This is one of the longest sets of the post-coma Garcia Band, maybe the longest. Someday I will be able to show a time series testing this claim.
That's not to say that it's a gigglefest. Indeed, notes of nostalgia, sadness, world-weariness, a little darkness and edge definitely strike. But so do moments of light, easy joy.
My post on 11/15/90 referenced the "rehearsed, post-Brent Garcia Band", and I think both the claim and the allusion were spot on. The allusion to Brent speaks to the emotional range on display, on my subjective hearing. Brent's death hit him hard, and the Grateful Dead, to my subjective hearing, was never really the same. (Bob Weir agrees, by his own telling in the Long Strange Trip documentary, Act VI, around 22:45.) I guess Vince was a nice enough guy, but, in my certainly controversial and not-intentionally mean view, the band's sound verged on the ersatz with him in it. It is conventionally claimed that Garcia enjoyed his own band more than the GD for these last five years or so (i.e., post-Brent), and, as I have said, he certainly sounds very much like this is where he wants to be on this particular night. So if the sadness and world-weariness reflect the emotional toll of the losses he had experienced (which would further accumulate with Bill Graham's passing 10+ months later), the joy and lightness reflect the comfort of playing easy tunes with an easy band in an easy setting. That's my story, anyway.
And, the band speaks to the "rehearsed" part of my earlier analysis. I have no evidence of this, but this band absolutely sounds like it has been rehearsing. This will not appear in my notes, I don't think, but the Jerryettes are doing more and more forward work here than earlier in the year. I wish I had some digital musicologist on hand to check arrangements and quantify these things, but all I can go on is my impression. I don't think it's just the tape. The arrangements seem to invite the ladies to be more involved and more audible. Melvin Seals, for his part, is playing electric piano, organ and synth here. As with vocals, I don't have any firm baseline data around Melvin's instrumentation. I wish someone would dig into this stuff so I don't have to - when was he playing synth? Anyway, there's just tons of range on display here, lots of colors and textures and tones.
Here are a few song-centered bullet points to illustrate some of the wide spectrum of highlights.
Mission In The Rain: Hunter called this one of the only explicitly autobiographical songs he wrote for Garcia, and being at the SF Civic, right downtown across from the library, late in the year (solstice or a day off of it), Jerry definitely sounds nostalgic. His guitar work is contemplative, gentle, very soft and round and comforting. He picks out his words carefully. Beautiful.
Señor, Throw Out The Lifeline -> Let's Spend The Night Together: Garcia displays huge emotional range across these three tunes. The nautical themes of the first two connect them to Mission in the autobiographical sense, young Jerry having spent a chunk of his childhood at his mom's waterfront bar, "where the sailors all come in", soaking in the gin-and-cigarette scented salt air and their wild and wooly tales of the sea. They also unify in dark imagery, with Dylan's wicked wind necessitating Edward Uffin's lifesaving action (h/t Allen):
Throw out the life line to danger fraught men,Sinking in anguish where you’ve never been;Winds of temptation and billows of woeWill soon hurl them out where the dark waters flow
They part ways tonally, though, and again this gives expression to the post-Brent Jerry Band, the dark Armageddon of death that we all confront leavened by the lived realities of at least local and temporary salvation, not least through music. The song lilts along pleasantly enough, bringing a little bit of redemption. And my goodness, the music that follows! Garcia absolutely cuts loose on this version of LSTNT, with some absolutely huge, raging guitar. I used to think this was the BOAT version, but on this listen it didn't strike me that way. It seems like it was just great in this period, as my notes from a month earlier, 11/21/90, remind me. The relentlessness of his attack here certainly speaks to ongoing vitality - check it out.
So much for set I. As I noted above, set II clocks in at almost 90 minutes, which is pretty dang amazing, but the quality matches the quantity quite nicely.
The Way You The Things You Do: the Temptations' 1964 original of this sweet little piece clocked in around three straightforward minutes. As I first observed in listening to 11/15/90, the band seems to have extended the arrangement in this period, giving it a big open part that, if this were the GD or Jerry had other aims for his side band, could very well have segued into something else. Indeed, I nominated that version for BOAT consideration, but now, having heard this one from a month later, think 12/22's is even better. That one went out about 7-8 minutes in, this one I really noted it decoupling a minute or so later. But these versions would be worth comparing, others from this period will bear paying attention to, and I would *love* for someone to compare what they are doing here with how it played out earler in the year. I note that the 6/12/90 version clocks in as long as this one, but I generally find that show and the next night to be very sluggish, and I specifically noted this tune as "low energy". It's not fast here, not at all, but it's rich and deep and interesting.
Tore Up Over You: Few songs invoke the imagery of young Jerry, inspired by older brother Tiff, listening to (Black) R&B-cum-rock 'n' roll on the Oakland and SF AM stations in the 1950s than this Hank Ballard number. It wormed its way into his DNA and operated just as systematically on his playing. And here he plays some seriously shredding electric guitar that can reach back in time to melt the conformist shackles of Eisenhower's (White) America. You can hear the joyful transgression, the wide freedom he has to play what he wants, and loud! Ballard's version came out in '56, and I have little doubt but that it caught young Jerry's ear early on, and that he at least noodled it when he got his first electric guitar two years later. I don't know any of that, but you can't prove it didn't happen, so there.
Don't Let Go: always a highlight. This version interests me. When he brought it back in '88 it was a punchy 8-9 minute treat. I think it would run over 20 minutes again within the next few years. It's in Goldilocks-land here, 15 expressive minutes. Melvin's synth really colors it beautifully early on, at 4:45 Garcia doubles the vocals and guitar very precisely and totally uniquely, showing great intention, and it starts getting a little weird already 6 minutes in, Ballard giving way to Coltrane, with a dose of Kesey/Owsley for good measure. Kemper is such an amazing drummer, and things keep bouncing until about 9, Garcia pedals in some effect, and we are fully unmoored for awhile, but not super long. At 10:26, it returns to structure, but not the DLG melody, per se, alluding to it while still out melodically. (I am not sure I am using the right words here.) He spends some time in that space and drops into DLG at 13, closing these particular proceedings. Nice.
On almost every other night, at this point we'd get one more song. Here, we get two, and while I can often make mountains out of molehills, I want to really emphasize that I think this is highly informative. Autopilot would have taken him to Midnight Moonlight. An alternate flight path would have been straight to Tangled Up In Blue. Instead, we get a little "Struggling Man", again giving perfect expression to the emotional tenor of the evening - it's hard, but we keep going. Saying good night after Tangled Up, he sounds absolutely wiped out, and justifiably so. Man gave is all this night. Thank you, Jerry!
Man, what a show! Two snaps up, with a swirl. Listening notes below the fold.
This was the first year since the 1980's that there was no Greek and Frost shows, which was a bummer. Fortunately Uncle Bill booked the band into Cal Expo. It was not the Greek, but it was good.
For me, these shows were stressful, but that was somewhat normal. I always felt the pressure of making the best recording at the show. It was not as much of an ego thing as much as it was that I believed I was capturing "the record" for the show. This was especially true when I knew that none of my Schoeps / Digital posse was going to be there. And that was the case for Cal Expo in 1990.
The stress and planning for these shows started the day mail order was announced. I had just had knee surgery and knew I was going to be on crutches in June. Worse, I needed to plan for who was going to help as the show was general admission and I wanted to run spaced omi-directional capsules which would require managing a large territory. I would need a plan and of course help. While I might have owned the gear, positioned the mics and hit play/record, good recordings were a 100% team effort. And I needed a team!
For me, the key to making a good recording always seems to come down down to a few key things:
From my knowledge of the venue, basically an open field, Schoeps MK2s spaced omni-directional capsules were my first choice. I would be using them with my Doug Oade built microphone power supply and a relatively new recording device: a DAT. Sometime in 1989 the PCM crew made the jump to using DATs. At these gig's I was using the Panasonic SV250.
- Having the right gear for the application.
- Placing the microphones in the right spot to get the best balanced sound in the venue.
- Controlling the people around the microphones so that talking and extraneous noise is not heard or only minimally heard on the recording.
Location, location, location.... From my show experience and listening pleasure, I always wanted to be as close to the Front of House console as possible. If you think about it, the band's audio engineer, Dan Healy, is mixing first and foremost for himself. Is he making it sound good in the entire venue, sure. But the nature of mixing a room has it that the sound is naturally best where the engineer is standing. My goal: get in front of, but as close to Dan as possible without making it too easy for security to come in and get us. As a reminder, although taping in 1990 was allowed, it was only allowed BEHIND the front of house console. Recording in front of the console was a big No No and as such, put us at risk of being thrown out every time we recorded there. Risky business every show for me.
For spaced omni's I would need two areas (blankets), one for each mic between 8' and 12 ' apart - with each mic being equidistant from the stage. Today I would do this with a laser measure, but in 1990, not an option. So I had to triangulate using the front of house console and the side grandstands. More "feel" than exact science.
To pull this off I would need 4 to 6 people around each microphone and stand and two to three blankets. That's roughly ten people and two mic stands to coordinate and manage.
The bad news was that I was on crutches - which, was also the good news as I was able to enter the venue early with the blankets, the gear and a helper. We laid out our spot and waited untill friends and people sympathetic to our recording arrived.
As I was always trying to figure out how to make a better recording, I decided to try and move the microphones from closer to 8' on the 8th, 10' on the 9th and 12' on the 10th. I know the notes on this say the mics were spread at 8', but I just checked my notes and this night we were closer to 9.5'.
While I hate to leave people out that helped at the show, and there were many - I need to special thanks a couple of peeps. First and foremost, my helper extraordinaire Cindy R. Calling her a helper is not quite right. These days I would call her a co-producer or associate producer. She helped in the planning, standing in line, getting friends over to help stand near the mics and telling them all to be quiet. I should probably mentioned she also put up with my crazy "taper" idiosyncrasies - and I had many. Thanks Cindy R! I also remember our friend Marc T. was also there. He was there with B&K 4011's in the middle of our spaced omni's. Also there an of huge help was Marcus B. and Tom - my old roomies! Thanks Dudes.
The recordings for all three nights turned out pretty fine. I would say some of our finest. So fine in fact, a friend of shared them with his pal who was tight with Dan Healy. The next thing I know he had digital soundboards of all three nights! Of course the SB's became the "goto" recordings for the shows for a while. But upon further review from the officials in the booth, these recordings get me closer to what it was like being there on those warm summer nights in 1990.
On the 9th, I can still remember Garcia rocking back and forth during lovelight looking offstage at someone, playing his heart out with an energy that filled us all up.
It was good.
Between the windows of the seaharmonizing behind Weir, who delivers a BOAT-contending version. Outstanding!
Where lovely mermaids flow
About 17 years ago, Garcia and I and Jules Broussard (a local sax player) played for the inmates at San Quentin Prison. All the inmates at the gig were musicians and they all brought their horns and we all played together. We did the gig in the room that used to house the gallows.I don't have a lot to add, except that I sure would like to learn more! I wonder if records of this sort of thing might be requestable under some kind of state of California open records provision?
