ZONE
OUT with the ROLLING RIDER
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The Dead
Summer
Getaway Wrap-Up
"New York, Got the Ways and Means"
_____________________________________________________________
8/8/03 - Darien Lake
With the muse hovering above like a kite on a string, our archimage Robert
Hunter prefaced his set by informing us he was homeward bound after the
show, which he opened to a lucky crowd of about 300. By the finish, the
place was still only 1/3 full. Folks, let me remind you that one man gathers
what another man spills, and those that caught Mr. Hunter's set were truly
blessed.
Sauntering out almost unrecognizably, the poet laureate of pyschedelia
broke into a LOSER that included a transfixing guitar lead, eliciting
the most thunderous ovation musterable by the crowd. There was an immediate
connection between Hunter and the audience, emotions flying to and fro
like fireflies on a summer night. He slowed it down like a truck downshifting,
wishing to play a pretty song “before all the people come in and
make me rock out". Somehow, the tantalizingly beautiful SERAFINA
MAGDALINA, a fledgling effort, seemed perfectly familiar, his stage presence
morphing into a chrysalis mid-song, waiting to blossom.
"Time, time, time after time time time
we leave the loves of our lives behind
Serafina Magdalena
play a tune upon your cheap guitar
Hum along / don't worry 'bout the song
The words don't really matter
It don't even need to be in tune
Play play play till it feels okay
There's some things that you just cannot say"
On its elegant heels, Hunter delivered an emotionally charged TERRAPIN
STATION suite, calling up the Jack O’ Roses and all those that sang
with him. Ivory wheels on a rosewood track, and chasing a bayou girl named
Peggy-O. He then reminded us of the DAYS BETWEEN, velveteen hearts collecting
dust on the shelves of our souls, up in the attics of our lives. I felt
like Alice, when she said to the caterpillar, “I know who I WAS when
I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times
since then”.
RIPPLE signaled not so much an end but a beginning, setting the stage
for another sixties Shakespearian to fill the air with song: Robert Zimmerman.
His gunslinger like keyboard stance is so unique, fitting right in with
his lifelong dedication to doing things his way, even if they'd not been
done that way before. Dylan fired his opening salvo, MAGGIE’S FARM,
and I could see Joan right in Bob’s line of vision. Then, I see Bobby
“Ace” Weir waiting in the wings, and think nothing of it, as
he is a fan and probably just wanted to steal a glimpse of the master
at work.
Dylan starts out LOVE MINUS ZERO, followed by TWEEDLE DEE, and a MR. TAMBOURINE
MAN that featured a mesmerizing harp by the sagacious bard with
eyes like chunks of blue ice.
This is when things got a little Weir'd...
Bobby Weir,
dressed for the occasion in a sport coat and slacks, joins Dylan’s
sharp dressed band on his telecaster for HIGHWAY 61. Weir played outside
of his element to the delight of Dylan, conjuring up some very distinctive
and poignant guitar. At one point he went back to adjust his amp, and
came back to stage front and actually played lead. Weir showed his veteran
showmanship by just being a guy in the band right then, really reading
the other guys playing and adding constructively.
At one point I swear he was leading the band, pumping the jam harder and
faster, leading the crescendo and calling everyone back in, like he used
to do with Jer on Sugaree. Dylan let him do this with a smile. After that
number Weir slipped away after a really heartfelt thank you from Dylan,
who was noticeable impressed with his contribution. Dylan follows this
powerful moment with the best version I’ve ever heard of THIS WHEELS
ON FIRE, with some ad-libbed opening lines. COLD IRONS BOUND got people
moving and kept them up on their feet.
POSITIVELY FOURTH STREET was a searing growl, and halfway down the avenue,
Weir comes back out, welcomed by Dylan’s huge grin, and again takes
the helm.
“I do not feel that good, when I see the heartbreaks you embrace
/ If I was a master thief, perhaps I'd rob them”. I wonder if I am
dreaming. Weir was quoted as saying ‘Love and Theft’ was his
favorite recent recording, so I wasn’t surprised to see him hanging
in there for HONEST WITH ME and SUMMER DAYS. He was on target like I have
never seen him. When he was invited back for RAINY DAY WOMEN, I knew Dylan
must’ve had a great time jamming.
Dylan with the Dead was the highlight of the rock and roll portion of
the evening. He was in great spirits and smiling away under that white
cowboy hat. He nailed TANGLED UP IN BLUE, singing it in a more powerful,
almost shouting way, trying to match the intensity of the Dead’s
backing. You could tell Bob was impressed by Jehovah’s favorite choir
on a bluesy TRAIN TO CRY, and WEST LA FADEAWAY was nicely done, with some
good backing harmony by everyone. At this point Phil tells us to thank
Bob for playing, at which point he and Weir decide he’ll stay for
one more. They tear the hell right out of ALABAMA GETAWAY, after which
Bob makes his rounds and gives a shake or hug and a nicety to every member
of the Dead, he and Weir having had a really memorable musical conversation.
* * *
8/10/03 - Jones Beach
We spent
August 9th as we should, as a loving community, embracing not only
the songs Jerry played, but the ideas he held close, like sharing, laughter,
and beauty. As fans filed into the amphitheatre the next day, the familiar
chords
of UNCLE JOHN’S BAND rang out, and under a fading summer sky, the
Alembic Dead whittled the tune down to its very essence. Lambent and graceful,
MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON washed over us as softly as a fairy tale, as Phil
wondered aloud: “Clothed in tatters, always will be, Tom where did
you go?"
Walt Crowley said “I regret that I have but one life to give to my
habit”.
Phans, the Rolling Rider regrets that I have but one life to give to this
music.
Weir’s rendition of BLACKBIRD would’ve melted a heart of stone,
and seemed to cause the sun itself to set. Wings broken, eyes sunken,
we nevertheless took flight, and Bobby kept the reins for a rollicking
ME AND MY UNCLE, dusty dirt in his wake. Sometimes a tune is so achingly
beautiful that in Jerry’s profound absence, all the members of the
original quintessential quintet can do is call on the wind. MUST’VE
BEEN THE ROSES felt like a breeze inside our bodies, with Joan digging
deep to do justice to this sacred ode: “10 years the waves rolled
the ships home from the sea”.
Not willing to let us sit and compose lonesome blues, the band ripped
into DEAL, Jimmy’s pinpoint picking cutting through, crisp as the
autumn to come: “I’ve been gambling hereabouts, for 10 good
solid years”. Our dreams riding tall, we drifted into BROKEDOWN PALACE
with unspoken melancholy, the river singing us sweet and sleepy one more
time. DRUMS>SELF DEFENSE felt like it was coming four hours into a
three set show at Winterland, not the electric opener, with Mickey dancing
on the beam and Billy ratting our breastbones. MR.CHARLIE provided an
ancient segue into a locomotive-like SAINT STEPHEN, and the band filled
it up and lowered it down again into the WILLIAM TELL BRIDGE: “Underfoot
the ground is patched with climbing arms of ivy wrapped around the manzanita,
stark and shiny in the breeze”. Anyone who sat under the lee of the
manzanita on its smooth
trunk knows it offers uncommon tranquility.
A fervent JAM became THE ELEVEN, as the band sang en masse: “Ride
in the whale belly, fade away in moonlight, sink beneath the waters to
the coral sand below, Now is the time of returning”. Indeed, now
is the time. We were treated to a new song, ALL THAT WE ARE, then catapulted
back into the annals of our rich history with a dizzying SUGAR MAGNOLIA>
SUNSHINE DAYDREAM. Almost ready to head for the Long Island Expressway,
I was reminded that we still had another set of music left to hear!
A telic ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER pulsated from the stage, Phil seemingly
on a mission. UNBROKEN CHAIN trickled out, marking a flag on yet another
planet of our interstellar experience, and SPACE became one of the most
powerful versions of MORNING DEW I’ve ever heard. A salty tear rolled
down my face like wax, and I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. And
in the Give Credit Where Credit is Due Department, Joan reached into the
well to summon the necessary emotion to deliver such a vital, urgent statement.
THE OTHER ONE was like a trip-hammer, relentlessly driving like our collective
heartbeat, with Jimmy Herring still humbly blazing along. Phil coasted
into LADY WITH A FAN>TERRAPIN STATION, relishing in the performance
of one of his favorite Garcia numbers, backed by a symphony of crickets
and cicadas. Bobby ripped into the Sunday SAMSON AND DELILAH with the
Rhythm Devils literally rocking the altar like a clap of thunder, and
TURN ON YOUR LOVELIGHT had us out of our pews and dancing in the halls
of hallelujah. Terence McKenna said, “The secret cannot be told,
or I would have told it”. Let me just say that the Dead’s 2003
Summer Encore was UNITED STATES BLUES into TOUCH OF GREY. You do the math.
See you out West!
Statements
just seem vain at last,
Rolling Rider
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Rolling
Rider: Dead, Camden, Part 2
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