ZONE OUT with the ROLLING RIDER
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6/24/04 - The Dead at Irvine, CA ...
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As I dip the quill on this Fourth of July, I attempt to convey in ink what can truly only be expressed upon the malleable strings of a guitar, or by hand and wood on tight skins of drums. However, I'll defer to the one individual who has always provided the touchstones of our lives to provide an Independence Day musing:

In Franklin's tower there hangs a bell
It can ring turn night to day

"The allusion to the Liberty Bell…in the hometown of Ben Franklin…This song is a birthday wish both for my son and for my country, each young and subject to the winds of vicissitude. Individual and collective freedom, liberty, conscience, all that is conjured by those concepts, is suggested in the image of the tolling bell." -Robert Hunter

I for one am glad that during these times of vicissitude, or unexpected change, we have the Boys here at the heart of our community that has always held dear the ideas of consciousness and freedom.

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Set I
The JAM that became FEEL LIKE A STRANGER may very well been a reference to Phil's later remark on the LA scene that he's always 'surprised we have a market down here'. Be that as it may, the denizens atop that dry dusty Irvine hill were electric from the first notes. Phil crooned prophetically during the Hunter collaboration NO MORE DO I: "Where we're going, I can't tell you…"
After the gloriously apropos WEST LA FADEAWAY, complete with some deft slide work, BERTHA drove the crowd into a feral state. Warren decided to break out his beautiful tribute to Garcia, singing gracefully: "…a PATCHWORK QUILT of a life, memories embroidered on your soul."
ONLY THE STRANGE REMAIN is a wonderful vehicle for Mickey, and Hunter's lyric work is classic: "One foot on the gravel, one foot in the sky, too reckless to live and too careful to die." Keeping with the theme of the set, it was time for CRYPTICAL ENVELOPMENT, and every leaf was turning to watch him live on in this music.

Phil's blistering intro sounded THE OTHER ONE, and Bobby stepped to the mic with his trademark confidence, managing somehow to exude youthfulness behind a thick gray beard, remembering fondly: "There was Cowboy Neal at the wheel of the bus to never-ever land". Maybe we'd be going, too. AROUND and AROUND provided a hammering close to the set, leaving me begging for the casting searchlight of the second set.

Set II
Those wide open dusty spaces always seem the perfect milieu for Warren to break out something that looks like a star, a cover of Traffic's LOW SPARK. On its heels came HALF STEP, paired with the breakout of Warren's GLORY ROAD. The Boys seemed ready to kick in what Kesey called the 'faster-than-light drive'.
First things first -- we all came into communion with each other for UNCLE JOHN'S BAND. Humorously, when Professor Charles Reich asked Jer if he knew that in the audience's head they weren't the Dead but actually Uncle John's Band, Garcia replied deadpan, "Uh-huh. Sure." Their walls may be built of cannonballs, but somewhere within was born the crimson white and indigo of the Good Ol' Grateful Dead.

JAM into WHEEL had the engine of the Vista Cruiser beginning to chortle and hum, and the REUBEN & CERISE which preceded DRUMS sent the dancers spinning and crashing into the bandstand like phosphorescent waves peeling away at sunset. Out of SPACE we huddled on the point of a pin, hearing the jug band and seeing the ice blue roses unfold before our eyes.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: when Warren plays Brent Mydland, all is right with the world, and TONS OF STEEL was no different. I wish I had a dollar for each time we've both been down this grade. The highlight of the evening was undoubtedly an inspired rendition of MUSIC NEVER STOPPED. Teleported back through the last forty odd years, through fireworks, calliopes, and clowns the Boys truly sounded as if they hadn't missed a beat.

The music plays the band. Perhaps no other line sums up our thing so concisely. Phil alluded to the communal quality of the experience in his ORGAN DONOR RAP, and Jehovah's Favorite Choir left us with an LA favorite, CASEY JONES. Admittedly, this ultimate configuration of the Dead has grown on me more than I describe.

As Jerry so aptly put it, "I could draw you a picture of the Grateful Dead, man. It's got like six or seven weird legs, mismatched pairs, and one moth-eaten eagle wing and one bat wing, you know, and it snorts fire and it's cross-eyed…"

Without You, it could never Take Flight,
The Rolling Rider

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6.23.04 - The Dead in Chula Vista, CA

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