top of page
Search

This Week In Grateful Dead History #36 (Week of 9/8)

A picture of a skull and roses with the words "This Week in Grateful Dead History"

For the week of 9/8 – 9/14, Grateful Dead history was marked by several notable events and performances. Ron "Pigpen" McKernan's heavenly birthday was celebrated on September 8th, while Mickey Hart's birthday fell on September 11th. This week also saw the band's infamous journey to Egypt for shows at the Gizah Sound and Light Theatre in 1978. The year 1987 brought first performances of songs like Hey Pocky Way, Devil With The Blue Dress, and Good Golly Miss Molly, and a unique occurrence in 1991 with Branford Marsalis sitting in for a deeply nuanced performance at Madison Square Garden. Among other rarities, the only Grateful Dead performance of You Give Me Fever took place on September 13, 1987. Buckle up, is one of the longest writeups I’ve ever done! I’ve written a total of 30 listening guides this week to cover all of this and more:


09/08/1973 Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum, Uniondale, NY

09/08/1983 Red Rocks Amphitheater, Morrison, CO

09/08/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY

09/09/1972 Hollywood Palladium, Hollywood, CA

09/09/1974 Alexandra Palace, London, England

09/09/1987 Providence Civic Center, Providence, RI

09/10/1972 Hollywood Palladium, Hollywood, CA

09/10/1974 Alexandra Palace, London, England

09/10/1983 Santa Fe Downs, Santa Fe, NM

09/10/1985 Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center, Oakland, CA

09/10/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY

09/10/1993 Richfield Coliseum, Richfield, OH

09/11/1973 William and Mary College Hall, Williamsburg, VA

09/11/1974 Alexandra Palace, London, England

09/11/1981 Greek Theatre, University of California, Berkeley, CA

09/11/1982 West Palm Beach Auditorium, West Palm Beach, FL

09/11/1987 Capital Centre, Landover, MD

09/12/1981 Greek Theatre, University of California, Berkeley, CA

09/12/1985 Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center, Oakland, CA

09/12/1987 Capital Centre, Landover, MD

09/12/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY

09/12/1993 The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA

09/13/1981 Greek Theatre, University of California, Berkeley, CA

09/13/1987 Capital Centre, Landover, MD

09/13/1993 The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA

09/14/1974 Olympia Halle, Munich, Germany

09/14/1978 Gizah Sound and Light Theater, Cairo, Egypt

09/14/1990 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY

09/14/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY

09/14/1993 The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA


If you like these weekly listening guides, and you want to support me, please consider buying a copy of my book On This Day In Grateful Dead History: A Daily Listening Journal. They're $50 and I offer free shipping if you subscribe to my mailing list, where you'll get these writeups delivered. No spam, I promise!


As I write up each week's listening guides, I mark up my copy of the book like this:


A picture of the book On This Day in Grateful Dead History with underlined song highlights and highlighted Jam Anthem songs

The underlined songs are the ones I'm calling out as highlights in the listening guide, and the songs highlighted in yellow are the ones that Howard Weiner has identified as Jam Anthem renditions. I also write notes in the space provided if I'm feeling inspired or if there are any updates such as newly released material. Ultimately you can use it however you want, but this was my original intent with the book.


So grab your copy of the book if you have it to follow along. Ok, let's jump into it. Here's the highlights for Issue 8, for the week of February 24th, 2025:


Interesting historical facts for this week in Grateful Dead history:

  • The band heads to Egypt for the infamous shows at the Gizah Sound and Light Theatre

  • Happy heavenly birthday Ron "Pigpen" McKernan (9/8/1945)

  • Happy birthday Mickey Hart (9/11/1943)

  • First performance of Weather Report Suite Part One (09/08/1973), Hey Pocky Way (9/9/1987), Devil With The Blue Dress (9/9/1987), Good Golly Miss Molly (9/9/1987)

  • Only performance of Fever (09/13/1987)


By the way, if you're new here, this is my weekly listening guide that brings you the most interesting and significant facts from Grateful Dead History, along with reviews of the music for the week ahead. The idea is to give all you Heads a "Heads up" on the interesting and cool stuff the Grateful Dead were up to on this week in history. So hit the Subscribe button below to go to the top of my blog page where you can enter your email to get this delivered to your email every week!




September 8th

 

9/8/1973 Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum, Uniondale, NY – 2nd of a 2-show run. Officially released on Dave’s Picks Volume 38. 9/1/1973 was one of those nights where the music felt both grounded and expansive—tight in execution but full of emotional reach. The whole show had a kind of quiet power to it, and the second set especially stands out as one of the strongest of the year.

 

The first set opened with a lively run of tunes. Bertha had a bounce to it, and Me and My Uncle stretched out more than usual, with some unexpected turns in the jam that gave it extra weight. Sugaree and Tennessee Jed were both well played—nothing revolutionary, but solid and heartfelt. Looks Like Rain came and went without much impact, but Jack Straw was a burner, full of snap and drive. Midway through, the band debuted Weather Report Suite Part One, and while it felt a bit tentative, it flowed nicely into Let It Grow, which bloomed into a thoughtful jam. Then came Eyes of the World, and it was dazzling—fluid, melodic, and full of interplay. The transition into China Doll was seamless, and the tune landed softly, like a gentle exhale. They kept the momentum going with Greatest Story Ever Told and Ramble On Rose, and wrapped the set with a spirited Big River that felt like a final burst of sunlight.

 

The second set started with Let Me Sing Your Blues Away, and I’ll be honest—it didn’t quite gel. The band seemed unsure of the arrangement, and the energy dipped. But then came the turnaround: China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider. It started light and playful, then deepened into a jam that felt fully realized. Rider was joyful and tight, and the whole sequence felt like the band had found its stride. He's Gone > Truckin' followed, and He's Gone was a standout—slow, soulful, and stretched into a beautifully patient jam. Truckin' came in hot, with a fast, bluesy solo section that had real bite. They closed the set with a high-energy Not Fade Away > Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Bad > Not Fade Away sandwich, and it was the perfect way to wrap things up—tight transitions, strong vocals, and a sense of celebration. For the encore, Stella Blue was tender and aching, one of those versions that makes you stop and listen. Then One More Saturday Night came crashing in, loud and joyful, sending everyone home buzzing. This show might not be flawless, but it’s packed with moments that linger. The jams are thoughtful, the transitions are smooth, and the band sounds like they’re fully in sync. It’s one I return to often.

 

9/8/1983 Red Rocks Amphitheater, Morrison, CO – 3rd of a 3-show run. September 8, 1983, was abundant in dynamic transitions, cosmic jams, and emotive peaks, making this Red Rocks night stand out among the early-’80s Grateful Dead as one of their most inspired performances.

 

The first set opener Shakedown Street ignited the evening with funky, danceable energy and strong group synergy. An expressive rendition of Mama Tried seamlessly transitioned into Big River, carrying the momentum forward. Ramble On Rose and Hell in a Bucket provided storytelling depth and driving rhythm, while Brown-Eyed Women added a classic Americana touch. The emotionally rich Looks Like Rain led into a soaring Deal, offering both lyrical beauty and instrumental command.

 

The second set just opened up and let the magic pour through. Scarlet Begonias came charging out with a kind of boldness—Phil was locked in and driving hard, and the jam that followed was sleek and fearless, slicing upward like a jet trail through twilight. Garcia caught the wind and pushed the tempo, then slammed on the brakes with perfect timing. The band read him instantly, stopping on a dime before pivoting into the opening chords of Fire on the Mountain, which landed like thunder. The groove was deep and wide, giving Garcia room to stretch out and wail with abandon. Estimated Prophet didn’t quite hold up—there was a stumble in the middle jam, and the post-jam barely had time to breathe before it faded out. But Terrapin Station more than made up for it. It was played with real grace, glowing from the inside, and felt like a moment of collective tenderness. The Space that followed—final duet of the run—was pure atmosphere, ethereal and strange in the best way. There were strong hints of The Other One bubbling up, but instead they turned toward Throwing Stones, which came in hot and didn’t let go. The last forty-five minutes of the show, from Throwing Stones through Morning Dew, were electric. Garcia dug deep into Dew, and Weir’s vocals throughout were sharp and full of conviction. It was one of those stretches where everything clicked—raw, soulful, and unforgettable.

 

9/8/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY – 1st of a 9-show run. This show from 1991 might not crack the top tier of the year, but it still delivered a high-energy ride with solid pacing and a few standout moments that stuck with me. The second set in particular had a flow that kept me engaged, even if not every segment hit peak elevation.

 

The first set opened with an invigorating Touch of Grey, instantly connecting with fans old and new. That energy carried through spirited renditions of Greatest Story Ever Told, Loser, and New Minglewood Blues. The groove deepened with Candyman and a heartfelt Big River that tastefully segued into a rousing Maggie’s Farm, sparking the crowd’s enthusiasm. A soulful excursion through Row Jimmy led into a transformative Let It Grow, its expansive jams showing the band’s masterful control over tempo and texture. This set reflected seamless pacing and expressive improvisation.

 

The second set kicks things off with Samson and Delilah, which came in strong—tight, punchy, and full of swagger. Then came Eyes of the World, and that’s where things really opened up. Jerry was in flight mode, gliding over the changes with a kind of effortless grace. It wasn’t the deepest Eyes I’ve heard, but it had that bright, melodic lift that makes the tune feel like a window opening. Saint of Circumstance followed, and while the song itself was pretty standard, the jam that came after stretched out for about six minutes and had some interesting turns. Drums was heavy on the MIDI textures—Billy and Mickey jumped into the electronic zone almost immediately, which gave the segment a kind of space-age pulse. It wasn’t everyone's cup of tea, but I found it hypnotic in its own way. Later in the second set, Wharf Rat brought a welcome shift in mood—somber, searching, and beautifully played. Instead of the usual Sugar Magnolia closer, they went with Good Lovin', which felt like a refreshing curveball. It had a loose, celebratory vibe that worked well in the moment. For the encore, they chose Attics of My Life, and while it came off a bit ragged vocally, I still appreciated the sentiment. It was a vulnerable, human ending to a show that had its share of fire and finesse. Not a perfect night, but one with enough heart and motion to make it worth revisiting.



September 9th


9/9/1972 Hollywood Palladium, Hollywood, CA – 1st of a 2-show run. Officially released on Dave’s Picks Volume 46. September 9, 1972 at the Hollywood Palladium was one of those nights where the Dead seemed to be chasing something just beyond the edge of the map—and more often than not, they caught it. The transitions were fluid, the jams were exploratory, and the whole show had a sense of forward motion that never felt forced.

The first set opened strong with a punch Promised Land that set a lively tone. Sugaree followed, lush and groovy, with Phil’s bass underpinning its creamy flow. The pacing remained tight through Me and My Uncle and then lifted into the beautiful, cascading Bird Song. Black-Throated Wind and Tennessee Jed carried emotional weight, and Deal delivered heady textures. A nearly 20-minute Playing in the Band ignited the set, before Loser slowed the pace and Johnny B. Goode powered the first set to a rousing close. Playing in the Band was a clear highlight for me. It wasn’t just long—it was layered, unpredictable, and full of those moments where the band collectively dives into the unknown and somehow lands on their feet. The jam had a kind of centrifugal pull, spinning outward while still holding its center.

The set two opener of China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider stood out, especially the transition. It wasn’t the most adventurous version I’ve heard, but it was tight and confident, with a nice melodic lift that carried through the segue. The real fireworks came later with He's Gone > Truckin' > The Other One. He's Gone was played with patience and warmth, and the shift into Truckin' felt natural, like the band was just following the current. The jam out of Truckin' was a wild ride—Garcia took off on a wandering path that built steadily into a manic peak, then dropped into a reprise that felt like a victory lap. After a second Truckin' burst, Lesh stepped forward and launched the band into a blistering The Other One. That Other One jam was massive. Lesh sounded almost furious, punching through the mix with aggressive, angular lines. Garcia responded with a slow-building tension, layering in overtones that gradually opened into a deeper, more abstract space. He laid down a strong foundation before leading the band into the first verse. What followed was a strange, swirling haze—almost intrusive in its weirdness—that eventually gave way to a haunting Tiger jam. One by one, the band members peeled away, leaving Jerry alone in a five-minute acid-drenched solo that felt like a descent into some subterranean dreamscape. When the others returned, the jam picked up again, and they brought The Other One to a powerful close. It wasn’t just a good show—it was a journey. The band was clearly in a mood to explore, and they did so with both precision and abandon.

 

9/9/1974 Alexandra Palace, London, England – 1st of a 3-show run. Partially officially released on Dick’s Picks Volume 7. The Grateful Dead’s show at Alexandra Palace in London, 1974, felt like a warm-up in the best and worst ways—loose, exploratory, occasionally uneven, but with flashes of brilliance that hinted at what was to come on the rest of their short European run. The show started late, so they only played one long single set of music.

 

The set kicked off with a laid-back Bertha, not exactly tight but charming in its own way, followed by a solid Jack Straw. Scarlet Begonias was still in its early stages here—there was a brief jam, but it didn’t quite take flight. Mexicali Blues was serviceable, and Row Jimmy just didn’t land for me. Things finally started to click with Playing in the Band, which spiraled into a full-on meltdown jam. The band locked into a methodical groove, gradually slipping into deep space before returning to a gentle reprise. That jam felt like the first real moment of transcendence in the evening.

From there, Deal came and went without much fuss, and El Paso was about as average as it gets. But Ship of Fools was gorgeous—picture-perfect phrasing and emotional delivery. Tennessee Jed, on the other hand, felt sluggish and uninspired. The next part of the set really found its legs with Truckin' > Wharf Rat > Uncle John's Band. That sequence had teeth. The Truckin' jam flirted with Nobody’s Fault but Mine and even hinted at The Other One, building to a frenzied peak that felt earned. It was the kind of jam that made the earlier flat spots easy to forget about.

They wrapped the final portion of the show with a tired Johnny B. Goode—more of a gesture than a statement. But the energy came back for the encore with a raucous U.S. Blues and One More Saturday Night, sending off the London crowd with a proper bang. It wasn’t a perfect show, but it had enough inspired moments to make it worth revisiting—especially if you’re chasing that raw, transitional 1974 sound.

 

9/9/1987 Providence Civic Center, Providence, RI – 2nd of a 3-show run. September 9, 1987 at the Providence Civic Center was one of those nights where the first set had real spark—tight playing, fresh energy, and a couple of surprises that made it stand out. It kicked off with the debut of Hey Pocky Way, and while it was still finding its legs, it had a loose, funky charm that set the tone. Things really took off with Jack Straw—Garcia’s solo was long, deliberate, and full of authority. It felt like he was carving each phrase out of stone. That momentum carried straight into West L.A. Fadeaway, where Jerry leaned into the vocals with grit and followed up with another standout solo, full of sneaky bends and smoky phrasing. After that, the energy dipped a bit. Masterpiece, Friend of the Devil, and Cassidy were all fine, but none of them really grabbed me. Then came Althea, and Jerry was suddenly wide awake—his vocals were animated, almost snarling in spots, and the guitar lines between verses were sharp and soulful. That was another clear highlight. The set closed with a lively Greatest Story Ever Told, which unexpectedly morphed into two debut covers: Devil with the Blue Dress On and Good Golly Miss Molly. The band was clearly having a blast, and that joy came through loud and clear. It was a fun, raucous way to wrap up the first set.

 

The second set started off slow. China Cat Sunflower felt a little too measured, almost plodding, but I Know You Rider picked things up with more spirited vocals and a punchy solo that brought the crowd back in. Playing in the Band jumped out of Rider with urgency—it wasn’t a long version, but the jam had that classic feel: reflective and searching at first, then spiraling into a darker, more chaotic space. Out of that storm came China Doll, and Garcia’s fuzzed-out solo gave it a dreamy, slightly haunted feel. Drums was psychedelic and immersive, but after that, the show settled into more routine territory. The rest of the second set felt workmanlike—solid, but nothing that stuck with me. Still, the strength of the first set and the few inspired moments in the second made this show worth revisiting. It’s not a top-tier ’87 outing, but it’s got enough character to earn a spot in the rotation.



September 10th

 

9/10/1972 Hollywood Palladium, Hollywood, CA – 2nd of a 2-show run. September 10, 1972 at the Hollywood Palladium was a mixed bag for me—some moments soared, others felt like they were just going through the motions. The first set had a lively start with Bertha, which bounced along with good energy, followed by a wild and slightly chaotic Greatest Story Ever Told. Things settled into a deeper groove with Mississippi Half-Step, which featured some genuinely impressive jamming—Garcia seemed particularly dialed in during the instrumental breaks. Black-Throated Wind and Bird Song were both solid, if not revelatory. They carried that early-'72 introspective vibe, and while neither broke new ground, they were played with conviction. The real standout of the first set was Playing in the Band. That jam was a journey—fluid, multi-layered, and full of dynamic shifts. The band moved effortlessly from one theme to the next, building tension and releasing it in waves. It felt like they were chasing something just out of reach and occasionally catching it.

 

The second set didn’t quite maintain that momentum. He's Gone felt sluggish, and Truckin', while energetic, didn’t quite reach the kind of peak I usually hope for. The jam was hot, sure, but it never fully lifted off. Dark Star was oddly placed—it emerged from the tail end of the previous jam and felt clipped, like the band was trying to squeeze it in rather than letting it breathe. The Tiger jam segment that followed was average; it had some eerie textures but never really took flight. After the drum solo, the band returned with a brief Jack Straw that felt more like a transition than a statement. Sing Me Back Home was heartfelt, and Sugar Magnolia was tight and well-executed. The Sunshine Daydream jam had a rocky start—Garcia seemed to struggle with the rhythm at first—but eventually found its footing. The ending was wild, with a flurry of screams that gave it a raw, unhinged energy. They closed with a typically fiery One More Saturday Night, which brought the night to a satisfying, if predictable, close.

 

9/10/1974 Alexandra Palace, London, England – Partially officially released on Dick’s Picks Volume 7. The second night at Alexandra Palace in September ’74 felt like the band was channeling something deep and intuitive—one of those rare performances where emotion and improvisation were perfectly balanced. For me, it stands among the finest shows of the year, not because every moment was flawless, but because the peaks were so emotionally charged and the transitions so fluid. It was a night of deep feeling and fearless playing—one I return to often when I want to remember what made ’74 so special.

 

The first set opened with an upbeat Around And Around that got everyone dancing right away. That was followed up with nice readings of Half Step and Beat It On Down The Line. After that stretch of dancing songs, they slid into a gentle Peggy-O, setting a reflective tone. The band was clearly locked in nicely, and the first real emotional crest came with Black-Throated Wind—one of the most powerful versions I’ve ever heard. Weir’s delivery was raw and vulnerable, and the band wrapped around him with quiet intensity. Then came China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider, and the chemistry was undeniable. The jam between them included a perfectly timed Feelin’ Groovy Jam, and it felt like the band was reading each other’s minds. That intuitive spark carried through the rest of the set. The closing sequence of Weather Report Suite > Stella Blue was breathtaking. Weather Report Suite felt fully realized—elegant, dynamic, and emotionally resonant. It’s one of those versions that sneaks up on you and suddenly you’re blinking back tears. Stella Blue followed with another emotional peak, erupting beautifully on the bridge and leaving a hush in its wake.

 

After a spooky Seastones set, the second set kicked off with a spirited Me and My Uncle, and while the next stretch of songs was more standard fare, the solo Not Fade Away had a nice pulse to it. But the heart of the show—the moment everything crystallized—was the Dark Star > Morning Dew. That Dark Star jam was monstrous. It accelerated into a jazz-inflected mode, and for a stretch, it felt like Garcia had stepped back and let the rest of the band take the reins. What unfolded might be one of the finest Grateful Dead jams without Jerry leading—it was exploratory, textured, and deeply musical. The jam dissolved into silence, then briefly flirted with a pseudo-blues groove before easing into Morning Dew. Morning Dew was transcendent. Garcia’s phrasing was delicate and deliberate, and the emotional weight of the song landed perfectly. It felt like the spiritual resolution to everything that came before. They closed with Sugar Magnolia, which brought the energy back up, and the U.S. Blues encore sent the crowd off with a grin.

 

9/10/1983 Santa Fe Downs, Santa Fe, NM – 1st of a 2-show run. Santa Fe Downs ’83 has always stood out to me as one of those shows where the band just felt on—not in a flashy way, but in that locked-in, intuitive groove that makes even the rarities feel essential. The song choices were inspired, and the energy never dipped. It’s one of those nights that really knocks it out of the park.

 

The first set clicked from the jump. They opened with a fiery Music Never Stopped, and the momentum never let up. I was thrilled to hear They Love Each Other and Big Railroad, both of which felt like welcome surprises. The China > Rider to close the set was tight and joyful, with the transition jam bubbling with that classic early ’80s bounce. The only hiccup for me was Bobby’s slide solo in Minglewood—a little rough around the edges and not quite in sync with the rest of the band.

 

The second set kicked off with Man Smart, which got the crowd moving right away. Then came Cumberland, another rarity that added a fresh flavor to the mix. The Playing that followed was a strong modern-day version—focused, exploratory, and anchored by Brent’s textures. It melted beautifully into China Doll, which always feels like a gift when it shows up mid-second set. Brent and Bobby steered a healthy jam into Drums, which had some genuinely interesting rhythmic interplay. Space was thoughtful and patient, not just noise but a real journey inward. The wah-wah drenched Other One that emerged from Space was gritty and driving, and it felt like the band was channeling something primal. They wrapped the night with a heartfelt Cold Rain and Snow encore—sympathetic, grounded, and a perfect emotional landing after all that cosmic wandering.

 

9/10/1985 Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center, Oakland, CA – 1st of a 3-show run. September 10, 1985 at the Kaiser felt like one of those nights where the band was locked in from the start—tight, expressive, and full of fire. Garcia and Lesh were especially dialed in, and their interplay gave the whole show a kind of muscular grace. It wasn’t just a good show—it was a showcase of how powerful the Dead could be when everything aligned. The pacing, the song choices, the playing—it all worked.

 

The first set had a few real standouts. Stagger Lee was delivered with swagger—Garcia’s phrasing was sharp, and the groove had just the right amount of swing. Ramble On Rose hit even harder. Jerry’s vocals were gritty and soulful, and his guitar work drove the tune with a kind of joyful insistence. Then came Cassidy, and the jam at the end was pure combustion. It built slowly, then burst open into a frenzied peak that felt like the band was chasing something just out of reach—and catching it.

 

The second set opened with a crisp China Cat Sunflower, and the transition into I Know You Rider was seamless. Garcia’s delivery of the “headlight” verse sent chills down my spine—he was fully in the moment. Estimated Prophet came in fast and tight, and the jam took on a jazzy, elastic feel before melting perfectly into Eyes of the World. That Eyes was a rocket—Garcia kept the pace brisk, and the whole band followed him with precision and energy. For some reason Jerry left the stage for Brent’s Never Trust A Woman which led to Drums > Space. A passionate and heartfelt rendition of China Doll emerged from space. Bobby quickly teased Sugar Magnolia but Jerry took them into a pretty standard Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Bad. But after Around And Around they closed the set strong with a full Sugar Magnolia. Phil’s bass was front and center—thick, melodic, and driving the tune with real authority. An upbeat Day Job was the encore, a song they encored with 16 times that year.

 

9/10/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY – 2nd of a 9-show run. Officially released on 30 Trips Around the Sun. September 10, 1991, at Madison Square Garden was one of those nights where the Dead felt both relaxed and deeply engaged. With Branford Marsalis sitting in, the music took on a conversational tone—loose but attentive, exploratory without ever losing its footing. The restraint wasn’t a limitation; it was a choice, and it made the moments of intensity feel earned. It wasn’t a show built on fireworks—it was built on feel. And with Branford in the mix, the feel was rich, nuanced, and deeply satisfying.

 

The first set began with a tuning segment that gradually morphed into Shakedown Street, and while the jam didn’t stretch far, it had a funky, spunky vibe that set the mood. Then came a rare pairing: C. C. Rider into It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry. Branford’s solo on C. C. Rider was tasteful and bluesy, and Jerry’s vocal on the Dylan tune carried real weight—even if his guitar stayed mostly in the background. Black-Throated Wind and High Time followed, and while neither featured extended solos, Branford’s subtle textures added depth. The real spark came with Cassidy—Bruce Hornsby’s piano was aggressive and playful, and the jam, though brief, had tight interplay that made it pop. They closed the set with Deal, and Branford gave it a smooth R&B flavor. The coda jam was fresh, fun, and felt like the band was genuinely enjoying themselves.

 

The second set opened with the classic Help on the Way > Slipknot! > Franklin’s Tower sequence. Branford laid back early on, letting the band settle into a tight groove on Help and the start of Slipknot!, but the jam built steadily—Bobby and Phil pushed the energy forward until it nearly boiled over. Franklin’s Tower kept things light and bouncy, not groundbreaking but certainly enjoyable. Estimated Prophet followed, and its syncopated rhythm gave Branford room to stretch out—his lines fit naturally into the song’s structure. Then came Dark Star, and for me, that was the heart of the show. The first verse led into a quiet, spacious segment where Jerry’s playing turned delicate and inspired—some of his prettiest work of the night. After the second verse, the jam veered into chaos, but it was the kind of chaos born from deep listening. The band wasn’t just reacting—they were conversing, and Branford was right there with them. Standing on the Moon came next, and it was gorgeous. Jerry’s vocal was tender, and Branford’s fills wrapped around it like a warm breeze. They closed with Turn on Your Lovelight, and Branford leaned into his R&B roots, giving the tune a funky edge that felt like a nod to its early Pigpen-era swagger.

 

9/10/1993 Richfield Coliseum, Richfield, OH – 3rd of a 3-show run. September 10, 1993, at Richfield Coliseum felt like one of those nights where the band leaned into the classics and let the flow do the heavy lifting. The first set in particular had a kind of quiet brilliance to it—nothing flashy, but the song choices and transitions made it one of the more underrated openers from the post-Hornsby stretch.

 

They kicked off the first set with an upbeat Jack Straw, and right away I could feel the band settling into a confident groove. They Love Each Other had a relaxed, almost loping feel, with Garcia’s leads dancing gently around the beat. Little Red Rooster brought some grit, and Tom Thumb’s Blues gave Phil a chance to sing which is always a special treat. Ramble On Rose was warm and playful, and Black-Throated Wind gave Weir a chance to stretch out emotionally. But it was Bertha that sealed the set—tight, energetic, and capped with a chorus jam that felt like the band was smiling through their instruments. The movement between songs was seamless, and that cohesion gave the whole set a sense of purpose.

 

The second set opened with a well-jammed China Cat > I Know You Rider transition. It wasn’t just smooth—it had momentum, like the band was riding a wave they’d built themselves. Things dipped a bit with Way To Go Home and Corrina, but Uncle John’s Band brought the spark back. The outro jam was spacey and exploratory, setting the stage for a deep Drums and Space segment that felt more intense than usual. Coming out of that, the Wheel > Watchtower > Attics > Not Fade Away sequence gave the show a strong, emotionally resonant close. Attics was the standout—tender, deliberate, and beautifully sung. It felt like the band was reaching for something timeless. They wrapped it all up with U.S. Blues, a no-frills rock and roll finish that sent the crowd out buzzing.



September 11th


9/11/1973 William and Mary College Hall, Williamsburg, VA – 1st of a 2-show run. This show had a raw edge to it—gritty and muscular in a way that set it apart from the more polished, jazz-inflected feel of other ’73 performances. After a slow start to the first set the band caught a spark and never looked back.  Once in flight, the band leaned into some interesting musical contrasts, and the result was a night of deep exploration and emotional punch.

 

The first set opened with a perfunctory Promised Land, followed by standard readings of The Race Is On and Loser. Looks Like Rain is one of those songs that is either powerful and delicate or slow and seems to drag on. This one was the latter, and fell flat. Tennessee Jed and Jack Straw brought the energy levels back up but didn’t break any records. Things finally made a turn for the better, however, with China Cat Sunflower. Right away the energy felt different—more urgent, less ornamental. The jam took off quickly, and when they hit the Feelin’ Groovy Jam, it exploded with color and motion. I Know You Rider followed with a wailing intensity that felt earned, not just performed. Even El Paso, which can sometimes feel like a breather, came through with fire—Garcia’s solos stretched out and dug in. Then came Mississippi Half-Step, and the opening jam alone had more drive than some full versions I’ve heard. It was bursting with momentum. Playing in the Band was the centerpiece—dense, rapid-fire, and full of sharp turns. The jam didn’t meander; it surged forward with remarkable grace and tension. Easily one of the most exciting versions I’ve heard.

 

The second set kept that intensity alive. Weather Report Suite had a boldness to it, and the horn-like phrasing—whether from Garcia’s tone or the band’s collective dynamics—gave it a brassy, expansive feel. Let It Grow picked up right where Playing left off, and the segue back into the Prelude chords felt like a cinematic return, tying the whole arc together. Then came Dark Star, and it didn’t waste time with the usual intro—it dove straight into a focused, almost businesslike jam. The improvisation climbed steadily, each twist navigated with instinct and precision. When they finally reached the verse, it felt like a summit. After the vocals faded, Garcia launched into a solo that felt like it was trying to crack open the sky—sharp, emotional, and full of tension. Morning Dew emerged from that space like a sunrise after a storm. The closing jam built slowly, with Garcia layering in riffs that felt both fragile and defiant. It was one of those endings that leaves you staring into space, unsure whether to cheer or just sit in silence.

 

9/11/1974 Alexandra Palace, London, England – 3rd of a 3-show run. Partially officially released on Dick’s Picks Volume 7. The September 11, 1974 show at Alexandra Palace felt like the Dead at their most untethered—more pure improvisation than structure, and more emotional depth than polish. It’s one of those nights where the music seemed to spill out from some other dimension, and I’ve always found it transformative in the way it challenges expectations.

 

The first set kicked off with a long, exploratory Scarlet, not yet developed into the jam launching pad it would become, but already stretching its wings. The vibe was relaxed but articulate, and Row Jimmy stood out as a masterclass in ensemble playing—every part felt intentional, yet effortless. The set closed with Playing in the Band, and I honestly think it’s one of their finest. Lesh was detonating sonic booms beneath Garcia’s intergalactic leads, and the jam moved like a panoramic soundscape—graceful, gritty, and full of staccato interplay. It built into a fierce but “toothless” Tiger jam, more tension than terror, before snapping back into the reprise. Nearly two hours of music, and not a moment wasted.

 

The second set began with fifteen minutes of Phil and Ned’s Seastones, which felt like a transmission from deep space. When the rest of the band joined, it morphed into a Seastones/Dead jam—Weir’s feedback, Garcia’s aching leads, and Billy’s sparse pulse created a strange, beautiful tension. Garcia eventually picked up the pace, with Lagin’s computerized keys adding a sci-fi shimmer. After a drum-less drift, Lesh returned with mournful bass runs that hinted at Eyes, which teased its arrival several times before finally emerging from a careening, free-fall jam. The intro alone stretched ten minutes before Garcia sang the first verse, and the whole thing felt spacey, mellow, and determined. Lesh’s final lead was a bellowing exhale that sealed it. A powerful Stronger Than Dirt jam came next—long, sweaty, and driven hard by Lesh. Lagin’s “Seastones” textures didn’t quite land during this jam, but that misfire led to another eerie space that expanded with quiet intensity. The segue into Wharf Rat was inventive, and Garcia’s vocals were full of warmth and conviction. The closing jam soared, then gently settled as Garcia brought it home. For the final stretch of this mammoth show, Lesh stepped up to announce a few more tunes. The band was clearly running low on fuel, and while the songs were solid, the fatigue was starting to show. After Around and Around, the crowd tried to spark a Not Fade Away with rhythmic clapping, but the band didn’t bite. They took a breather with a soulful Ship Of Fools, followed by a return to some grooving with a mellow take on Goin’ Down The Road Feelin’ Bad. To wrap up the set, Sugar Magnolia had a wild drive to it—almost like the jam between China and Rider—but just as it was about to break open, Weir pulled the plug. But the band was saving their energy for one final hoorah, and they delivered a solid U.S. Blues encore to cap off this massive performance.

 

9/11/1981 Greek Theatre, University of California, Berkeley, CA – 1st of a 3-show run. September 11, 1981 was one of those nights where the energy felt dialed in from the start. This show had teeth, heart, and a sense of adventure. It’s one I revisit when I want to feel the Dead lean into the edge without losing the soul.

 

The first set had real bite—New Minglewood Blues came out swinging, loud and loose, with that barroom swagger that always gets the blood moving. Then They Love Each Other landed with surprising beauty—Garcia’s phrasing was tender, and the band gave it room to breathe. Cumberland Blues was flat-out rabid, tearing through the verses with a kind of joyful aggression, and Althea was a knockout—confident, sly, and full of that late-era Garcia cool. The whole set had a flow to it, like they were playing with purpose but not rushing a thing.

 

The second set opened with serious heat. Feel Like a Stranger was spacey and exploratory, stretching out in unexpected directions without losing its groove. Franklin’s Tower followed, crisp and radiant, with Garcia’s leads shimmering like sunlight through stained glass. Truckin’ rolled in with swagger, and the jam that followed before Drums was one of those moments where the band seemed to be inventing new terrain on the fly—loose, weird, and thrilling. Drums itself was thunderous, and what came next was the heart of the show: a gripping, beautifully built jam that surged into The Other One. It didn’t just arrive—it erupted, with intensity and precision that made the whole journey feel inevitable. They weren’t done. Morning Dew came in like a sermon—quiet at first, then rising with emotional weight. Garcia’s solo at the end felt like he was trying to say something words couldn’t touch. And then Johnny B. Goode closed things out with fire—hot, fast, and full of rock-and-roll joy.

 

9/11/1982 West Palm Beach Auditorium, West Palm Beach, FL – September 11, 1982 at West Palm Beach was one of those shows that felt effortlessly paced—nothing rushed, nothing forced, just a natural flow from start to finish. It was Mickey’s thirty-ninth birthday, and the band played with a kind of celebratory looseness that gave the whole night a warm, easy vibe.

 

The first set kicked off with a fiery Minglewood, full of grit and swagger. Midway through, they dropped Dupree’s Diamond Blues, which hadn’t been played in years. It came out swinging—Garcia sang it with real conviction, and the band leaned into the groove like they’d never stopped playing it. The set closed with a wild Let It Grow, and I mean wild—frantic, expansive, and packed with energy. It felt like the band was trying to squeeze every last drop of momentum out of the final jam.

 

The second set opened with a confident Scarlet Begonias, and the outro jam was unhurried and spacious, setting up a smooth transition into Fire on the Mountain. The pairing had that classic lift, and Garcia’s leads on Fire were lyrical and loose. Terrapin Station followed, played with patience and grace, and then came Drums, which was especially engaging—full of rhythmic interplay and texture. Space was short but eerie, drifting into a moody little pocket before giving way to Truckin’. The jam after Truckin’ didn’t stretch far, but it hit hard, and the shift into Stella Blue was seamless. That Stella was heavy—melancholic and beautifully played, with Garcia digging deep. They wrapped the set with Around and Around, which started off gently before exploding into a rowdy One More Saturday Night. For the encore, they chose It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue, and it was a perfect send-off—impassioned, tender, and full of feeling. Garcia’s delivery was raw and honest, and it left me with that quiet kind of buzz that lingers long after the music stops.

 

9/11/1987 Capital Centre, Landover, MD – 1st of a 3-show run. September 11, 1987 at the Capital Centre was one of those shows that didn’t necessarily break new ground, but still managed to deliver a satisfying ride. It felt like a solid snapshot of where the band was that year—tight in places, loose in others, with a few standout moments that stuck with me.

 

The first set opened with Bertha, and right out of the gate, Jerry’s guitar had that sparkle, his vocals warm and playful. The energy was contagious. Promised Land came next, and it was pure dance-floor fuel—short, punchy, and fun. Candyman slowed things down just enough to let Jerry stretch out a bit, and he poured emotion into every note. One of the real highlights for me was New Minglewood Blues. Bobby was in full swagger mode, and the interplay between Jerry’s leads, Brent’s Hammond B3 swells, and Bobby’s slide work gave it a gritty, electric edge. Push Comes to Shove was breezy and well played, and Tons of Steel gave Brent a chance to shine—his vocals were raw and soulful, and Jerry’s solo added a nice lift. Desolation Row was expansive, with Jerry weaving in atmospheric fills behind Bobby’s vocals. The reverb-heavy tone gave the song a sense of space and drama. They closed the set with Deal, and while it wasn’t the longest version I’ve heard, Jerry’s solo was hot and focused—short but potent.

 

The second set started with a sweet one-two punch: Sugar Magnolia into Sugaree. That Sugaree was a highlight—Jerry’s first solo was gentle and lyrical, and by the second, he was really leaning in, pushing the dynamics and lifting the energy. Estimated Prophet followed, and it had a jazzy, off-kilter feel that worked well. Bobby was animated, and the groove had a nice bounce. The transition into Eyes of the World was mostly driven by the drummers, and Phil locked into a buoyant rhythm that gave the tune a fresh pulse. Drums had some quirky textures—those early video-game-like sounds added a playful twist—and Space was melodic and exploratory, with Jerry leading the way into Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad. That tune built steadily, and the segue into Dear Mr. Fantasy was seamless. Brent’s vocals were gut-wrenching in the best way, and Jerry matched that intensity—definitely one of the emotional peaks of the night. All Along the Watchtower came next, and Bobby’s vocals had that Dylan-esque bite but done in his own style. Jerry’s solo was packed with notes, urgent and fiery. Then came the downshift into Wharf Rat, and it was gorgeous. Jerry’s solo after “I’ll get up and fly away” felt like a prayer—soaring and reverent. They wrapped the set with Sunshine Daydream, bouncing and jubilant, a full-circle moment that brought the energy back up. For the encore, they went with Touch of Grey, and the crowd lit up. It was a sure thing—anthemic, uplifting, and a perfect way to send us home. Not a show that rewrites history, but one that reminds you why you keep coming back.



September 12th

 

9/12/1981 Greek Theatre, University of California, Berkeley, CA – 2nd of a 3-show run. This show was a full-spectrum burner—one of those nights where the band locked into something deeper than just playing songs. The music felt alive, like it was building itself in real time. Both sets had their own distinct character: the first set leaned into groove and melody, while the second set veered into the wild and the unknown.

 

The first set opened with Shakedown Street, and right away the funk was thick—smooth, vibrant, and full of swagger. It wasn’t just danceable; it was hypnotic. Greatest Story Ever Told kept that energy rolling, sharp and punchy. Then came Friend of the Devil, slowed way down into a dreamy, stretched-out jam that gave the tune a whole new feel. El Paso was a surprise standout—Jerry’s phrasing was inventive and fluid, elevating it well beyond its usual slot. Bird Song was pure magic. The main jam had a strong jazz pulse, and Garcia was in full flight, spiraling through rhythmic layers while the rest of the band pushed and pulled around him. Cassidy was already cooking, but the second jam took it somewhere else entirely—Jerry dug deep, exploring themes with intensity and nuance. Then came China Cat Sunflower > I Know You Rider, and the transition jam was just outrageous. It had that 1974-style drive and length, bursting with energy. Rider itself was a celebration, with multiple jam peaks that closed the set on a high.

 

The second set felt like the band threw out the map and decided to explore. Scarlet Begonias > Fire on the Mountain was the centerpiece, and it was unlike any other version I’ve heard. The Scarlet jam was exotic and sprawling, a tangled web of ideas tossed out with grace and abandon. The transition didn’t build gradually—it veered into a psychedelic detour, edgy and unpredictable, before Fire suddenly emerged with urgency. The textures from the transition carried over, and the final jam in Fire hit emotional peaks that felt earned. It was one of the most unusual and inspired Scarlet > Fire pairings I’ve ever heard. C. C. Rider came in hot but felt a little out of place after all that exploration. Estimated Prophet was a mixed bag—some sloppy moments, but the closing jam was powerful and strange, almost like something off Blues for Allah. That vibe carried into Eyes of the World, which ended with Jerry launching into a dissonant, ecstatic run that cracked open a wild Space. The rest of the band colored around him, creating a swirling soundscape. After a short Drums, they dropped into Not Fade Away, and Jerry’s soloing was bold and brash. That jam dissolved into chaos—an expansive, discordant vortex that eventually resolved into a heartfelt Wharf Rat. The final stretch of Around and Around > One More Saturday Night was tight and confident, bringing the energy back up. Then came the double encore. Baby Blue was tender and passionate, Garcia’s vocals aching with sincerity. And Good Lovin’ was pure joy—upbeat, loose, and the perfect capstone to a show that had it all.

 

9/12/1985 Henry J. Kaiser Convention Center, Oakland, CA – 3rd of a 3-show run. September 12, 1985 felt like one of those nights where the band showed up sharp and ready to dig in. The first set had a crispness to it—tight playing, good pacing, and a few moments that really stood out. They gave Brother Esau a full-throttle effort, but it just didn’t land for me. The energy was there, but the song felt like it never quite found its footing. It’s no surprise they eventually let it go.

 

The second set came out swinging with Help on the Way > Slipknot! > Franklin’s Tower, and that trio set the tone for what was to come. Slipknot! had some real teeth—focused and exploratory without getting lost—and Franklin’s was pure Garcia joy. His solos were fluid and uplifting, and the whole band locked into a celebratory groove. Then came Playing in the Band, and this version was something else. It veered into strange territory, with the jam morphing into a slow, deliberate rhythm that gradually picked up steam. Garcia started double-timing, and suddenly it turned into this funky little jig—unexpected and totally engaging. That mood spilled into Drums, which felt more like a continuation than a reset, and Space followed with a kind of drifting, searching quality. The Other One began to take shape, but instead of the usual build, they dropped the verses in the middle of a drum-less segment. It was jarring—short, sparse, and emotionally distant. Easily one of the most alienated versions I’ve heard. But then Black Peter arrived, and everything softened. Garcia’s delivery was tender and raw, and the band leaned into the melancholy with grace. Throwing Stones came next, and Weir gave it a solid reading, but it felt more like a bridge than a destination. They closed the set with Not Fade Away, and Garcia was on fire—his vocals and solos had real bite. The encore brought it back around with a reprise of Not Fade Away, which felt like a victory lap. It wasn’t a perfect show, but it had teeth, heart, and a few moments of genuine weirdness that made it stand out.

 

9/12/1987 Capital Centre, Landover, MD – 2nd of a 3-show run. September 12, 1987 at the Capital Centre was one of those nights where the setlist kept shifting gears in just the right way. The show didn’t lean too heavily in any one direction—it was diverse, well-paced, and full of moments that caught me off guard in the best way.

 

The first set opened with Hell in a Bucket, and while it didn’t explode out of the gate, it had a solid groove. Loser came next, and Garcia’s solo had that slow-burn intensity I always hope for. Me and My Uncle was tight and playful, and then Big River hit—a clear highlight. The band locked into a driving rhythm, and Jerry’s leads were crisp and twangy, pushing the energy up a notch. Ramble On Rose kept the mood light, and then came Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues, which felt unusually poignant. Garcia’s phrasing was delicate, and the band gave it space to breathe. Hey Pocky Way followed, and Brent absolutely lit it up—his vocals were gritty and soulful, and the groove was deep. Then came Cassidy, and the jam section really took flight. It wasn’t just tight—it was inspired, with Garcia weaving through rhythmic shifts like he was chasing something just out of reach. They closed the set with Might As Well, which felt like a celebratory exhale.

 

The second set kicked off with a lively Cumberland Blues, and the band sounded locked in—tight harmonies, punchy solos, and a joyful bounce. Samson and Delilah followed, full of thunder and swagger. Things took a turn with Ship of Fools, and Garcia’s vocals were tender, almost fragile. It was a quiet moment that landed. Man Smart, Woman Smarter brought the energy back up, though it felt more like a detour than a destination. Then came Drums, which quickly gave way to Space, and out of that emerged a brief but evocative Spanish Jam—just a few minutes, but enough to conjure something smoky and mysterious. Truckin’ rolled in confidently, and the transition into I Need a Miracle was seamless. Morning Dew followed, and it was the emotional peak of the night. Garcia’s solo built slowly, and by the time he hit the final crescendo, the whole room felt suspended. They closed the set with Turn On Your Lovelight, which was loose and joyful, a full-band celebration. For the encore, they gave us One More Saturday Night, which hit all the right notes, and then Black Muddy River, which felt like a benediction. Garcia’s delivery was heartfelt, and it left me with that quiet, reflective buzz that only comes from a show that knew how to balance fire and grace.

 

9/12/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY – 3rd of a 9-show run. This show had a real sense of movement to it—like the band was intent on covering a wide emotional and musical range without ever losing momentum. It wasn’t just a well-played show—it was a journey, and listening to this one gave me a big dose of nostalgia, and I was glad to be along for the ride.

 

The first set came out swinging with Hell in a Bucket and Bertha, both delivered with punch and swagger. The energy was high, and the crowd was locked in early. Walkin’ Blues kept things gritty, and then Ramble on Rose arrived with warmth and charm—Garcia’s vocals were playful, and the band gave it a nice bounce. The pairing of Beat It on Down the Line into Big Railroad Blues was a blast—tight, fast, and full of that barroom stomp. Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues added a touch of melancholy, and Garcia’s phrasing gave it a weary elegance. They closed the set with Let It Grow, and it was a standout. The jam built steadily, with Garcia exploring melodic corners and the rhythm section driving hard underneath. It felt expansive without losing focus.

 

The second set kicked off with Sugar Magnolia, and it had that boogie-woogie strut that instantly lifted the room. The segue into Foolish Heart was smooth, and the tune itself felt confident—Garcia’s solos were lyrical and bright. Playing in the Band came next, and it started off bouncy before slipping into more abstract territory. The jam got spacey and experimental, eventually dissolving into Terrapin Station, which was played with real patience. The post-Terrapin jam circled back briefly to Playing, then unraveled again into Drums. That segment was loud and varied, full of shifting textures, and Space took it even further—eerie, exploratory, and beautifully strange. Out of that came The Wheel, and it felt like a sunrise—gentle, rolling, and full of hope. Then came Black Peter, and the mood dropped into something mournful and reflective. Garcia’s delivery was raw, and the band gave him room to breathe. They brought the energy back up with Around and Around, which was piano-heavy and full of bounce, and then dove straight into Sunshine Daydream, closing the set with a joyful burst. For the encore, they chose Box of Rain, and it landed perfectly. Phil’s vocals were heartfelt, and the song felt like a quiet affirmation after a night of big swings.

 

9/12/1993 The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA – 1st of a 3-show run. September 12, 1993 was one of those nights where everything just clicked. The band felt locked in from the first note, and the whole show had this sense of shared momentum—like they were chasing something together and actually catching it.

 

The first set opened with Touch of Grey, and it was played with real spirit. Garcia’s solo wasn’t long, but it sparkled—brief and bright, like a flash of sunlight. Loser followed, and it was a classic take. Garcia’s soloing was winding and expressive, full of those twisted melodic lines that seem to fold in on themselves before resolving. Eternity brought a spaced-out jazz vibe, drifting through rhythmic shifts and harmonic ambiguity. It didn’t land for everyone, but I found it fascinating. Loose Lucy strutted in with swagger, playful and funky, and then Picasso Moon came roaring in—loud, dense, and exhausting in the best way. They closed the set with a well-balanced arc, and the whole thing felt cohesive and alive.

 

The second set came out hot with Samson and Delilah, stomping and relentless. Then came Lazy River Road, and it was a breath of fresh air—gentle, lyrical, and full of subtle beauty. The wordplay danced, and the harmonies were smooth. Truckin’ kicked off the next stretch, and it felt like the ignition point for a long creative run. He’s Gone was a standout—Garcia’s playing was spare and crystalline, each note placed with care. It was one of those moments where less really was more. Drums took its time, unfolding slowly before melting into Space, which was downright alien. The textures were strange and slippery—bell tones, ghost rhythms, and vast sonic voids. Out of that emerged The Other One, and the build was gorgeous. It started with quiet piano and guitar ruminations, then burst into full bloom with explosive energy. Stella Blue followed, and it was graceful and aching. Garcia’s guitar tone shimmered, and the whole band leaned into the emotional weight of the song. Throwing Stones worked beautifully as a closer—Garcia was on fire, stacking chorus after chorus with joyful abandon. They wrapped the set with Turn On Your Lovelight, and it had a tasteful jam that didn’t overstay its welcome, just enough to send us off with a grin. For the encore, they chose Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, and it felt like a final exhale. Garcia sounded near spent, but that only added to the emotional pull. It was a quiet, moving end to a show that had everything—fire, grace, and a whole lot of heart.



September 13th

 

9/13/1981 Greek Theatre, University of California, Berkeley, CA – 3rd of a 3-show run. September 13, 1981 felt like the kind of show where the band just didn’t want to stop playing. Nearly every song flowed into the next, and the whole night had this seamless, continuous energy that made it feel more like a journey than a concert. It was the final night of a three-show run, and they closed it out with something close to perfection.

 

The first set was high-octane from the start. The band was tight, the transitions were smooth, and the energy never dipped. To Lay Me Down was a standout—haunting and beautiful, with Garcia’s vocals floating over a delicate arrangement. It felt intimate, almost fragile, and the crowd leaned in for every note. Let It Grow was another peak moment. The jam was strong and expansive, with Garcia pushing into some fiery territory while the rhythm section kept things grounded.

 

The second set started with a lot of enthusiasm as they worked through Cold Rain And Snow > Samson. The set stretched longer than usual for that era, and it was packed—seven songs before Drums, and aside from a brief pause between Samson and Delilah and It Must Have Been the Roses, it was one long, uninterrupted flow. The transitions were tight, and the band seemed locked into a collective groove. A confident reading of Lost Sailor > Saint Of Circumstance slid directly into Terrapin Station, which was especially satisfying. The song was played with patience and clarity, and the jam out of it felt like it had real direction. Brent stepped up with Never Trust a Woman, and it was one of the highlights of the show. His vocals were gritty and full of fire, and the bluesy feel was raw, intense, and totally committed. Out of Space emerged a graceful and powerful rendition of The Wheel. The rest of the set consistently built with intensity as they worked through Miracle > Going Down The Road Feeling Bad > Sugar Magnolia. They capped the night with a surprise double encore of Satisfaction > Brokedown Palace. It was the kind of moment that made you grateful they didn’t just walk off after one encore. The whole show had that kind of generosity—long, flowing, and full of heart.

 

9/13/1987 Capital Centre, Landover, MD – 3rd of a 3-show run. September 13, 1987 at the Capital Centre was one of those shows that kept surprising me. It wasn’t just the song choices—it was the way the band leaned into the unexpected, with a few rare moments that made the whole night feel special.

 

The first set opened with a short but lively Iko Iko, setting a playful tone right out of the gate. Little Red Rooster followed, sleek and bluesy, and then Brown-Eyed Women bounced along with that familiar warmth. But the real curveball came next: the only Grateful Dead performance of You Give Me Fever. It was confident and sultry, with a bluesy swagger that felt totally natural despite its rarity. They kept the energy up with tight, rocking versions of Stagger Lee and When I Paint My Masterpiece, both delivered with precision and punch. Bird Song was a standout—Garcia and Lesh traded lines with real sensitivity, and the jam had a gentle, searching quality. They wrapped the set with Promised Land, fast and fiery, sending the crowd into set break buzzing.

 

The second set kicked off with a dynamic Scarlet Begonias > Fire on the Mountain transition. The jam built slowly, with Garcia spiraling upward until the whole band locked in and surged into the Fire intro—it was one of those moments where the transition felt like a wave cresting. After a short pause, Playing in the Band drifted in quietly, more mood than structure, and eventually dissolved into Drums. From there, Space took a darker turn, and The Other One began to emerge—slow, ominous, and full of tension. When the vocals finally hit, it felt like a release. Stella Blue and Throwing Stones didn’t break new ground, but they were well played and emotionally steady. Then came one of the most fun moments of the night: Good Lovin' > La Bamba > Good Lovin'. The band was clearly having a blast, and the crowd fed off it. Brent’s vocals were full of fire, and the transition into La Bamba was seamless and joyful before they looped back into Good Lovin' to close the set with a grin. For the encore, they chose Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door, and it was reverent and airy—Garcia’s voice floated, and the band gave the song plenty of space to breathe. It was the kind of ending that left me feeling both satisfied and reflective. Not every moment was perfect, but the highlights were unforgettable.

 

9/13/1993 The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA – 2nd of a 3-show run. September 13, 1993 at The Spectrum wasn’t a show I’d call legendary, but it had its moments—especially in the second set, which really came alive after a fairly routine first set.

 

The first set was solid, if unsurprising. The band moved through familiar territory with confidence, and while nothing jumped out as transcendent, the closer—Let It Grow—was a standout. It had that extra push, with Garcia digging in and the band responding in kind. It felt like they were finally stretching out a bit after keeping things tight for most of the set.

The second set was where things got interesting. Scarlet Begonias had a buoyant energy, and though the jam was brief, it set up a fiery Fire on the Mountain that really took off. Garcia’s leads were sharp and fluid, and the band locked into a groove that felt effortless. Then came Playing in the Band, which veered deep into the ether—WAYYY spacey, with textures that felt more like ambient soundscapes than structured jam. That drifted into Dark Star, and while it was short, the jam before the verse was tender and exploratory. It didn’t need to be long to be meaningful. From there, the transition into Terrapin Station was smooth, and flowed into a strong closing jam that gave the song real weight. Space was notable for its tubular bells motif—an eerie, shimmering pulse that added a unique flavor to the segment. Easy Answers came next, and while it’s not always a favorite of mine, this version was tight and well-executed. Then came Days Between, which felt emotionally raw and turbulent—one of the more compelling versions I’ve heard from that era. They wrapped the second set with Good Lovin', which was energetic enough, but the I Fought the Law encore felt phoned in. It was one of those endings that didn’t quite match the depth of what came before.



September 14th

 

9/14/1974 Olympia Halle, Munich, Germany – Munich ’74 was a mixed bag for me—some stretches felt like the band was just going through the motions, especially Garcia, but this is 1974, after all, and there were flashes of brilliance that made the show worth revisiting.

 

The first set had a few solid moments, though it didn’t fully take flight. They opened with Bertha, Me and My Uncle, Deal, and Jack Straw—all played cleanly, but nothing really pushed the envelope. The first real spark came during Scarlet Begonias. Garcia’s initial solo was a standout: he sculpted rhythm and texture in a way that echoed through the hall, almost mimicking the acoustics of a grand concert space. It was one of those moments where his phrasing felt architectural. Unfortunately, Let It Grow didn’t hold up—Garcia seemed adrift, and the jam lacked direction. Seastones, Phil and Ned’s experimental piece, followed, and while it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, I appreciated its sense of experimentation and exploration in the context of the set.

 

The second set started to build momentum. Mississippi Half-Step had a lovely back-and-forth between Garcia and Keith, and the “Across the Rio Gran-dee-oh” section was nearly a cappella—delicate and intimate. The jam that followed, linking Truckin’ to Wharf Rat, included a Mind Left Body Jam that started fast and unraveled slowly, with a strange, shifting energy that I found oddly compelling. Then came Sugar Magnolia, and that’s where things really clicked. Garcia snapped out of whatever haze he’d been in and lit the place up. It smoked—no other way to put it—taking the intensity of the performance up several notches. The rest of the set was unusually generous. They came back with a tight, sparkly Eyes of the World, full of bounce and clarity, which segued seamlessly into a raucous One More Saturday Night. Then, just when I thought they were done, they dropped a spirited U.S. Blues encore that felt like a satisfying way to end the show.

 

9/14/1978 Gizah Sound and Light Theater, Cairo, Egypt – 1st of a 3-show run. Gizah ’78 has always been a fascinating show for me—not necessarily because of the music from start to finish, but because of the setting, the vibe, and a handful of moments that really broke through. I can’t imagine how incredible it must have been to witness these shows in person! It’s often labeled the weakest night of the Egypt run, but I think that undersells the magic that did surface.

 

The first set kicked off with Ollin Arageed, and while it took a minute to settle, once Garcia started weaving his solo through the Egyptian vocals and chanting, something clicked. The interplay between guitar and voice felt genuinely collaborative, and by the end, the whole band was locked in. The segue into Not Fade Away was smooth, and the tune itself had a loose, swinging feel—easygoing but lyrical, with Garcia leaning into a gentle melodic touch. Me and My Uncle came next, and it had this hypnotic, metronomic pulse that I found oddly captivating. They Love Each Other was sweet and relaxed, and New Minglewood Blues came off tight and punchy. Peggy-O was a beauty—Garcia’s lead lines floated over a rhythm section that stayed crisp and supportive. Then came Beat It on Down the Line, which unexpectedly dipped into a kind of hypno-groove, stretching the usual bounce into something more trance-like. They closed the set with Deal, and it was a burner—rollicking, joyful, and full of swagger.

 

The second set opened with Sugaree, and this one really landed. Garcia’s solo was expansive and expressive, Donna’s harmonies added warmth, and the jam built into a swirling avalanche before settling into a haunting final verse. After a short breather, Samson and Delilah came roaring in—tight, energetic, and well played. Scarlet Begonias followed, and while it wasn’t flashy, it had a steady, undulating groove that felt grounded and patient. The transition into Fire on the Mountain was seamless, and this version was the overall highlight of the show. The jam unfolded like a slow-motion sculpture—layers stripped away and rebuilt, horizontally and vertically, with Garcia guiding the architecture. Truckin’ came next, and the breakdown jam was spectacular—tense, soaring, and full of motion. The segue into The Other One was fluid, and once they landed, Phil’s bass took center stage—deep, symphonic tones and that signature riff anchoring the chaos. Drums followed, minimalist and strange, and then Space, which turned melodic and ethereal, almost dreamlike. Black Peter emerged slowly, and this version felt especially strong—leisurely in its pacing, with a lovely three-part jam that gave it real emotional weight. They closed with Around and Around, and it surprised me. The jam smoked and cooked with a loose feel, then tightened up and double-timed into a frenzy before easing into a soft final verse and crescendo.

 

9/14/1990 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY – 1st of a 6-show run. This show had a pulse from the opening notes to the final encore—energetic, well-paced, and full of moments that kept me leaning in. It wasn’t just a good show—it was a show that knew how to build, peak, and land.

 

The first set started with Feel Like a Stranger into Sugaree, and while it felt more like a warm-up than a statement, it set the tone nicely. Minglewood Blues came in hot—tight, rowdy, and full of swagger. Black-Throated Wind was still fresh in the rotation, and the crowd responded with real enthusiasm. It was played with confidence, and Weir’s delivery had bite. The rest of the set didn’t necessarily break new ground, but it held together well and kept the energy up.

 

The second set was where things really took off. Scarlet Begonias was strong—Garcia’s phrasing was relaxed but purposeful, and the groove had a steady pulse. The transition jam into Fire on the Mountain was fluid, and once they landed, the fireworks started. The first jam in Fire was electric—nimble, soaring, and fast, with Garcia slicing through the rhythm like a laser. The second jam was even more intense—raging and adrenaline-charged, the kind of peak that makes the whole room feel like it’s vibrating. The third jam didn’t quite hit the same height, but it was still solid, just a little more restrained. Truckin’ followed, and it had that gritty, blue-note breakdown that gave it some edge. Then came a smooth, glowing transition into Terrapin Station, and it was played with real grace—each note felt deliberate, and the whole thing shimmered. After Drums, the band drifted into Space, which eventually gave way to The Other One. The pre-vocal jam was blistering—tight, aggressive, and full of tension. They dipped back into Space afterward, but it didn’t quite carry the same weight. Wharf Rat came next, and it was one of the stronger versions I’ve heard from the '90s—Garcia’s guitar work was inventive and emotionally rich. They closed the set with Sugar Magnolia, and it was a perfect closer—joyful, punchy, and full of bounce.

 

9/14/1991 Madison Square Garden, New York, NY – 6th of a 9-show run. September 14, 1991, at Madison Square Garden wasn’t just another Saturday night—it was one of those shows that sneaks up on you and ends up being a standout in the run. The setlist might not scream “classic” on paper, but the execution was sharp, the energy was high, and the interplay—especially between Jerry and Bruce—was dialed in from the start.

 

The first set kicked off with Let the Good Times Roll, which felt like a warm welcome before sliding into a surprisingly tight Jack Straw. Bruce’s contributions were tasteful and supportive, never stepping on Jerry’s lines but adding color in all the right places. Friend of the Devil had more weight than usual, and Rooster really popped—one of those versions that makes you sit up and take notice. Jack-a-Roe and Desolation Row were unexpected treats, both delivered with care and nuance. The set closed with a thunderous Promised Land, full of drive and swagger.

 

The second set was where things really opened up. China Cat Sunflower into I Know You Rider was smooth and confident, with some nice peaks along the way. Ship of Fools was a showstopper—Jerry leaned into the bittersweetness and gave it real emotional heft. Then came a fiery Truckin’, which spilled into a loose, exploratory jam before settling into Spoonful. He’s Gone felt like a statement piece—no signs of wear, just pure soul. The Mind Left Body Jam was a highlight, especially with those subtle Saint Stephen teases woven in. All Along the Watchtower came in hot, and the transition into China Doll was seamless. Jerry’s vocals were haunting, and the band gave him space to let the song breathe. They wrapped the set with One More Saturday Night, and even though it’s a familiar closer, this one had real punch—played with conviction and joy. For the encore, The Weight was a perfect choice. It was heartfelt, communal, and left the room glowing.

 

9/14/1993 The Spectrum, Philadelphia, PA – 3rd of a 3-show run. September 14, 1993, at The Spectrum was one of those nights where the band felt locked in from the jump. The show had a mix of inventive playing and emotional depth that really stuck with me, especially in the second set, but the first set had its own kind of magic too.

 

They opened the first set with Help on the Way > Slipknot! > Franklin's Tower, and it was clear from the first notes that they were dialed in. The transitions were seamless, the energy was high, and the whole sequence felt inventive and confident—like they were ready to take off. Minglewood Blues came in hot, full of swagger and strutting guitar lines, with Bruce’s piano punching through in all the right places. Broken Arrow was a beautiful breather—Phil’s vocals were tender, and the synth textures added a dreamy layer that gave the tune real emotional weight. Bird Song didn’t quite soar the way I hoped, but it still had moments that made it worthwhile.

 

The second set was where things really lifted off. Iko Iko was pure joy—Garcia’s guitar was playful and inventive, shifting tones and melodies with ease. Looks Like Rain gave Weir a spotlight, and he delivered a deeply emotional vocal, while Jerry kept things grounded with sparse, tasteful fills. Way to Go Home surprised me—it’s not always a standout, but this version had a real sense of purpose, and Garcia’s bubbling lines gave it momentum. Crazy Fingers started off a little shaky vocally, but the harmonies from Bob and Vince helped it find its footing. The transition into Corinna was inspired—tight rhythms, forward motion, and a sense of flow that made it one of the best versions I’ve heard. Drums was sharp and responsive, with the drummers locked into each other’s cues before diving into some eerie electronic textures—electro-marimbas and pipe organ tones that gave it a haunting, otherworldly feel. Space followed naturally, a swirling, introspective journey that veered between quiet reflection and chaotic bursts. They landed in The Last Time, which built steadily to a satisfying peak. Wharf Rat was strong and dynamic, full of soul and grit, and Sugar Magnolia closed things out with real fire—Phil’s bass was driving hard, and the whole band seemed to be pushing for one last burst of celebration.



BTW, If you're not yet familiar with Jam Anthem versions of songs you can read all about it in Deadology II by Howard Weiner. Check it out here along with all his other great books.


And that's all for now! Of course, if you want to follow along in your very own copy of my book On This Day In Grateful Dead History: A Daily Listening Journal I still have some copies available here. Once they're sold out, I won't be getting any more made. The costs of printing and shipping has almost doubled in the last few years since I had them printed, and I've decided it's just not worth it. So get one now while you can! https://www.gratefuldeadbook.com/tigdh


A picture of the book On This Day in Grateful Dead History

A picture of the inside of the book On This Day in Grateful Dead history opened to the chronological show list section

A picture of the inside of the book On This Day in Grateful Dead history opened to the monthly summary calendar page for the month of June

A picture of the inside of the book On This Day in Grateful Dead history opened to the page for the shows on June 24th

Peace out my good people. Until next week!



 
 
 

Comments

bottom of page