Umphrey's McGee
My Reaction To Umphrey’s McGee’s “it’s you” release
By Rob Turner
Last week Umphrey’s McGee continued the ongoing celebration of its 20th Anniversary by releasing it’s you, in sudden and unannounced fashion. This is a collection of songs culled from the same sessions that gave us it’s not us earlier this year. While the band has built a deserved reputation for being one of the most “fan friendly” in all of music, the assertion on the band’s website that, “it is not us, it’s truly you, the fans” while accurate, does not strike me as the theme of this record. This lyrically cohesive, musically, and particularly harmonically adventurous release seems to come with its own message, and one that to some extent revisits the theme of one of its most celebrated songs, “Divisions.”
The songs of it’s you are filled with themes of finding common ground, paying attention to detail, looking beyond one’s frame of reference, coming together, connectivity, compromise and the importance of individualism over the parroting of dogma. The lyrics in this package strike me as the band’s most direct to date, and they speak to me as a comment upon how strident and polarizing the discourse of today can be - be it in personal relationships, or on a societal level. Our country has become increasingly dominated by opinions derived from inflexible, uncompromising, sometimes even extremist frames of reference.
The lyrics of it’s you seem to address this, and as such this release resonates with me more than any other Umphrey’s McGee studio release. This is so despite that fact that this band’s music in general, and specifically the lyrics of Brendan Bayliss, were a vital part of my own coping with the emotions associated with my divorce.
It doesn’t hurt that in it’s you the band touches upon themes addressed by my most cherished lyricist, Bob Dylan - the self-reliance in “Trust Yourself” (“What We Could Get,” “Attachments”) and the side-choosing, and sense of being in the wrong place of “Desolation Row” (“Triangle Tear,” “Push and Pull”). In fact we are in that territory very quickly, as the lead track, “Triangle Tear” begins lyrically with Bayliss singing….
“Whose side are you really on, there maybe be one last chance to turn it all around
Whose right who already left, if you’re asking me what did you expect?”
The voice speaks of a solution being buried while the world keeps on with its so-called “evolution” - with many too accepting of easy answers and being too eager to win the approval of the people within similar social circles than they are in looking within (“I’ll take a nibble if it’s free and it comes with a gift”) - people being more interested in arriving at an opinion, than in careful examination “a scribble to the side line, maybe you missed.” This in turn blindly leads us into increasingly dangerous territory, “we bury the solution, we don’t know why.”
The song also seems to comment on how the net result is that we become further mired in our own camps, in a time when we should be efforting more to understand each other. “I realize where you’re coming from, but do you understand it only works for some?” We advance ourselves through compromise and finding common ground, not by shouting at each other from positions of inflexibility. “There’s three sides we need to cover, there’s yours and their mine but there’s got to be another.” People aren’t looking for higher understanding, they are just digging their heels in the ground, “decisions gotta be, what was already made.” It is important to note that Joel Cummins’ keyboard work is pivotal, at times echoing the Bayliss vocals, other times merging with Jake Cinninger’s typically tone-perfect, at times acrobatic guitar work to underscore the urgency of our situation and the darkness of our plight as the third point of the triangle continues to tear away, or is it bringing tears? Either works for me.
Opportunism and finding one’s self beyond the talking points seem to fill the lyrics of “What We Could Get,” a track which immediately joins the “best ever” conversation regarding the annals of recorded Cinninger compositions. The voice of the song seems to be speaking to someone who has gotten themselves boxed-in and is in such a rut that (s)he has lost her/himself. “Walk through the empty walls alone and find yourself.” Subtle effects lend a sort of ethereal anguish to Cinniger’s vocal as he sings...
“Never looked beyond the lines that keep us in
You know its strange to you
Always wanted the best of what we could get
Given to you”
I initially thought the ensuing, “Push and Pull” was going to be about surrendering to apathy, but the lyrics below suggest that the voice is trying to break someone free of the chains of his/her own closed mind and the associated hollow and curious joy he/she gets from flaunting it.
“I still don’t know what it might mean, but I’d meet you somewhere in between
I won’t plead no I won’t beg, but I can’t look the other way.
The truth is I’m still confused, but I don’t hope the same for you
Heaven always knows the right line and when, to write it down.”
The voice of the song brings forth what may be the thesis statement for the record, ““The truth as far as I’m concerned, without an open mind you’re never gonna learn.” There is something to be learned from EVERYONE - if you remain aware of this, then common ground should not be impossible to find, and your interests should lie beyond merely winning arguments.
“Whatever happened to, these people that I thought I knew
this isn’t where I thought we would be.
I turned to look around,
everyone I knew is gone before we even had a chance to breathe.”
We can argue even about the reasons why this has happened, but too many people have, in the blink of an eye, become completely lost in themselves and in their own world perspective.
By the time we get to “In The Black,” the hard-driving rhythm section of Kris Myers and Andy Farag, and muscular bass from Ryan Stasik each serve to suggest an increasing and unrelenting urgency. “Don’t misread what the signs all say, it’s not up to you anyway.” You don’t have to be hyper-vigilant and desperate to arrive at broad, inflexible decision points. “We never even have a say, the plea however has to be made.” Yes, it is great that the powerless now have a voice in this world, yet the voice of this song is begging for this power to be used carefully.
The importance of careful evaluation of one’s position “don’t be afraid to live again, no” and the reality that there is no fear in compromise, in fact it should be your goal, “the in-between is where you’ve got to get, we’re all the same here in the end though” each are also addressed.
The bombast in this song, like that which is on much of this record, is purposeful. It serves to underscore how we are on a very dangerous precipice, and too many people are too completely lost in themselves to see it. It’s almost as if Umphrey’s wants to coax with thoughtful lyrics, and shake sense into people with occasionally aggressive music. The frantic nature of the bridge is particularly exemplary of each. The voice (is) couples its own compromise offer with an expression of frustration, repeating “maybe it’s me and I’m misunderstanding you, but lately it feels like I’m never getting through” toward the end of the song - which ultimately merges with a closing instrumental that harbors as much elegance as it does power before closing with a return to the central riff of the song.
“Xmas at Wartime” is a lilting instrumental with a subtle march, which seems to suggest that we are slowly and quietly marching ourselves to our own death. The title suggests that bastardizations of, and arguments about religion are a large part of this parade toward our own demise.
The title of the next song “Seasons” also comes with its own suggestions. Here it is the passing of time, and the way the truly introspective person’s sense of self can evolve. There is self-examination within the urgency here, the voice throughout the song is looking within with one eye, while the other eye is fixed on the clock as it runs down.
“So if you’ve got a better song
Then I can’t wait to sing along
But how long do we have to wait?”
The sleepy fire with which Bayliss sings suggests the voice of the song’s bemusement, perhaps with the situation, perhaps with whom the voice is singing to, perhaps with himself.
“So I look beyond the mirror, ‘cause I know I can’t forgive
All my indiscretions - I’m still learning how to live”
Again we hear about the “facts and opinions and the differences they share,” but this one seems like a person not wanting a personal relationship to be infected by the divisions of the world, first with, “I’m just trying to tell you so that you know I still care” and then later with, “so if it’s possible, to make myself responsible - I’ll set the table if you’ll make yourself available.” This is a call to togetherness. An olive branch being extended within a storm. This is a key song in the collection, as it exhibits that the message of this record is not being sent with any sort of haughtiness.
The voice wants to get beyond the surface, so how appropriate for a chunky-riff laden song like “Nether” to follow. Ominous vocals (including a most stridently exuberant “haaa-eeey” out of Jake) are juxtaposed with those which are more melodic, in Opeth-like fashion. Cinninger is at once relating a sort of anger and despair. Again, the hard-driving music highlights how imperative the need is. Cinninger is borderline yelling when he says “to see into your future” and then Bayliss takes over the vocals to croon a reminder which includes “it’s not about who’s wrong or right, the situation’s yours and mine” over a music backdrop which somehow harbors both breeze and brawn. Then they return to the almost industrial feel from earlier, resolving in tandem with the declarative “time, let’s go.”
“Hanging Chads,” written by Stasik, is another suggestive title, here indicating misrepresentation. Many Florida votes in the 2000 presidential election were misinterpreted due to “hanging chads” on the ballots. The “I fucking hate you” lyric and Guinness-soaked Flogging Molly’esque Irish punk feel seem to almost mock the stupidity of how hatred has evolved not primarily from actual hateful behavior, but mostly from the pathetic over-reactions and overt distortions of opinions. Sometimes it isn’t even the opinions themselves, but presumptions of the motivations of the opiner (if this wasn’t a word, it is now, my friends) which seem to motivate these attacks.
One quick personal note here. I have been listening to, and seeing Umphrey’s for 17 or so years now. Quite frankly, more often than not my enjoyment of their songs comes with time. Many of the ones I now treasure did not “reach” me much initially….sometimes not at all. The appreciation for me often comes with the benefit of time and from experiencing live versions of the songs multiple times either through recordings or seeing them performed live. I mention this because I found it of great personal significance that this record which has resonated so clearly with me ends with two songs, each of which I enjoyed from the very first time I heard them - each of which are also wildly improved from outstanding studio treatment.
“Attachments” begins the summarization of thesis.
“Really there’s no obligation
When everything is left to your own motivation
And even if you can’t ever find it
You know it never hurts if you gotta redefine”
“And while we’re on the subject
Aint nobody perfect
Somebody will always lose
And the last time I checked it
We’re all still connected
Even through different views”
The band’s message should be clear as a bell to even the most casual listener at this point. We are all flawed, we are all in this together, so why would any of us try to push anyone away with inflexible thought? Bayliss is singing at points with borderline frantic desperation, but the melodic chorus and metallic lilt to the rhythm keeps the song from losing inviting qualities. Why would anyone choose to blindly attach themselves to the words of another? Ironically this can isolate people even from themselves, as it only provides, “empty shade” from the light of higher understanding. We need someone to believe in, but we should hold onto that belief loosely. The song closes with measured Cinninger guitar work and hard-driving Kris Myers drums bolstering the repeated lyrical resolve of, “don’t be so ungrateful if you know you’ll never use it at all,” which gives way to a superb, “think this shit over” guitar solo from Cinninger.
Then the sweet relief of the delicate acoustic guitar and “what is that gorgeous sound?” accompaniment introduction to a song which became among my favorite songs EVER from the very first time I heard it in St. Augustine a few years back, “Upward.” Absolutely superb production and moving lyrics drive the song….with Myers deftly handling the tempos, some varying with subtlety, others more radically. The lyrics start with arguably one of the great tragedies of all of this…..the loss of our ability to make each other laugh - which when taken appropriately actually builds bridges, …..something so obvious to some of us….yet something becoming increasingly rare. Hypersensitivity is eroding this. However the voice of the song efforts to make this vital message palatable by again looking within for his own errors in his ways.
“Wit and wisdom used to visit now and then
‘Cuz I wasn’t talking I was listenin’
My overthinking tendency is a burden here
The instance is a technicality I’ll forgive.”
The song also speaks to how the “system isn’t working right,” and how there is “too much space” (the table-pounding extremists have too much of a voice?). The song, and it turn the record ends with a call to step away from feeling entitled (“you know as well as I, deserve’s too strong a word to write) followed by a classic Umphrey’s build, with the band swirling with increasing strength behind the brilliant Cinninger guitar work. Then it returns to the “system isn’t working right” stanza and offers one final energy burst before slowly fading away into the ether and we are left to ourselves and our decisions on how best to interact with those with whom we disagree moving forward.
As we were reminded in “Push and Pull,” - “If this is one mistake you know we only have ourselves to thank.”
- Rob Turner, 05/23/2018
Dead & Co | ATL
Published: 2017/12/01
by Rob Turner
Dead & Company in Atlanta
Dead & Company took a darkened Philips Arena stage and like the morning sun they gradually brought color and life, starting with a brief instrumental which settled into a bluesy gallop through the ubiquitous, “Truckin.” Oteil’s loud-and-clear bass and bright orange lights fixed on the front-and-center general admission floor each seemed to fuel the band to a mid-song energy burst. Bob Weir brought forth a vocal segue to what was, whether intentional or not, the evening’s tribute to Atlanta music icon Col. Bruce Hampton – a brief-but-tasty run through “Smokestack Lightnin’.” As orange lights shimmered on the perimeter of a purple stage with spots of blue on the crowd, I thought about how Hampton had performed his final concert at the Fox Theater just a mile and a half away seven months prior, and how this song had over the years received the benefit of his inimitable bellowing voice many times.
A breezy take on “Dire Wolf” was bookended by examples of both the benefits and drawbacks of the downtempo approach this band often employs. While “Feel Like a Stranger” offered scattered moments of impressive interplay, it also never coalesced energetically. The slow tempos here resulted in more than a couple of moments of plodding. Whereas with “Loser” an almost halting pace helped tell the story as a dirty feel emerged which accurately portrayed anguish. The band was locked-in tight throughout with Mayer and keyboardist Jeff Chimenti offering particularly gorgeous colorings. At one point, Mayer goaded a seemingly spontaneous solo out of Jeff (he would do so again later during “Viola Lee Blues”). It was an outstanding version which earned an audience response so rousing it would elicit in turn a, “why, thanks” from Weir.
What followed was a pairing of songs each of which has many times been a first set centerpiece for this band. “Cassidy,” quickly spun off of The Grateful Dead page by moving away from the song structure early in the piece. Lighting designer Chris Ragan’s delightful contrast between the colors on the audience and those on the band seemed to propel the energy. As the last vocals were sung before the monster closing jam the intensity of the moment was heightened by the lights focusing on the stage alone. While improv lay within, this part of the song is starting to develop its own increasingly-multiple-sectioned Dead & Company sort of, “structure.” There was an almost orchestral feel at one point, before they dropped seamlessly into some sterling, gently-rhythmic quiet interplay.
Improv-lovers were then thrown a bone as this adventurous spirit led to a majestically open-ended exploration of the Garcia/Hunter masterpiece, “Bird Song.” Before we reached the first set of Weir/Mayer shared vocals, the band had made it clear that we were in for a ride. The careful listeners most certainly were, as a sea of textures, themes and rhythms were traversed, with Weir’s uniquely angular guitarwork frequently driving the train.
“Deal,” followed, and Mayer-jumping seemingly inspired similar audience behavior repeatedly. At one point multi-colored Grateful Dead poker chips spun above the band as a taut rhythm catapulted an electrified Chimenti. Mayer would take over with authority and tear it up for a bit before returning the song to the repeated chorus. He and Weir brought the 80 minute opening set to a close with some spirited vocal improvisation off of the timeless, “donthca let that deal go down.”
A groove-oriented “Help On The Way,” and a mesmerizing “Slipknot” began the 2nd set. Mayer aggressively set the tempo as the band transitioned into, “Franklin’s Tower,” which harbored a rabbit-like bounce. Mayer resolved one uproarious solo with a smooth move to an appropriately quiet prelude to the “may the four winds blow you safely home” verse. He also demonstrated restraint during “Comes a Time” allowing for Weir’s familiar guitarwork to be heard clearly behind Burbridge’s passionately delivered vocals. The entire band shined on the highlight of the set, an explosively moody “Viola Lee Blues,” which would dissolve into the drums segment.
Initially taking on a rainforest feel, drums unfolded into Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann’s typically brilliant melding of electronic sounds, sampled vocals and artful traditional drumming. The duo would be joined by Oteil to help produce an intoxicating feel, which morphed into mystical realms when Mickey moved to “The Beam.”
The other members returned and soon Weir led them into “Wharf Rat,” which maintained its affecting beauty despite some rough harmonies and moments of tentative playing. “Throwing Stones” would follow with Peach-enhanced “Steal Your Face” artwork and at-times cascading screen art augmenting the music without being too distracting. Weir was commanding as the band powered its way through the song which is somehow even more timely today than when it was written over 25 years ago. A Weir-slide-and-crafty-Mayer-driven romp through “U. S. Blues” found John hopping around the stage with playful shame after one botched lyric. He shared with Weir lead vocals on this and the sole-encore glide through the beautifully reflective, “Brokedown Palace” which brought to an end another chapter in this band’s brief, but impressive history.
****
Link to full article on Jambands.com
Dead & Co | Columbus, OH
PUBLISHED NOVEMBER 29, 2017
Dead & Company Give What Love They Have To Give To Columbus
Words by Rob Turner
The 2017 Dead & Company fall tour has created quite a buzz, so perhaps this is part of why the band fit right at home in Nationwide Arena this past Saturday night. This was D&C’s first trip back to Columbus since 2015 on their debut fall tour. While the Blue Jackets hockey team has been battling for first place in the Metropolitan Division of the NHL, Dead & Company will have on this night taken over the team’s building, and in turn, efforted to keep the music of the Grateful Dead living, breathing, buzzing and evolving.
The stage was swimming in blue and purple as the band strolled onto it to begin what would be an hour-long first set. They opened with what I believe may be guitarist John Mayer’s favorite Jerry Garcia arrangement, that of the old folk ballad, “Cold, Rain and Snow.” A great selection in part because the band consistently nails this one (okay, this version had one minor slip-up), and in part because playing a song that is over a century old can make even a band’s oldest members seem comparatively young. Mayer did not deviate as much from the Garcia’s approach as he has with other versions, yet he still offered a variety of elaborations throughout, even on the familiar Garcia low-note central guitar line. A slightly slow-tempo take on the Bob Weir composition of “The Music Never Stopped,” which appeared on the Grateful Dead’s mid-70s Blues For Allah record followed. While the band’s musical arrangement is closest to late-era Grateful Dead, the vocals of the bridge are brought forth more similarly to those of versions from the 70s (with Mayer handling the counterpoint vocals in the style of former GD vocalist Donna Jean Godchaux) when the song was a toddler. Mayer and bassist Oteil Burbridge’s flowing lines twirled around each other as Weir’s brash guitar tone provided the framework for the gradual build. Toward the end, after Weir sang a few extra “never stopped’s,” Mayer took over, first laying low, letting Burbridge and Weir shine, but not known for shyness, Mayer would ultimately get aggressive himself. While the song never hit a large energy peak (it seemed as though Weir cut off the best chance at one), the relentless musician interplay provided plenty of satisfaction.
You can stream each show of the Dead & Company Fall Tour on nugs.tv
“Row Jimmy” followed, a song which had been a bit of a show-stopper in the early days of this band. Mayer’s comfort-level with this song appeared as quickly as Artemi Panarin’s did on Columbus ice this season. While the band’s familiarity with the song clearly still exists, and the embellishments off of the gentle reggae-cousin’d rhythm of the song are certainly lush, this version did not pack the punch of others. It even plodded along a bit at one point. They followed with two songs which had provided the low points of the band’s otherwise powerful New York City tour-debut pair of shows – “Me and My Uncle” and “Cumberland Blues.” Again, they somehow found a way to make the former seem like a difficult song to play, although this time the latter was executed in considerably more focused fashion. Perhaps letting Mayer set the tempo for “Cumberland” was helpful….maybe the fact that Cumberland, Ohio was just an hour’s drive away played a role…I don’t know. Something worked, and this version was strong from the start. Even before the first verse Mayer and Weir had moved together at the front of the stage and engaged in some cowboy-funk mingled guitars. There were plenty of energy bursts in this spirited rendition, and some grand piano which once again exemplified why Jeff Chimenti is the ideal choice to play keys in this band. Well-timed shots of a joyful crowd demonstrated that when I go to the cliche of describing this song as a, “fan favorite,” it is not me being a lazy journalist with nothing much to say. It’s just true.
Then we went back to, from what I understand is where it all began for this band, “Althea.” John Mayer was slated to host the CBS Late, Late Show in early 2015 (the brief period between the tenures of Craig Ferguson and James Corden), and at the time he was deep in the throes of his own Grateful Dead discovery. He invited Weir onto the show, and reportedly Mayer had been particularly moved by “Althea” and was eager to perform it with Bob. They did, and it was the initial genesis of Dead & Company. Although occasional tempo issues and some Mayer over-singing (particularly towards the end) kept this version from being a standout reading of the song, there was most certainly some ear-delicious playing, particularly during the extended instrumental before the “there are things you can replace” bridge. Mayer played off of his band mates as the band stretched in a way Tthe Grateful Dead rarely did at that point in the song. Mayer seemed to feed off of Chimenti the most, with some great fanning, which rather than signalling a instrumental conclusion, instead spawned more jamming. Mayer got busy with the drummers, playing off of them liberally during another tasty instrumental before the song’s final verse. The set-closer was perhaps notable only as a tour debut, presumably because this was the first Saturday show of the tour. However, even the fresh approaches of Mayer, Burbridge and Chimenti’s again failed to make “One More Saturday Night” interesting to me.
The first set had been mostly strong, but not up to the high standard that Dead & Company have set this tour. However, even the brilliant Columbus goaltender Sergei Bobrovski would have to have been impressed with how the band “saved” the evening with a “pre-drums” portion of the second set which at points featured playing that was so inspired that even scattered sloppiness would not at all derail the band. They started up with Mayer’s blues chops on full display on the canvass which was provided by the down-tempo start to, “St. Stephen,” which in turn ended up coming off more as a crazy blues-based jazz workout than any sort of attempt at psychedelic mayhem. The “lady finger” bridge was handled about as smoothly as Jared Boll welcomes some of the Blue Jackets’ most feisty opponents though. It was brutal. Maybe they could brush up on this section and consider letting Oteil sing it? Even percussionist Mickey Hart seemed kind of baffled at this moment, so much so that I suspect this is why the webcast director zoomed him out of frame. They would recover, with some lightning quick riffs from Mayer eventually inspiring a loping rhythm into which the band members initially locked.
You can stream each show of the Dead & Company Fall Tour on nugs.tv
This would later give way to the best section of the song with Mayer moving to his right and turning toward Burbridge and then engaging in some sumptuous interplay while energetically spring boarding off of his own left leg. This was mesmerizing and it built to a sort of gliding peak. When they finally settled back into more exploration-induced energy surges, they would reference “The Eleven” along the way (as this band always does, and as they had done earlier in this version).
Weir’s clangy, melodic rhythm guitar would provide a brief but interesting bridge to “He’s Gone.” He completely botched the first line and then cursed himself on mic. I thought we were headed for a train wreck. I was very wrong. By the time they hit the chorus, the band was already sounding very sweet. Director Charlie Harris treated the home viewers to a wide shot of the stage gorgeously painted in blue, red and orange with a color-appropriate hypnotic kaleidoscope design morphing over the band. The vocals blended very well during the bridge, and there was an appropriately defined stop/start after the “knife in the back” line. Weir gave his face a wipe, and then a Russian nesting doll-esque group of the famous “Steal Your Face” dead logos inside of other logos presided over the band to underscore the, “steal your face right off your head” line.
The jam out of “He’s Gone” would take a decidedly different than usual direction, first hinting at “Loose Lucy,” and then finding Mayer playing the Garcia licks which signal the beginning of, “China Cat Sunflower.” They were loose and stretching from the start, taking their time playing off of each other with prudent embellishments clearly in a “China Cat” context. A spinning yellow sunflower whose brightness was accented by the darkened stage all before a line of the song had been sung greatly assisted the vibe. The band extended on the instrumental before the third verse so much that one could easily have forgotten about this final stanza and assumed they had moved on. They hadn’t, and not only did they return to the “China Cat,” but after what seemed for a second to be a somewhat normal start, the band hung on one chord and the outro jam immediately took on a different feel.
My interior monologue at this point follows…
“What? A ballad out of China Cat? Wait…what will it……whoa, was that?…..no just a Jeff tease….had to just be a tease.….whoa…..is that?……..it can’t be…..NO WAY……YES…..”If I Had The World To Give!’”
This song from the Grateful Dead’s 1978 Shakedown Street had seemingly become forgotten by the Dead, and even many associated with the organization a couple of years after it was released. Only performed a handful of times by the Dead, it has also been almost completely ignored by post-Garcia GD-Family bands. Why? Perhaps the lyrics are a bit literal and languishing when compared to others from lyricist Robert Hunter. I’m not really sure. I like the song, but am not sure I still would have after a few years of it being in regular GD rotation. The most notable post-Garcia version of the song before tonight would have to be Warren Haynes’ Symphonic take on it. Whatever the case, it is undeniably notable that they busted out a song that half of the band had not touched in almost 40 years. These are the moments which encourage many to get on the road and chase a band like this from town to town. While it was certainly odd placement, as any ballad coming out of “China Cat Sunflower” might seem to be, who cares? They played the damn thing! Perhaps some in the band weren’t sure they were going to nail it as well as they did, and the thinking may have been that even a botched version would at least retain the novelty of having split the traditional “China>Rider” pairing.
They did absolutely nail it though, predominantly due to Oteil’s supremely elegant lead vocal. However, the delicacy of all six musicians’ input was of course pivotal as well. One would assume it will be a post-drums centerpiece ballad, or perhaps even an encore selection, moving forward.
Mayer’s final note was still echoing off as Weir’s squish’y-toned guitar began the road to, “I Know You Rider.” Burbridge and Chimenti painted behind the increasingly cohesive, plaintive Mayer/Weir melding, flowing the music naturally to the first “I know you…” It would have been a transition jam if it hadn’t felt undeniably like “Rider” all along. A spirited version would unfold, and the slow spotlight zoom on the webcast was nice touch during the rousing “I wish a was a headlight, on a northbound train” lyric. Although at this moment some might want to see Weir’s feverish vocal delivery. Perhaps a split-screen might be worth a shot here? Mayer offered a sterling solo, finding a way to play off of every other member of the band at various points as they slowly cooked up a delicious musical stew. They even flirted with a salsa vibe for a little stretch along the way. The center screen also gave us a shot of a train toward the end of the song, perhaps an homage to the Central Ohio Railroad?
The stage went dark immediately after “Rider” came to a close, leaving sampled chanting and jungle sounds set an initial vibe for another drum segment. Hart again had turned to the back of the stage so he could cue a variety of sounds from his brightly colored drum-skyscraper, leading the jungle vibe into Sci-Fi realms. Bill Kreutzmann would eventually make his way to his own wall of colored drums, and find his own sea of rhythmic sound to lend to the proceedings. As this progressed it dawned on me that this duo has become incredibly adept at melding modern EDM’ish sounds and approaches with their own deeply organic and unique feel. Then Hart made his way to his self-made, indescribable little sonic joy, “The Beam.” I stopped thinking and started melting. When Hart started incorporating a large cylinder as a slide, the sound fleshed-out gloriously and so did the graphics. This was beautiful stuff which also served to set the table nicely for the return of the other four musicians.
The aquatic-space graphics spilled into the three screens at times during the space, which would be far more developed than perhaps any I have yet seen from this band. The graphics morphed with the music as the members all laid back, took their time, and slowly moved the music. Eventually Burbridge and Mayer would take control of the bus and steer it right to a tantalizing part of town. While I am not dead set against bands strictly adhering to setlists in order to maintain order, this jam could be a case for occasionally throwing a setlist out the window. John and Oteil had stirred the pot to such an extent that it seemed as though the band should have spiraled into a song which could have benefited from this energy.
Instead they settled into “Stella Blue,” which seemed to bring the energy to a halt initially. Weir’s vocal on this one has grown on me, although it did not seem as effective as it had been in New York earlier this tour. It most certainly benefited from the oh-so-subtle melodic inputs from his band mates. This song gave us the nicest stage shot of the evening – Mayer and Chimenti painting on the large screens while star-surrounded Garcia’ish guitar filled the center screen.
A moving Mayer-led jam out of “Stella Blue” would settle into a down-tempo, almost swing take on “All Along The Watchtower.” Setlist-watchers will notice that this was the third show in a row with a Bob Dylan cover, after the band had not touched Dylan at all the 12 shows previous to that. “Johnny Slayer” utilized his wah-wah to get out some yah-yah’s, although he at points seemed to revert back to forgetting about his band mates. If he is gonna shred, they should play this song at a faster tempo. If they are gonna play it down-tempo, we need more interplay. Just my two cents. There was some bits of cool interplay at the very end of the song, but it was too little too late. I couldn’t help but wonder what this “Watchtower” would have been like if it had flowed out of the superb jam which had blossomed during space.
Arguably the ultimate Grateful Dead set-closer followed. “Sugar Magnolia” started with a mellow feel, gained steam, and then the punchy stop-starts which kick off the jam (and which are a post-Garcia addition) stoked the fire. A gorgeous jam at the back end of “Sugar Magnolia” would probably have had this old guy twirling like a pudgy baton had I been in attendance. Although it seemed as though it could have gone on longer. They had time. They kicked up some more dirt during “Sunshine Daydream,” which even featured some old school, “haaay’s” outta Weir. Very fun, but again, came off a tad shortened. Was somebody in the band late for a flight, or something? They also slow-marched to the last chords, rather than catapult to them, and while I applaud the effort to try something different, I also found it to be a bit odd. Mayer and Weir would then bust out their acoustic guitars and share lead vocals on an absolutely gorgeous “Ripple” encore. Mayer offered almost flamenco’y flourishes, Oteil some delicacy and the screens some seriously trippy ripples (tRipples?) as Weir sang “ripple in still water, when there is no pebble tossed, nor wind to blow.”
Dead & Company will be live webcasting each of their shows on their fall tour which can be purchased via nugs.tv here.
Link to article on Show The Show
