10-23-71 Eastown Theater, Detroit, MI gd71-10-23.sbd.miller.111673.flac16

1: Bertha, Playin’ in the Band, Loser, Mexicali Blues, Sugaree, Jack Straw, Big Railroad Blues, El Paso, Ramble On Rose, Me & Bobby McGee, Cumberland Blues, Brokedown Palace, One More Saturday Night 2: Casey Jones, Me & My Uncle, Tennessee Jed, Sugar Magnolia, Comes A Time, Truckin’, Brown Eyed Women, Not Fade Away> Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad> Not Fade Away

10-24-71 Eastown Theatre, Detroit, MI gd71-10-24.03292.sbd.clugston.sbeok.flac16

1: Sugar Magnolia, Deal, El Paso, Tennessee Jed, Jack Straw, China Cat Sunflower>I Know You Rider, Playin’ in the Band, Black Peter, Candyman, One More Saturday Night, Casey Jones 2: Truckin’, Ramble On Rose, Mexicali Blues, Dark Star>Me and Bobby McGee, Cumberland Blues, St. Stephen> Johnny B. Goode

These are Keith Godchaux’s third and fourth shows with the band. What strange shows they were: back to back in the same building but worlds apart. Godchaux must have been wondering what in hell he signed up for. The venue was Detroit's nasty Eastown Theater. It opened in 1931 as a movie house. In its waning years it was gutted by fire and stood a ruin in one of Detroit’s worst neighborhoods until it was razed in 2015. It held 2,500 and hosted rock concerts from 1969 to 1973. The Dead played there only on these two nights and no wonder. It was not greeted by a Dead crowd. It is a testament to the band’s commitment to its music if not to doing things its own way, that it persevered and created beauty amid the Motown heathens.

A reminiscing website gives a flavor of the Eastown's ugliness: It “was all blue-collar — and it was rough. ‘I remember stepping over a body that had overdosed in front of the backstage door on my way in to talk to Alice [Cooper]...Decadence was treated casually at the Eastown’….Between Sept. 19, 1969, and Dec. 17, 1971, the theater received six violations for overcrowding. It also was no secret that the Eastown was a haven for drugs. Detroit police and city officials knew about it, ‘but fear that any move to stop the drug traffic will provoke a riot’ allowed the thriving, unchecked drug dealing to continue.”

10/23/71: The theme of this show is inner peace through conflict. Each song finishes in an exasperated give and take between the band and loud hecklers. Likely as a consequence of the menacing vibe, the band played what were essentially two first sets. There is no launch sequence; not even a flirtation with the outer atmosphere. The banter suggests that the band was tired or just tired of the clueless audience.

Loser is gorgeous. Garcia’s vocal is earnest and clean. But afterwards, someone is screaming, “Get down!” Phil sheepishly responds, “this here’s kind of a get down song…I must admit ” Weir adds with desultory sarcasm, “Uh, yeah, it gets down” and launches into Mexicali Blues. What he wanted to say was: and you can shove it. After Sugaree the impatience grows. One somewhat angry voice continues to yell, “Get down”. Weir counters, “Hey, the word tonight is easy goin’…you know how it is.” Then, after Jack Straw, a voice threateningly yells, “how about a long f***ing drum solo, baby.” One of the drummers mockingly responds, “later, baby”, but Lesh jumps in: “relax man, relax man, we don’t respond to that shit.” After Big Railroad Blues, the contest with the crowd continues. Garcia: “Shout encouragement…it ain’t hard”. Lesh: “Hey, we got electricity on our side, man, this is an unequal battle all the way.” It goes on and on like this.

Remarkably and laughably, the band’s song selection steadfastly refused to respond to the crowd. Its folk, country, ballad, is spoon fed with near perfection to a crowd screaming itself hoarse for a punch in the face. It wanted Judas Priest, apparently, and the Dead gave them Me and Bobby McGee, Cumberland Blues and Brokedown Palace. Each is played as sweetly as the next. The tempo never gallops, the vocals never forced. They’re telling the crowd: Screw you – this is what we do. Sugaree and Jack Straw are almost studio quality, while Brokedown Palace is one of the better live versions I’ve heard. Amazing contrast between stage and audience. It’s as if they’re decorating a wedding cake during a bar fight…and still produced a gorgeous, multi-tiered confection.

The second set is more of the same. Wonderfully played songs produced for an indifferent and intemperate crowd. It opens with Casey Jones and all the feel good, 1971 harmonies. Tennessee Jed is crisp and new sounding (it was all of about five days old). Fans of Comes A Time need to hear this very early version. One wonders who Garcia was singing to at this point. It was no one in the theater. The spectacularly delicate and pleading vocal comes from his own space.

There is a small jam out of Truckin’, but they pack it in quickly. The close out is Not Fade Away>Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad>Not Fade Away, after Garcia is heard saying, “Let’s get out of here.” So, they tear it off and say goodnight. After all of this, I was hoping they’d keep Johnny B. Goode on the shelf and head for the bus. Sure enough, the crowd stomps its feet for three or four minutes to no avail. This band didn’t leave the brokedown Eastown on its hands and knees.

10/24/71: The menace has vaporized. Let’s call this the second set to the previous night’s long first set. The nominal first set here opens predictably enough with some repetition, typical for a late ’71 show: Sugar Magnolia, Deal, El Paso, Tennessee Jed, Jack Straw. Each is textbook. None soars but each is smooth: tight playing, heavenly vocals. Are we warmed up now? Good. The boys have come to play. China Cat Sunflower>I Know You Rider is so perfect it brings relief. It’s the Red Cross on a tsunami beach, Grateful Dead style. The international assistance continues as Playin’ in the Band follows and becomes a highlight of the show. Who’s to say whether Jehovah’s favorite choir conquered Eastown’s forces of evil or whether they simply decided to give the unrepentant a glimpse of paradise. Keith’s piano shows up in the opening of Playin’ giving it a whole new color. What a wonderful sound. Pigpen is newly absent and the band must have been falling in love with this new sound. Obviously, Playin’ became a much different vehicle only a year later, but at about 3:15 we hear what’s coming as Garcia begins playing with his new toy, disassembling its parts and beginning to experiment by moving them around. Nothing blows up, but the test tubes start bubbling. With Kreutzman anchoring the rhythm alone and Donna Godchaux not yet on the scene, this is good ole Grateful Dead. So pure and fresh. Black Peter follows and absolutely kills. It’s stately and gently swings, while Garcia cries through the lyrics. And we’re still not done with set one.

Candyman continues Garcia’s vocal command of the proceedings. The opening harmony looses the key for bit, but they nonetheless deliver a wonderful reading. When it was new, One More Saturday Night was much more interesting than the tired throw away encore it became. Phil leans into it and Keith makes Elton John sounds on the piano. Even Weir’s screaming is fresh. Don’t we just love 1971? What a high on which to send to audience off before the break…except for Casey Jones which breathlessly closes out the set with its chugging and churning.

The second set opens with Truckin’, which when contrasted with the same song the night before, illustrates the stark difference between the two shows. Garcia’s jamming is alive and powerful. What was mailed in on Saturday is revelatory on Sunday. But let’s get to why I will listen to this show more than once. Dark Star (20:50) opens with a gentle and somewhat careful exploration of the theme before dissipating into a confused four-way conversation among Weir, Garcia, Lesh, and Kreutzman, and then resolves itself at about 7:30 in melody and the first vocal break. All that follows up to the second one at 19:08 is florid jamming, including, at 13:14, when Phil’s bass announces a brisk Uncle John’s Band jam. It lacks the majesty of the next Dark Star (10/31/71 in Columbus; Dick's Picks #2), but anticipates it, which is inexplicable given the harsh environment. Weir follows with Me and Bobby McGee which flows like honey like most did from this time. The spell is broken unfortunately by Weir telling his “yellow dog” story, prompting a fan to yell, “You’re fired!” This cracks up Garcia. The meaningful part of this show closes with Cumberland Blues and the penultimate St. Stephen before it disappeared for four years. We cannot know if they knew it was going on the shelf, but it’s played here like butter. There is no 1969 explosiveness or vocal excess, even after the bridge. This one is a lullaby.

Only the curious will listen to 10/23/71; only completists will collect it. 10/24/71, however, is a wonderful show from an important and formative transition period. It belongs in the collection.