Grateful Dead—Dance Hall, Rio Nido, California, September 3, 1967

The Dance Hall in Rio Nido was a modest-looking place, hidden away on a side road not far from the Russian River. The town was a popular recreation destination in the 1930s, ‘40s, and ‘50s, when the Big Band era was in full swing and many famous ensembles played at the dance hall, including the likes of Count Basie and Harry James. By the time the 1960s rolled around, acts such as The Beach Boys, Jefferson Airplane, and The Grateful Dead were booking gigs at the tiny Sonoma County club.

On Labor Day weekend of 1967, the Dead were scheduled to play at The Magic Music Festival in Aptos. When the event was canceled, the band was left with a hole in their schedule, so Rock Scully and Danny Rifkin pivoted and booked the band for two nights in Rio Nido. Two Owsley-recorded tapes exist from the weekend concerts. They’re brief, but potent. Of note, they appear to be the only 1967 soundboard tapes Bear made of the band. In the end, the Dead spent a week or so in the redwood-shrouded Russian River enclave, honing their new original songs prior to traveling to L.A. to begin work on Anthem of the Sun.

The tape begins with a solid Dancin' In The Streets. At around the two-and-a-half-minute mark, Jerry ignites his ‘57 Les Paul and the band takes off for an extended voyage; the music is stunning, and the song is deconstructed and built back up as a jam that soars with elongated, spirited ideas. Listening closely, one can hear what sounds like the genesis of Dark Star in Jerry’s solo. We can’t be completely sure of course, but the Dancin' jam is certainly an important piece of improvisation historically, at least in terms of the tape record, and it might plausibly be the seed around which Dark Star precipitated. Next up, we get some prime ’67 Pig, beginning with the blues standard, It Hurts Me Too. The version is exceptional, with a perfect balance of McKernan’s harp playing, Jerry’s swampy, well-timed riffs, and a vocal delivery exuding just the right amount of empathy and tenderness. A high-speed Cold Rain and Snow paves the way for more Pig action—a sassy 10 minutes of Good Morning Little School Girl. Viola Lee Blues, clearly the centerpiece of the show, is next on the docket. This version is chock-full of rich, high-speed ensemble playing and might just be my favorite version committed to tape. Alas, the beginning of the tune does not appear on the surviving soundboard recording.

The show ends with a swinging 15 minutes of Alligator. Pigpen marshals the group with his trademark bravado, and the take is brilliant. There’s plenty of surprises and the feedback/organ coda adds a damn nice touch. Robert Hunter—the band’s newly onboarded songwriter—was present on this night and when the band played Alligator, he got to hear some of his lyrics made flesh by the Grateful Dead for the first time.

This Rio Nido recording represents a key historical document in the Dead’s development. The gig comes at a time when Owsley was taking a break from his role as the Dead’s soundman, directing his focus toward other endeavors, like “lab” work. Based on this scenario, we’re quite lucky to have these soundboard relics at our listening disposal. Most of the tape record during Bear’s hiatus are shows haphazardly captured by other anonymous tapers. For instance, the earliest Dead field tapes (e.g., 1/27/67 and 9/15/67), are of mediocre quality and reserved for fanatical Dead freaks only. That said, in a year full of misdated shows and questionable tapes, a 1967 Grateful Dead recording labeled by Bear (who has been proven to be historically accurate and meticulous about his dating) is a real find. Listen up.

Owsley soundboard