Grateful Dead—Hill Auditorium, Ann Arbor, MI, December 15, 1971
The period from October through December of 1971 was, for many years, the best-documented run in the Grateful Dead's history. The fall tour produced 15 live broadcasts of complete concerts across the country. The shows, airing on local radio stations, provided burgeoning tapers with a rich supply of high-quality tapes that featured the addition of pianist Keith Godchaux and a rollicking new sound and direction for the band. If you're looking for a singular recording from late ‘71 that is telling of the new direction the Dead were heading, the second performance of the two-night stand at the 4100-seat U of Michigan’s Hill Auditorium is a worthy candidate. Pigpen is back in the fold nestled behind his trusty B3 organ, and his faithful rendering of old roots songs (and newly penned numbers like Mr. Charlie) fit right in with the Dead's new sound. Pig's two-month hiatus has allowed Keith some time to meld with the band, and his playing on this evening in Ann Arbor sounds as though he's fully settled into his role.
Before venturing into this performance though, there's a backstory about the FM radio aspect of the tour that needs to get unpacked a bit. By 1971, the Grateful Dead had accumulated a fair amount of leverage with their label, Warner Brothers Records. They had back-to-back hit albums, steadily rising concert receipts, and had also garnered a good deal of press since the release of Live Dead. Just before the fall run of shows, the band told Warners that they wanted to release another double live album. The band had been considering the idea of another live LP since late 1970. In preparation, they taped shows during the spring tour—which included two performances at the Manhattan Center, the April run at the Fillmore East, and a benefit gig for Yogi Bhajan at Winterland in March. By September, they had 9 shows worth of live material for the album, a cover (a version of a Stanley Mouse skeleton-and-roses poster from 1966), and a proposal for a nifty name: "Skullfuck." Not surprisingly, Joe Smith and Warner Brothers were completely against such a title gracing the record, claiming that stores—including one of their biggest distributors Sears & Roebuck—would never stock an album bearing that heading. Warners said they were happy to release the live double set with one caveat: the album was to be renamed the "Grateful Dead." The band said they would meet Warner's request, provided they give them something in return. The tradeoff was perfect and came in the form of Smith doling out $100,000 for live radio broadcasts as part of the promotional budget. As for the album, it was released that October to very positive reviews. It would go on to become the Dead's first gold record, but that's a tale for another time.
The Hill Auditorium soundboard tape cuts in at the end of Sam Cutler's band introductions. After some cursory tuning and a small helping of amusing stage chatter, the show kicks off with Bertha. The boys are completely on fire from the first note with Jerry and Keith both prominent in the mix. Me & Bobby McGee is next and features a faultless coupling of Weir's vocals and Garcia's resonant guitar licks. The remainder of the first set is as compelling and all the tunes are performed tightly, even though many are still in their developing form. Of note are the China Cat > I Know You Rider pairing—which includes an excellent layered jam during the bridge, a goddamn gorgeous Brokedown Palace, and an early 6 ½-minute take on Playing in the Band that foreshadows the exploratory directions the song will take on in the months ahead when the Main Ten thematic undercurrent will no longer be left unrestrained.
The second frame opens with a brilliant Dark Star that exceeds the relative obscurity of its character and reputation. The music starts quietly with a ten-minute intro jam that flows intuitively. Lesh soon finds a groove and the others closely follow him, seizing on the slightest hint to change direction and explore a new theme. In time, Jerry leads the ensemble into a quiet space and then pushes them into a jam that builds to a loud, penetrating climax. The momentum gradually unwinds and drops into a rhythm that appears like it's heading for The Other One. Garcia has different ideas though and, in an instant, switches to the Dark Star theme. After the opening verse, a quiet, unadorned space opens up. Phil soon begins to assault the auditorium crowd with some booming riffs that pave the way for two atonal jams, before devolving into a deep abyss. Jerry emerges from the void and begins to play with a new idea, while Kreutzmann, Weir, Lesh, and Godchaux piece together an odd, lounge-style instrumental. Once the band has eased into this new thematic fold, they play it at length, until it slowly dissipates and transforms into a more vigorous, driving jam. And, just like that, Garcia vaults right into a honky-tonk version of Deal, which is both insistent and a textbook vehicle for the boys to strut their rock n' roll chops. The show charges along bringing Pigpen into the spotlight with a romp through Turn On Your Lovelight. Tonight's take on the Bobby Bland R&B number includes a unique embedded King Bee/Mannish Boy section, before transitioning back to Lovelight proper. This rare late '71 Lovelight with the Pigger back in form is a real pleasure.
The cross-country FM extravaganza of 1971 was, like many things Grateful Dead, a hip idea that was way ahead of its time. There were nights when the Dead and the New Riders dominated the airwaves for 4-5 hours. If live radio broadcasts had become the norm before the release of every Grateful Dead album, fans and tapers would have eaten that up. Unfortunately, this was not to be and by the time their next release—the much-celebrated Europe 72—hit the shelves, the band was moving on from Warners. The experiment was over. Even so, it was a unique idea that surely reaped benefits for the Dead for many years.