1980 Dead: On the Cusp (again)

Every year for the 30-year history of the Grateful Dead’s touring history is a year of transition. You could calmly and sanely assert that 1972 is a transition year. And so are 1973 and 1974, it could easily be argued. 1971 and 1977 are transition years, too. Oh, but 1970, what a year of transition that was. And 87 and 90, too, man. And you could keep going for hours, debating how each year is a year of transition.

Blindfold a Dead aficionado and put on a recording from just about any show and they will easily  be able to tell the vintage of the show. Because each of these years of transition is so marked, so inherently different from the other years of transition. Because they’re all years of transition with wild change, exploration. Each song takes on a new life depending on the year, the show, the synergy with the audience, which is why I can’t get my hands on enough Dead show recordings. So, I picked up Dave’s Picks Volume 8 from 11/30/1980 from the Fox Theater in Atlanta, and we find the Dead in fine form.

In 1980, the Dead are really on the cusp. Once again, they're just always on the cusp of something great because they’re always in transition, never afraid of changing and digging deeper and going further. It’s what’s missing, what would send them to the other side of the cusp, that makes the journey worth it for the Dead. And makes collecting the next show so worth it.

1980 Dead

1980 is a vintage that I wanted in my collection and this show is a fine representation of that year. I had to get my hands on some 1980 Dead because my old Dead Set CD wore out from playing it so much.

I also had a theory about 1980 that I wanted to test out. I like all eras of the Dead but I definitely lean toward that magic window of 1972-74 as my preferred era. Even still, Brent has the most technical chops of the Dead keyboardists (if we’re not including Bruce, who most Deadheads seem to ignore when considering this question) and his tenure during the 80s is outstanding. But while Brent has the most chops, both on keys and certainly as background vocalist, with his harmonies much cleaner than those of Donna, what I don’t like about the Brent years is that there’s just a bit too much Brent. What was great about Keith, and is probably the reason I like 72-74 as my favorite years, is that he knew how to get out of the way. Keith’s magic was in the understatement. While Brent’s essence is the overstatement. When Keith is on, he’s brilliant. But he never dominates. Brent, particularly in the late 80s, is consistently brilliant but dominates to the point that we don’t hear the magic from the other guys in the band. In fact, in many instances, Brent must be covering up for Jerry and the rest of the boys’ bad nights.

A young Brent Mydland on the keys

But here’s my theory: In 1980, Brent was still the new keyboardist and he was still unsure of himself and he didn’t drown out the other members of the band with the brash 1980s sound of his synthesizer sounds, which every once in a while are titillating, but too often are just plain cheesy. I base my theory also on Dick’s Picks 5 from 12/26/79 Oakland, which has some outstanding playing by Brent but nothing in which he dominates too much.

Despite the fact that every year is different, there is one overarching thesis behind the music of the Grateful Dead: A Rainbow of Sound. In 1980, Brent takes the baton from another great piano player and continues this musical mission. And indeed, he adds his own very unique textures to The Rainbow of Sound. And I don’t mean to take away from his brilliance by noting his tendency toward cheesiness because the Rainbow of Sound is very much alive on this recording, and Brent is a big part of this colorful sound that we love about the Dead.

1980 Garcia with Tiger. He got really good sounds with this guitar

There  was another reason I picked up 11-30-1980. The setlist. There were a couple of songs that were a bit lacking in my collection--a “Saint of Circumstance,” the promise of a truly exploratory post-hiatus “Playing in the Band,” a “Bird Song” (always one of my favorites), an extraordinary “Scarlet Begonias-->Fire on the Mountain,” which does really cook and is different but stands up to the 77 versions of this mammoth combination of songs. Jerry's playing is really sizzling. But what stuck out, besides the songs I wanted, were the little details. One of the best versions that I know of “Little Red Rooster.” “Feel Like a Stranger” has an extended and very worthy Jerry solo. A tender but powerful “Loser.” “Ship of Fools” has never been performed with such vigor, such tenderness and depth--really enjoyed that one. Another standout is the as-advertised “era-defining ‘Deal.’” The first set clocks in at 100 minutes; “[F]ast or slow, Jerry or Bob, routine or rare: they nail them all.”

My personal favorite from the recording is “The Wheel,” which is one of the slower versions I’ve heard and it’s very serene, calm and uplifting and profound at the same time. Definitely worth having in your collection if you’re a fan of The Wheel. There’s a moment at the end where it sounds like they’re going to transition into Playing, but we go straight into China Doll. (The setlist is not unlike that of Dick’s Picks vol. 29 (May 19th, 1977, also from the Fox Theater.) It’s funny to hear this hesitation, the reluctance between the players--the drummers are off for the Playing segue but Jerry takes it back down to China Doll. Here, we know the band is just really making it up as they go. It truly is fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants music. Totally unplanned. Seemingly unorganized, yet still it has its own system and the parts fit very well when it all works itself out. And certainly there are musical blunders by our heroes in this recording. But that’s the inherent risk of making music as you go, literally composing a new song every night.

Flawless this show is not but good and worthy it most definitely is.

The sound must also be commented. The Matrix recording--a blend of a Dan Healy soundboard and a Bob Wagner audience tape--sound makes for an imperfect yet warm sound. Big, meaty, spacey, deep, like being stuck in a deep forest with a pagan ritual going on. I’ve been listening to too many (not enough) perfect soundboards lately, so it was nice to hear a more ragged recording but with a deeper verosimilitud.

During the transition from “Space” to “The Wheel,” you can actually hear someone in the crowd quietly ask, “What song is this?” There are a couple of other moments in which we are very close to the intimate conversations that those people around the recording device are having. And these interruptions do not take away from the recording. In fact, they make it more real and more warm. The crowd’s energy is well integrated into the sound of the music. There are certainly imperfections in the recording but these imperfections give it life.

(Another added bonus are the liner notes by Nick Paumgarten, whose New Yorker piece on the Dead is about as canonical as a 2/13/1970 “Dark Star.” Worth checking out.)

I've always loved how the Dead had Oriental rugs on stage, making for a loose atmosphere. It was like they were playing in their own living room

As always for the Dead, the beauty is in the paradox. The imperfection makes for perfect listening. Their playing is serious fun. When they are really tight, telepathically playing each note as if it’s their last, there is a looseness that holds them together. Each individual part is so good that it makes the collective that much better than the sum of all the parts. We're in the meat here for the Dead--they're not in their wild youth of the 60s and early 70s, and they've most definitely hit their stride, but they haven't yet taken that stride for granted. And there’s just enough Brent to keep it very colorful but not too much that we lose what's good about the Dead: the Dead.