D for the Dead

And D is for Dead and the Dead were dead as a doornail. And D is for Danny Fields and he’s the one who first gave them the D, they were bound to get one sooner or later and it was bound to be fitting when you consider them and the fourth letter of the alphabet having been stablemates all along. But who would’ve expected it to be at their triumphal first nite at Manhattan Center in New York, the Dead’s honorary home? Not me, I didn’t expect it, neither did Creem’s own Dave Marsh, who was on hand at the close of his tour of New York. But D is what they got, not an F, not a D-, not a D+, but a D on the nose'

Howard Stein the promoter sold 1000 more tickets than there was standing room for, 6000 instead of 5000. Stand was what was supposed to be good about it, standing meaning dancing and it was called a Marathon Dance anyway and the Dead are well known marathon musicians so it lopked pretty good. And it started at 8 and as things looked it seemed destined to continue until 2. And since an estimate of 2 with the Dead usually means 4 it was gonna be an 8-hr show. But it was over by 1:20, totaling out a playing time of only 5 :20, the skimpiest they’ve done in 6 yrs.

But time is just time, playing and singing are a different matter. They don’t have Micky Hart anymore and \ ' 1 ' they didn’t have him at Manhattan Center. Micky Hart’s not that essential unless you want them to have two drummers and the only reason they needed two drummers was they sounded better that way. Sometimes sound is important, the only time it’s not is when you’re taking a piss and even then if there were no sound you’d have to take a look to make sure you were really pissing. And the sound at Manhattan Center was so bad that the audience was able to overwhelm the band without even trying. And it wasn’t even yelling like at a Stones conpert but just a lot of clapping of the old palms and fingers. Like a jazz event with tons of respect for all the musicianship. But the clapping was so unrelated to the beat that it was like a constant haze of’ insect noise interfering with the beat of the band. And the beat of the band wasn’t even outasite even when the crowd shut up their hands, the drum was so underamplified that you might’ve fhistaken them for Hie pre-electric Dylan.

Or the Kingston Trio. Like their “Truckin’’ is nothing if not the Kingston Trio version of “Dancin’ in the Streets,” never one of their best but at least one of their ones. This wasn’t one of their ones, it wasn’t them. But it was. It was them so they had to take the rap for their own swill. Like doing “Me and Bobby McGhee” with Bob Weir letting his hair down a la Janis. But not just any Janis, it was the Janie of long ago in the vicinity of Monterey. He bellowed a lot and it got a big response but anything would have got a big response too.

Cause the audience was that way. And they were made upi of lots of 15 yr. olds and greasers but the more passive^ of both. Guys were walking around sellipg downs' and offering a free hit of clean watdr from downstairs in the bathroom. Things were so crowded that there was no movement except during intermission and during intermission a whole pack of people from the front muscled their way up to the john and the water fountain and the 50c soda' concession but even then it was hard to move in either direction (there were only two, up front or towards the back and it’s a block from Madison Square Garden) whenever the guys walking one way ran into the guys walking the other way. But walking isn’t what it was and it sure wasn’t truckin’ either. It was bulling and bulldozing and elbows were the best weapon but even with an elbow and six pals pushin’ behind you it was still difficult getting even 2/3 of the way up to the front so you could hear something for god’s sake. .'

And what was there to hear? New Riders? 1^ was to hear but what( was there to hear in it? Music? Yeah but so what. Pebple’s music? Yeah but so what? Wasn’t any high energy or even 3/4 energy so why bother unless you just couldn’t move? And then when the Dead proper got up there it became a matter of patience. You hadda have the patience and a prayer that they’d get good after another 3-4 songs but things started dragging.

They did about 42 consecutive songs that even Lisa Robinson didn’t know the name of and Garcia was pretty busy looking at his feet thru his Toby Mamis beard. Lesh had his shortest hair ever on and he was busy hiding behind Bill the drummermost of the time. The only time he came out front was when he had to sing. Did I say sing? I mean when they opened their mouths and screeched their famous harmonies and then finally they went into “Saint Stephen”, people were busy waiting and time was a-wasting so they finally did it,

But they didn’t even do it just yet. Before that they had Pigpen do Oits’ immortal “Too Hot to Handle” in his finest soulsmanship finery. He’s never been this skinny before and his acne has all but disappeared and the little girlies up on stage were knocked out by his excellence. They would of beep knocked prone but there was no room. Well, anyway, he’s in a class by himself except for two other people, Mae West and Stepin Fetchitt. Mae’s famous you’ll remember for being a woman impersonating a woman and Stepin likewise for being Afroid and impersonating Afroidness. Pig is a punk impersonating a punk and since he’s a punk he’s the punkiest of the trio and since he’s the punkiest of the trio he’s number three out of the three (one is the highest). His head moves and tambourine improvisations alone would be enough to earn him that honor but the band he’s in helps too. They’re ALL PUNKS when you get down to it and at dance-o-thons all you can possibly do is get down even though there’s, no room. “Kick Out the Jams” was never more relevant, not even , enough room to get down to getting down so all you could do was either be patient or suffer or get into a fight and there were no fights (not one). That’s the plot, if everybody’s on acid and smoking joints all you need is not enough room for anybody to breathe and everything’ll work out all right. That’s what happened, the proof is unquestionable so it’s true.

So they’re all punks when you get down to it and here’s why: well whenever they tried their hat at R&B it was laden with too much tolerance for diverse shit in the strummin and the pickin. Garcia played his axe like a second drum but when it wasn’t a drum it was a lute or a mandolin and it wasn’t even a la Ry Cooder, just a la A1 Caiola or Tony Mottolla or Chet Atkins. And there wasn’t no organ or, keyboard of any kind because they won’t entrust that to Pigpen anymore so why do they keep the slob? Tolerance for Pigpen is okay but not tolerance for guys who don’t know that R&B means discrimination and rigidity. What do these guys think they’re doing, they weren’t even wearing tie-dyeds?

But before they even did 1 “Saint-Stephen” they did an intro that nbbody even knew was an intro, they just thought it was one more patience-challenging goddam motherfuckin’ ballad. And it was the ballad that that Okie was singing in Grapes of Wrath (the movie not the book because if it was in the book nobody’d know where they got it from.)' about “I ain’t gonna be treated this-a way.” They were doing (hat for minutes and minutes and finally they plopped the whole thing right into “Saint Stephen” and not a second to lose either. If they had waited nobody coulda cared anymore.

That doesn’t mean nobody coulda, cared because at Woodstock there were at all times at least 40,000 people Cheering their condoms off for whoever was up there at the time, even the Swami and even Sweetwater or Bert Sommer. But there wouldn’t have been cheering where I was standing because all around me were impatient people and their patience was tiring. So they finally did “Saint Stephen” and then they got to the part where they plunge into the big thing in thev middle from off the Live Dead album and it was a good plunge and also because it was the first real plunge of the nite. But plunge they did even though the energy dissipated less than. 20 seconds later and THEY DIDN’T EVEN PLAY AN ENCORE. First time they didn’t play an encore since they got bdoed off the stage in merry old England the time they went on before Mungo Jerry. And they didn’t play an encore of their own choosing.

Which means they chose not to do an encore. Which means they were aware of a thing or two such as the fact that they were playing bad. And more than 50 times the reason they were playing bad was by choice too. You could tell because they’d get something going and then drop it. Was it that they hated New York? No because they don’t have any hate in their hearts as the lyrics of “Uncle John’s Band” will tell you (“There’s no time to hate, barely time to wait”). So here’s what the lowdown is on their awful heinous performance before six thousand screaming applauding wild maniacs of the Woodstock Nation (also known as Alia Nation): INTENTIONAL BUMMER.

They did an intentional bummer because there was nothing left for them to do because they had already played good quality music for all their CSNY hearts and souls were worth, they Had gone beyond music to the living ozone of the pancreaS and even beyond that, they had forged their way beside many a tunesmith of the cosmos and much, much more. So they had to throw down their shields and live up to their reps as gurus. Gurus often do things like shock their followers by obliterating expectations, it apparently teaches detachment. Detachment is even more important than getting laid so that’s exactly what they did: But nobody was shocked. So it all fit.

Next time they can’t get Central Parjc for a Be-In maybe they’ll get Manhattan Center, am additional 3000 could have been housed with little or no difficulty. But if there’s entertainment they oughta bring some stilts. If they wanna see anything. Tall people had such an advantage that their advantage made them elitists. But since it’s congenital (being tall) they can in no way be held responsible before any revolutionary tribunal. And the Dead better get smart and play on a stage that’s just as crowded, who are they to get all that space to themselves?

And after they get rid of Pigpen and make him their personal valet or keeper of the picks and strings they’ll just be a 4-man band. So what they oughta do then is change their name to the Beatles, to the best of my knowledge the name has never been patented.

R. Christgau