It’s hard to describe how beautiful Golden Gate Park is in the daytime and it’s even harder to put into words how gorgeous it is at night. The old eucalyptus trees give the park an ancient feel, as if the spirits are at play and we are just visitors in their house. From the iridescent bark of the trees to the dark blue of the light-infused night sky, the park provided the tapestry that Furthur draped their headlining set across. In a triumphant return to the park for the first time since 1991, the surviving members of the Grateful Dead invoked the spirit of another era. This wasn’t the ghost of the sixties, this was the spirit of the old world.
The crowd lit up into cheers as the band walked on and picked up where they left off nineteen years ago. Of course, many things have changed but the music never stops. After exchanging a few pre-show words and the wicked grins of a gang of pranksters at the scene of a crime, the first notes began to drift out into the enthusiastic crowd. A brief, instrumental jam rolled around with each member testing the water while Bob wrestled with Pinkie, his trusty Modulus that has stayed around since the eighties. With Weir finally situated, the band stepped up and JK ripped out the first notes of “Cassidy” and the set began
As the band found their feet, with Kadlecik’s solos winding and twisting around Russo’s drums and Phil dropping bombs off onto the crowd, the crowd started yelling for more. The chorus rose in intensity as the bridge came up and the sound washed over the fans. As the song came to a close, Bob backed off the mic and shot Phil a look that said it all. With a look of concentration, John played the distinctive opening notes of what turned out to be a tasty “Loser”. Lacking the majesty of the Cornell ‘77 version or the jazzy explorations of ‘73, the band supplanted tight rhythmic work and a sense of pacing that was often missing from the Grateful Dead. No one has ever accused the Grateful Dead of being tight but Furthur has upped the ante. You can tell this incarnation rehearses and takes pride in being note-perfect and on cue. After the skyrocketing solos and the desperate bandit lyrics of a crowd favorite had started to dissolve, Bob strummed the opening chords of “Let It Grow”, the closing part of his 73’ epic, “Weather Report Suite”. The dynamic give and take of the guitars and keyboards put an exclamation point on the opening of the set and as the sun went down, the crowd took a breath as the opening sounds of the next song started to prod people’s consciousness. I saw many confused looks and muffled exclamations from the non-Deadhead contingent. “ Is that what I think it is?”, “Are they really about to play...”, and yes, they were about to play it. “Time” by Pink Floyd was announced with the traditional clock sound effects and heavy synth washes from the album version. The band kept the show at a slow boil with the dramatic, “Death Don’t Have No Mercy”, quite a pleasant surprise for many old heads. The calypso stomp of “Fire on the Mountain” was followed by the psychedelic jam of the “The Other One” and “The Eleven.”
When the psychedelic fireworks had died down, the opening strains of the the classic “Lady With a Fan” pulled a scream of recognition out of the fans. The boys played the whole Terrapin Station suite and the peaks of the previous songs became stepping-stones onto a whole other level of group mind. The Lesh-penned classic,” Unbroken Chain” proved that Phil can still provide vocal magic, as well as the bottom end. Even with all the fireworks that had happened the crowd erupted with recognition of this relative rarity. Following in the footsteps of early gems like “Death Don’t Have No Mercy” came the apocalyptic show stopper,” Morning Dew”.
After such a raucous set, the only fitting end was the old folk song-turned-rock singalong, “I Know You Rider”. With the set coming to an end, the band pulled out all the stops for a balls to the wall rock out. John’s probing solos wound and climbed amongst the trees and out into the fog. The magical trees were bathed in colored light and even the clouds of fog over the meadow were being lit in a joyous celebration of the return of the dead. It was an amazing night and as Phil reminded everyone to help save a life and sign up to be an organ donor, the crowd streamed out of the park and into a neighborhood that only had a hint of the amazing night that everyone had just witnessed. There is nothing quite like being able to walk to a show and as I walked the nine blocks home, I was giddy with the amazing show the boys had just put on. I was excited with the promise of the next day and completely satisfied with the showing the boys had made for themselves. I have only the highest praise for the producers of the festival. With a solid history of blowing the big ones with the Grateful Dead, Furthur nailed this one to the wall and showed once again why the remain relevant to so many generations.
The crowd lit up into cheers as the band walked on and picked up where they left off nineteen years ago. Of course, many things have changed but the music never stops. After exchanging a few pre-show words and the wicked grins of a gang of pranksters at the scene of a crime, the first notes began to drift out into the enthusiastic crowd. A brief, instrumental jam rolled around with each member testing the water while Bob wrestled with Pinkie, his trusty Modulus that has stayed around since the eighties. With Weir finally situated, the band stepped up and JK ripped out the first notes of “Cassidy” and the set began
As the band found their feet, with Kadlecik’s solos winding and twisting around Russo’s drums and Phil dropping bombs off onto the crowd, the crowd started yelling for more. The chorus rose in intensity as the bridge came up and the sound washed over the fans. As the song came to a close, Bob backed off the mic and shot Phil a look that said it all. With a look of concentration, John played the distinctive opening notes of what turned out to be a tasty “Loser”. Lacking the majesty of the Cornell ‘77 version or the jazzy explorations of ‘73, the band supplanted tight rhythmic work and a sense of pacing that was often missing from the Grateful Dead. No one has ever accused the Grateful Dead of being tight but Furthur has upped the ante. You can tell this incarnation rehearses and takes pride in being note-perfect and on cue. After the skyrocketing solos and the desperate bandit lyrics of a crowd favorite had started to dissolve, Bob strummed the opening chords of “Let It Grow”, the closing part of his 73’ epic, “Weather Report Suite”. The dynamic give and take of the guitars and keyboards put an exclamation point on the opening of the set and as the sun went down, the crowd took a breath as the opening sounds of the next song started to prod people’s consciousness. I saw many confused looks and muffled exclamations from the non-Deadhead contingent. “ Is that what I think it is?”, “Are they really about to play...”, and yes, they were about to play it. “Time” by Pink Floyd was announced with the traditional clock sound effects and heavy synth washes from the album version. The band kept the show at a slow boil with the dramatic, “Death Don’t Have No Mercy”, quite a pleasant surprise for many old heads. The calypso stomp of “Fire on the Mountain” was followed by the psychedelic jam of the “The Other One” and “The Eleven.”
When the psychedelic fireworks had died down, the opening strains of the the classic “Lady With a Fan” pulled a scream of recognition out of the fans. The boys played the whole Terrapin Station suite and the peaks of the previous songs became stepping-stones onto a whole other level of group mind. The Lesh-penned classic,” Unbroken Chain” proved that Phil can still provide vocal magic, as well as the bottom end. Even with all the fireworks that had happened the crowd erupted with recognition of this relative rarity. Following in the footsteps of early gems like “Death Don’t Have No Mercy” came the apocalyptic show stopper,” Morning Dew”.
After such a raucous set, the only fitting end was the old folk song-turned-rock singalong, “I Know You Rider”. With the set coming to an end, the band pulled out all the stops for a balls to the wall rock out. John’s probing solos wound and climbed amongst the trees and out into the fog. The magical trees were bathed in colored light and even the clouds of fog over the meadow were being lit in a joyous celebration of the return of the dead. It was an amazing night and as Phil reminded everyone to help save a life and sign up to be an organ donor, the crowd streamed out of the park and into a neighborhood that only had a hint of the amazing night that everyone had just witnessed. There is nothing quite like being able to walk to a show and as I walked the nine blocks home, I was giddy with the amazing show the boys had just put on. I was excited with the promise of the next day and completely satisfied with the showing the boys had made for themselves. I have only the highest praise for the producers of the festival. With a solid history of blowing the big ones with the Grateful Dead, Furthur nailed this one to the wall and showed once again why the remain relevant to so many generations.
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