March 24, 1968: Fountain Street Church, Grand Rapids, MI

Adults Relent

CHURCH HOSTS GRATEFUL DEAD

When the Tower Club, the young peoples' organization at Fountain Street Church, suggested a concert by The Grateful Dead, adult members of the congregation balked. The "psychedelic" rock group had been involved in a drug arrest and the five members of the group looked like hippies. 

Which they are and which prompted the adult Education Committee at Fountain Street to take another look. The Grateful Dead, after all, represented what their current series of programs was all about - an attempt at understanding the way-out philosophy of some of the younger generation. 

So, The Grateful Dead will appear at Fountain Street after all. 

The date is Sunday, March 24. The time is 7:30 p.m. 

"We have been attempting to understand this hippie culture," a spokesman for the Adult Education Committee explained. "Unless we experience some of the reactions of the young, we can't very well understand or, at least, try to understand it." 

First of the three-part "understanding process" was a lecture by Sue Carlson of San Francisco, who works with San Francisco groups. Following the Grateful Dead will be William Zinsswer, author and social observer, who will discuss the impact of the philosophies of the unusual groups cropping up in society. 

As to the wild-looking bunch of musicians with the strange name, the Fountain Street committee reports that a program of "blues-oriented" music is expected, complete with a light show. That's an arrangement of different-colored, movable lights that are "played" with the music and swung around among the audience to get everyone completely involved in the goings on. 

"In dealing with these boys (the musicians) in arranging for their appearance, we've found them rather nice," said the Adult Committee spokesman. "They do concerts for nothing, just for the good feeling of bringing joy to people, I guess. They even offered to come here for nothing." 

They won't have to, however. The church group will pay them whatever is part of what is collected from the $2 admission fees. Tickets are available at the church, Dodds Record Shop, Sinfornia Record Shop, Posteria, and Grand Rapids Junior College. 

The adults at the church also have been placated a bit by the group's recent public denouncement of the use of drugs, which the musicians have decided "is not the answer." 

(from the Grand Rapids Press, March 10, 1968, p.34)

Thanks to jgmf.blogspot.com 

The Dead did not play. Per McNally: 

"The Dead went off on a logistically ridiculous and not entirely atypical road trip, flying all the way to Detroit for two shows with Eric Burdon and the Animals at the State Fair Coliseum. Their schedule then called for them to play a benefit in Grand Rapids, where the organizer was Rock [Scully]'s brother Dicken's girlfriend's mother, and then go home. In Detroit it snowed fourteen inches, and the benefit was canceled. The lovely poster, which was a drawing of Pigpen with angel's wings, was the only evidence of the dream." (p.257)

On March 24, the Dead were back in sunny San Francisco, Jerry Garcia jammed with Traffic, and the snows of Michigan were left behind.

1968: Anthem of the Sun review

FLAWS FOUND IN DEAD'S NEWEST ALBUM

Despite their overwhelming array of talent, their magnificent percussion, their searing guitar riffs, and their unfailing power to excite, the Grateful Dead are flawed, specifically these three ways: 1) their attempts to construct any viable blues vocals consistently fail; 2) they have a mysterious and irritatingly unnecessary preoccupation with electronics; and 3) their scope of material is limited, sometimes severely so. 

The group's second album, Anthem of the Sun, incorporates all these shortcomings - each in a different tone. As for the first, its truth is essentially admitted outright, thus clarifying much of the late controversy over Pig Pen's voice. (Actually, many Dead freaks have for some time recognized his lackluster blues efforts. "Schoolgirl" is an old example.) But there is now a new development. Anthem makes no attempt to sing honest blues; instead, it employs a semi-comic approach that is seemingly indicative of the group's realization that they perform the art poorly. Alligator's vocal section best exemplifies this: the minimum frame of a Southern accent is present, but both the lyric itself - "creepy alligator, comin round the bend" and its musical contest - kazoos, an erratically thumping rhythm section, etc., are so humorous that the listener can do little more than laugh along. 

Because the Dead are basically a musicians' band, this flaw is trifling, but their electronics are not. They are superfluous. Electronics can be a legitimate vehicle, but not without intensely focused imagination, tedious studio labor, and an appropriate mood - this last being an admittedly nebulous concept. (A model synthesis of these elements is Lennon-McCartney's "Tomorrow Never Knows.") But the Dead are in a different vein; they work with electronics live, wielding amplification units as improvised instruments, producing droning, irrelevant passages that bore to frustration. Often, they will precede a blues classic like Bland's "Lovelight" with 10 to 15 minutes of this. The question is: why? Why give us, between the first and second cuts on Anthem's A side, a combination of SAC bombing runs and the bell tower of Notre Dame? 

The third problem - a narrow scope of material - strikes hard at the perennial fan. One tires, eventually, of hearing "Schoolgirl," "Morning Dew," and "Lovelight" each time the Dead appear; enjoyable as these songs are, some fresh ones are needed; Anthem supplies the long-awaited new works, some of them seemingly incongruous. Because they project, like the Rolling Stones, a harshly masculine image, the Dear [sic] appear rather silly singing a soft, sensual ballad like "That's It for the Other One" - in concept. In actual performance they are so exquisite that all thoughts of incongruity fade. Garcia's lovely, mournful vocal projects a mood of prayerful solemnity that is simply overpowering. 

What about good old Grateful Dead hard rock? Anthem gives us some, but rather grumpily, as if it doesn't deserve much exposure. "The Faster We Go the Rounder We Get" is an example: the cut is unwaveringly strong, thrashing out in the fashion we've come to expect from the Dead, but is disappointingly short. Garcia's guitar is taped at a nearly inaudible level, while the rhythm section steals the scene. This is both tragic and not: it does succeed in displaying the band's new drummer, Mick Hart, schooled in Eastern technique and a former student of Ali Akbar Khan. Making heavy use of the snare, he effects a quasi-military beat that, coupled with Kreutzmann, composes a percussion unit an experience unto itself. Everyone finally merges on the live portion of Alligator to produce an amazingly truthful reproduction of what the Dead are when they peel off their facade: the most exhilarating musical event in San Francisco - and maybe anywhere. 

(by Raymond Lang, from the Daily Californian, November 1, 1968)

Lang also reviewed Live/Dead with much more enthusiasm: 

Grateful Dead Sources: 1969: Live/Dead Reviews #2 

See also: 

Grateful Dead Sources: 1968: More Anthem of the Sun Reviews 

November 7-10, 1968: Fillmore West, San Francisco

RECORD STUDIOS MAY DESTROY MUSIC SCENE

If anything destroys the San Francisco music scene, it will probably be the recording studios. While some groups benefit from techniques first used in a recording studio - enhancing their live sets - most groups with less musical direction come out suffering from over-production and a deficiency of style. 

A comparison can be made in this regard between the Quicksilver Messenger Service and the Grateful Dead, who performed recently in Fillmore West. 

Quicksilver started out their two fine sets by playing some good and tough rock numbers (new to me). Duncan played through some fine guitar leads, very reminiscent of Bloomfield. The group has been criticized for being overly-influenced by the Electric Flag in their last album (in light of the fact that two Flag members co-produced it). But it would be tragic if a band which has been around as long as Quicksilver was influenced by a short-lived band that never developed any musical direction. 

Let us say that Duncan's and Cipollina's considerable skill cause them to borrow certain stylistic traits of Bloomfield, as well as Alkaunon and Garcia. 

Audiences tend to like things that are familiar, and the audience (dead as par) didn't warm up until they played a cut from their album (Gold and Silver). 

Now that the Dead have come to be comfortable in a recording studio, they can use their techniques as good tools in their sets. Their set got the warmest audience reaction. Where Quicksilver tends to be erratic because of problems in accommodating ordered songs to a live set, the Dead seems to have no problems in this regard.

Since "Anthem of the Sun," the Dead have gone into electronic music, using different types of feedback to climax their sets. But they also went through standards like "School Girl" and "Lovelight." 

Quicksilver's Gold and Silver is very carefully composed, and loses its effectiveness if it is not allowed to progress in a linear fashion so the intricately constructed climaxes can be developed. It is therefore, not a free enough cut to be effective in a live set. The best they can do for the number is to try to approach the technical perfection that the audience is familiar with from the album. They try to add interest by including a drum solo, but this only serves to stop the progression altogether. 

As their performance of "Gold and Silver" showed how bad the effects of such studio compositions can be, so their performance of the "Fool" showed a beautiful balance between the composition and the improvisation. With Frieberg's base as a catalyst, there is a very interesting reaction between the two guitars. 

There was a nice progression and use of false climaxes in almost classical style, yet it remained as a free vehicle for Cipollina's guitar leads.

Still, the best song of either set was their old standard "Who do you love?" (rough rock but it has some well-executed composition including some tinkling guitar effects). They rounded out their sets with some album cuts done pretty straight. It was appropriate that they finished off their first set with a Beau Diddley number a la Rolling Stone - "Hey, Mona."

(by Russ Stein, from the Daily Californian, November 25, 1968)

October 20, 1968: Greek Theatre, UC Berkeley

FIVE ROCK GROUPS PLAY HERE SUNDAY

Five of the greatest rock groups in the Bay Area will play at the Greek Theater this Sunday afternoon from 1 to 6 p.m. Canned Heat will head the bill with the Grateful Dead, Mad River, Linn County, and Stonehenge filling out the concert. Buddy Miles Express also will make a probable appearance for a special jam session. 

This is the largest rock "festival" ever held on the campus. Student prices for the concert have been reduced to $3 in advance and $3.50 at the door, instead of the $3.50 and $4 prices previously announced. Student tickets may be picked up at the ASUC box office.

(from the Daily Californian 10/15/68)

OUTSTANDING LOCAL ROCK BANDS PERFORM: 

GRATEFUL DEAD, MAD RIVER, CANNED HEAT

What is considered to be one of the country's finest rock bands will be playing the Greek Theatre Sunday, from 1:00-6:00, accompanied by several other fine groups; the Grateful Dead, faithful to the in life-style, promise to present an afternoon of unusual experiences and irresistible musical power. 

Canned Heat, an L.A. based group with three albums on the Mercury label, will appear, supposedly headlining the show. 

Three groups representative of San Francisco's reinvigorated musical scene will complete the program: Stonehenge, Mad River - a long time Berkeley favorite which has just released its first album on Capitol - and Linn County, originally formed in Chicago, now headquartered in S.F., and soon to begin their second album for Mercury. 

Tickets are on sale now at ASUC box office, and ticket agencies throughout the Bay Area, for $3 in advance and $3.50 at the door.

(from the Daily Californian 10/17/68)

*

ROCK AT YOUR LEISURE

There were a great many people who predicted complete failure for SUPERB's rock concert last Sunday. And in at least one category, they were correct: economically, the show was best left forgotten. In tacit testimony to the intensity of Bay Area audience competition, the Greek Theatre was at no time more than half-filled.

Quantitatively, the show lost that competition; qualitatively, it won. Despite its size, the crowd was a crazily cohesive patchwork of Gypsy Jokers, students, hippies, adults, groupies, animals, street-people, children, and musicians, all happily cavorting under a warm, glass-clear sky. In contrast to the city's ballrooms, those who so chose, danced all day long. Weed, of course, flowed freely through the ampitheatre, doing its substantial share of creating a picnic atmosphere. 

Although they were making little money, the musicians obviously enjoyed working in such a climate, thereby constructing a very loose, casual audience-performer communication. The first band to play, after an exasperating delay of nearly an hour, was Stonehenge: a trio from Palo Alto, their music is much in Cream's vein, complete with a rather tiring, Clapton-based lead guitarist, who is forced to compete against his over-volumed rhythm section. They are mildly enjoyable, but essentially undistinguished, brand of hard rock. 

Linn County, formed in Chicago, now San Francisco-based, were next. Their album will be reviewed next week: it is sufficient to say here that they are one of the very best reasons why this area is still a musical stronghold. All those who admire professional ability should see them soon - they're just beginning to climb.

The process of a concert's development is always fascinating; as each successive band appears, the audience warms with increased familiarity and enthusiasm. When established Berkeley favorite Mad River stepped onto stage, they received noisy welcome from their faithful; when they introduced their first song as "just good old-fashioned Mad River rock and roll," a good throng rose to dance. The show was gaining momentum. Their music is unquestionably rock, which they play in an exciting, very speedy style that falters only when the band becomes a dime-bag too eager. Of all surprises, their math duplication happens strongest in Amphetamine Gazelle, a number so quick it seemed to set Greek on a turntable - at 78 rpm. 

In typical fashion, nearly late, generally disorganized, but clearly undaunted, the Grateful Dead managed to arrive. Once set up, they proceeded to play a stormburst of music in their hardest fashion.

(by Raymond Lang, from the Daily Californian, October 25, 1968)

https://archive.org/details/gd68-10-20.sbd.miller.21441.sbeok.shnf

March 24, 1968: Parking Lot near 50 Green Street, San Francisco

STRIKE, THE PARK AND OTHER THINGS

Indigent rock music enthusiasts, barred from the $3 ballrooms, need not be left out in the cold on weekends these days. For the price of bus fare or just the energy consumed making it by foot to Golden Gate Park and other areas, a pleasant Saturday or Sunday afternoon of music is guaranteed at an inexpensive tab. 

The radio KMPX strike, which has sent everything from DJs to janitor to the street with picket signs, has brought both local bands and those from afar to their side with sympathy. As a result the KMPX picketeers have put together some fantastic street scenes to promote their walk-out and bring new campaigners to their feet. 

A week ago Sunday, for instance, it was one surprise after another around the corner from strike headquarters. It was a perfect afternoon: the sun was throbbing, the beer still cold, and the Sons of Champlin were rocking the stage. Their rhythms were sucking in crowds as if luring them with a siren's call. 

The portable generators which supplied the juice for the afternoon were still humming as the Sons of Champlin silenced the Vox amplification and made their way from the two flat-bed trucks that joined rears and acted as a temporary stage. Their big band rock sound was well taken with a befitting applause.

The crowd edged closer and closer to the stage as a small van pierced a layer of the assemblage [and] dragged out a massive hunk of organ caped with a coverlet inscribed "Stevie Winwood."

It wasn't long before Traffic, the outstanding English trio, was on the stage. Heaven Is In Your Mind started the wheel rolling, and by the time Dear Mr. Fantasy poured forth the crowd seemed overtaken by some strange trance. Drummer Jim Capaldi was drenched with sweat and Winwood's versatility was steaming unbelievably from guitar. 

Traffic didn't give much of a chance for the trance to break as the Grateful Dead's Jerry Garcia climbed the stage, jacked in his guitar (sending Winwood to organ), and an incredible jam session, with as many as eight musicians working out at once, was underway. 

A very short appearance by James Cotton on harmonica and a lengthy and impressive jam featuring guitarist Harvey Mandel with the Indian Head Band concluded one of the most unusual musical experiences this writer has ever witnessed. And it was all for free. 

Lately, each weekend has been graced with free open-air concerts somewhere in the city. Most are in The Park, and as long as the KMPX strike is on, their street scenes will be too. It might be a good idea for enthusiasts to keep eyes pinned to the press and ears to KMPX (but is that in poor taste?) and get in on these things. (The Haight Ashbury Switchboard (387-3575) is usually of reliable assistance.) They can become an experience more unique than the ballrooms themselves.

John Lee Hooker heads the bill at the Carousel this weekend along with Mother Earth and the Loading Zone. Eric Burdon and the Animals, Quicksilver, and the Sons of Champlin are at Winterland, while the Blues Project, Iron Butterfly, and the Nazarra Blues Band play at the Avalon.

(by Martin J. Arbunich, from the Guardsman, April 3, 1968)

See also: 

Lost Live Dead: March 18, 1968: Pier 10, San Francisco-KMPX Strike Rally (also: March 20, 1968 Avalon)

*

March 20, 1968: Avalon Ballroom 

FAR OUT KMPX BENEFIT (excerpt)

9 Long Hair Band Groups 

The Fruminous Bandersnatchers blared many a harmonious musical bar last night in Avalon Ballroom, sounding what may have been the reqiuem of old style strikes and labor negotiations. 

The Bandersnatchers were but one of nine long-hair (not in a musical sense), bearded, and sandal-less instrumental groups playing from 8 p.m. to 2 a.m. for the benefit of striking staff members of KMPX-FM, a local radio station which yanked itself upward via mod music from a practically no-listener rating to the well-to-do status of the paying voice of hippieland. 

Also electronically pulsating for out-of-work KMPXers were Blue Cheer, Charlie Musselwhite Southside Sound System, and the Grateful Dead.

What makes the four day KMPX strike different from other walkouts is that bread (which is pure Haight-Ashbury for money) is secondary in consideration to "artistic freedom." 

Freedom of the arts, according to KMPXers, is their right to ignore company orders about shaving, hair cutting, wearing shoes on the job, and bathing frequently. 

It also embraces ignoring orders to play those saccharine string melodies adored by the squares.

Because of such real and imagined grievances, KMPXers hit the bricks Monday against station owner Lee Crosby . . . 

The strikers are letting it be known that a bit more bread in the pay envelope could be instrumental in coaxing them back to the microphones. They note the highest paid disc jockey in pre-strike days earned but $125 a week. 

Meanwhile, the station hasn't dropped a broadcast bar with employees of square inclinations. [ . . . ]

(by William O'Brien, from the SF Examiner, March 21, 1968) 

Excerpt from the Berkeley Barb, 3/22/68: 

[On March 18] "at 3 a.m. the walk-out began as more than 500 people gathered outside the station at 50 Green Street and danced to rock music. Wednesday night the idea moved inside the Avalon as the Grateful Dead, Kaleidoscope, and others played a benefit to a packed house." 

"Further support from the bands came when Jerry Garcia of the Dead walked into the station and demanded the return of a tape of their new single and also asked that none of the Dead's other material be played on the air."

Excerpts from Rolling Stone: 

"At 3:00 on the morning of Monday, March 18, the entire staff of the nation's best rock & roll station walked out on strike - and right into the midst of an impromptu block party. [ . . . ] 

"The community turned out in force for a benefit at the Avalon Ballroom on March 20, where music was provided gratis by the Grateful Dead, Charley Musselwhite, Kaleidoscope, and three other bands. The Family Dog made the hall available without charge - even the light show was donated - and the strike fund netted $1800. . . .

"There was also a weekend fair (not to be confused with the first-night party of 500 people dancing in the street) outside the KMPX offices near North Beach, which was highlighted by Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead jamming with Traffic. It was supposed to be a street fair, but the San Francisco city fathers refused the strikers a permit, ostensibly because an announcement read over the air before the strike had caused an unauthorized closing of Haight Street two weeks earlier, so the action took place in a nearby parking lot."

[The Grateful Dead and other bands] "requested that KMPX and KPPC do not play their records as long as they are being operated by strikebreakers."

("FM Workers Strike For Rights," Rolling Stone, April 27, 1968) 

December 20, 1968: Shrine Hall, Los Angeles

COUNTRY JOE AND FISH SINK IN SHRINE HALL SHOW

Country Joe and the Fish's set at the Shrine Auditorium Friday night was less fish than flotsam, and the resulting taste of ennui was nearly sour enough to sink the Berkeley group there on the spot. 

In fact, the most remarkable thing about the highly-touted evening were the uninspired, dull performances of the Fish and their Bay Area comrades, the Grateful Dead. 

Only Spirit came up with a completely satisfying effort.

That was sad, as the Fish have shown greatness before - on their first LP and in other live performances, especially at dances in San Francisco's Fillmore and Avalon ballrooms. 

Last weekend, however, they seemed bored and either unwilling or unable to turn the audience on to their highly original brand of psychedelia, politics, and paranoia. 

Leader Country Joe McDonald was a poor voice, yet kept the large crowd spellbound with his rendition of "Crystal Blues." The tune featured a shattering, ferocious guitar interlude with a stand-off between Barry Melton and David Cohen. 

Both instrumentally and vocally, the Fish can - when they're right - stand in the front rank of pop music, with the piercing, staccato guitar of Melton and the driving, heavy guitar and organ of Cohen contributing to the tough cohesiveness of the group.

Although this is so, the Fish have never quite reached the pinnacle of commercial success that has greeted other Bay Area rock groups like the Jefferson Airplane and Big Brother and the Holding Company. 

One reason for this may be the inflexible militancy of the group. They tell it like they see it - through hilarious satire ("Not So Sweet, Martha Lorraine"), outrageous black comedy ("Feel Like I'm Fixin to Die" - about the Vietnam War), and even an occasional four letter word. 

The purpose of this all is to shake their audience, to make them think. Mostly, it's a propaganda music - the group's name comes from a statement by Chairman Mao that peasants are the fish of the world - but beneath it all is an often healthy outrage at what this country has become, in the eyes of Fish leader, Joe McDonald. 

Though most of their performance Friday was fairly pedestrian and sluggish, every now and then the Fish had moments incredibly lyrical and funny enough to infect the most gelid listener. 

The best and most exciting performance at the rock-concert was given by Spirit, a local quintet. The group plays electronic music which slithers off occasionally to show signs of Indian, jazz, and freeform contemporary music. 

The guitar work of Randy California and the drum solos of Ed Cassidy were both innovative, subtle, and interesting, a difficult triad for other rock musicians to aspire for. 

And, happily, there was nothing cold or artsy about their performance. 

The same unfortunately cannot be said for the Grateful Dead, which led off the evening and gave the most disappointing performance of all. 

This means the group wasn't the best performing rock group extant that it can be - only nearly so.

The Dead is a heavy, jazz-blues oriented band (consisting these days of three guitars, organ, two drums, and lead singer). The group's songs are, more often than not, merely convenient hooks on which the Dead hang their usually brilliant improvisations. 

Two of Friday's numbers, however, were long on time (about 20 minutes each) and short on versatility. 

The usually tight, surging, full-bodied Dead sound was sadly missing, although the group's last number, "Turn On Your Lovelight" was generally exciting, except for an embarrassing, misled attempt at soul-singing. 

The funky white blues voice and organ playing of Ron (Pigpen) McKernan, who recently left the group, was sorely missed. 

Despite the paucity of excitement, it should be noted the fault doesn't lie with lead guitarist, Jerry Garcia. 

Always exciting, Garcia is perhaps the best "Live" guitarist around. He is a complete original, and still manages to hint Django Reinhardt, Eric Clapton, and Charlie Christian, while remaining himself. 

With the Airplane and Big Brother, the Fish and the Dead were among the founders of so-called "San Francisco acid-rock." It's unfortunate that neither's music last weekend could do very much to "stone" the Shrine, although the fine light show by Jerry Abrams' Head Lights certainly helped.

Once again, the sound system at the elephantine auditorium made the bands sound like they were playing from the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

(by Michael Ross, from the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, December 24, 1968)

Thanks to jgmf.blogspot.com 

See also: 

Grateful Dead Sources: December 20-21, 1968: Shrine Hall, Los Angeles

https://archive.org/details/gd1968-12-20.sbd.miller.89663.sbeok.flac16

November 28, 1968: Kinetic Playground, Chicago

THE SOUND

Music and radio: for young listeners

Imagine a nonstop set almost 2 1/2 hours long by a group of musicians as talented as the three members of Cream and twice as big (plus an apprentice organist). The Grateful Dead did just that last Thursday night in the Kinetic Playground, and it was the most impressive music-making the house has seen since opening its doors last March. 

And it came as a surprise to many of us who had never seen the group in person - even despite the raves that had filtered here from the west coast. 

The albums are good, but not that outstanding. And there are still things wrong: They have no good vocalist; their material itself is not that memorable (you don't go around humming Dead tunes); and it takes them forever to really get warmed up (a friend Thursday remarked that they were the only group he knew that tuned up like a symphony orchestra). 

But when they do - and they did - there's nothing quite like it. 

Back to the Cream comparison: Instead of just Ginger Baker, the group has two drummers; instead of just Eric Clapton, two guitarists; instead of Jack Bruce, a bass player and a vocalist-organist-harmonica player. Plus someone on organ when the vocalist is singing or playing harp. 

In addition, all are superb - as musicians, as performers, as improvisers, what have you. The lead guitarist, Jerry Garcia, and the organist, Ron McKernan, deserve to be listed with the very best. 

They play a rather mixed bag: funky blues, psychedelia, country - all with a touch of Mothers of Invention freakiness thrown in. 

They closed Thursday with a violent free-form heavily electronic number that gave way to a country-gospel good-by which had the large audience standing, clapping, and stomping throughout. 

Due to [the] length of the Dead set, Procol Harum didn't play a second set, so we missed them this time around, and regret it in light of the new album.

Terry Reid was a disappointment (again, in light of a very good new album). His trio (guitar-organ-drums) is a first-rate bunch who likely will go far, but at present Reid himself is trying too hard, coming on too strong. 

He's very good looking, an excellent vocalist, and a rather good guitarist - but he's also too conscious of being all these things. Hopefully he'll tone down things a bit in the future. Watch them nonetheless, especially when the organist picks up a violin during the slow numbers - a violin, mind you, not a fiddle or an electric violin; a violin, and it sounds like one. 

(by Robb Baker, from the Chicago Tribune, December 2, 1968)

Thanks to jgmf.blogspot.com

November 15, 1968: Gill Coliseum, OSU, Corvallis OR

Most articles from the Oregon State Daily Barometer.

11/1/68

ROCK GROUP WILL PERFORM AT COLISEUM

Tickets for the Nov 15 concert featuring The Grateful Dead will go on sale today at 9 a.m. at the Student Activity Center ticket booth. 

The Grateful Dead, one of the leading rock groups of the nation, are being brought to the OSU campus for a Gill Coliseum appearance by the Oregon State University Students For A Democratic Society. 

Two top-selling albums have been released by The Grateful Dead - "Anthem of the Sun" and "The Grateful Dean." [sic] The best selling selections have been "Alligator" and "Morning Dew." 

Tickets for the evening concert are priced at $2.50 and $3. Tickets will be available daily from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. in the ticket booth. 

Two other groups will appear with The Grateful Dead. They are Mint Tattoo and Big City Blue. The Mint Tattoo is a trio from the San Francisco Bay area. 

Dress for the concert is entirely optional, although SDS hopes to have many of the students wear costumes.

*

11/5/68 

excerpt from The Little Man's Views column 

"I guess the Grateful Dead really are coming on November 15. This is a treat for those that just aren't thrilled to death by musical fare such as the Marine Band, or the Philharmonic. How about the Moby Grape next term?"

*

11/8/68 

GRATEFUL DEAD DANCE (Campus Scene column)

SDS will be giving away a poster today to everyone who buys two tickets to the Grateful Dead, Mint Tattoo and Big City Blue dance. All will be appearing at Gill Coliseum, Friday, Nov. 15. Tickets are $2.50 each and are available in the MU ticket booth from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. The posters will be given away with tickets only today. Students are reminded that this is not a concert but a sock-hop dance.

[also: Dionne Warwick performing tonight in Gill Coliseum as part of the 1968 Homecoming celebration.]

*

11/12/68

excerpt from The Little Man's Views column 

"The Grateful Dead are coming this Friday, and with them The Mint Tattoo, and The Big City Blues. Exponents of the San Francisco sound, these bands are well worth the two and a half bucks that it costs to get in. Besides, if we get this concert to work and make money, maybe we can get the Moby Grape next term, and I like them."

*

11/13/68 

GRATEFUL DEAD CONCERT

The Grateful Dead will appear in Gill Coliseum Friday, Nov. 15, from 8 to 12 p.m. Also appearing will be the Mint Tattoo and the Big City Blue. 

Tickets to the sock-hop dance are $2.50 and are available in the MU ticket booth and the Coachman downtown. Admission is $3 at the door. 

The light show for all three groups will be done by Gretz and Co. Dress for the dance is costume or grubby. 

The dance is sponsored by Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) and the newly formed Black Student Union. 

*

11/15/68

BANDS SET PERFORMANCE IN GILL COLISEUM TONIGHT 

Mint Tattoo, a trio from Los Angeles, will be one of the three bands appearing in Gill Coliseum tonight from 8 to midnight. Headlining the four-hour soc-hop will be the Grateful Dead from San Francisco and the Big City Blue. Gretz and Co. will produce a light show for all three groups which will envelop the entire coliseum. 

This panorama of psychedelic sounds is co-sponsored by Students for a Democratic Society and Black Student Union. Admission is $3 at the door; dress is costume or grubby.

*

11/19/68 

excerpt from The Little Man's Views column 

"Was OSU ready for The Grateful Dead? I'm not sure, but at any rate, they came, saw, conquered, and ambled on down to Eugene for a Saturday concert. It was a pretty orderly evening; not exactly quiet, but orderly. No fights, no riots or great destruction. Hopefully it can be done again next term, only bigger and better. How about Country Joe and the Fish, or Moby Grape, Chambers Brothers or Big Brother?"

*

"GRATEFUL DEAD" COME ALIVE

On Friday, Nov. 15 there was a happening in Corvallis. The Grateful Dead, a rock group from San Francisco, were at Gill Coliseum. The concert-dance, co-sponsored by Students for a Democratic Society and Black Student Union, attracted seemingly every "hippie" that Corvallis and out-lying areas have to offer. 

The audience, most of whom were seated on the floor, gave the impression of boredom and could be seen occasionally watching the light show which were on the walls of the coliseum and above the stage. 

Before we got a look at the Grateful Dead, we were confronted with two other bands and a speaker. A representative of SDS gave a speech about the state of affairs in the English department. Then they came on. 

Out walked the six members of the Grateful Dead, along with several others who helped them get their equipment in playing order. 

The member who seemed generally the first one to be noticed is a guitarist named "Pig-Pen." He had a head full of bushy, black hair and a beard which can only be described as full. The others had their outstanding characteristics, too. 

The organist resembled Wild Bill Hickock. Of the two drummers, one had on a magenta shirt and a leather band around his forehead. One of the guitarists had his long, blond locks pulled back in a queue. The other guitarist simply fit in with the rest of the group. 

For approximately two hours the Grateful Dead were on stage. They opened with their rendition of "Turn On Your Love Light" which was followed by "Morning Dew" and several others. 

When you got tired of watching them, there were a number of other things you could do. You could be adorned in fluorescent oranges, pinks and greens by wandering artists and then stand under a black light and watch yourself glow, you could buy various kinds of buttons, walk around the halls or talk. You could also dance if you didn't mind being run into by a long-haired dancer (male) who looked like he had ants in his pants. 

At midnight the house lights came on which told us the dance was over. All in all, it was an interesting way to spend a Friday night.

(by Kathy Faes, from the High-O-Scope, Corvallis High School, 22 November 1968)

Alas, no tape! 

Thanks to Dave Davis.

November 13 & 16, 1968: EMU Ballroom, University of Oregon, Eugene

All articles from the Oregon Daily Emerald. 

11/8/68

STUDENT OPPOSITION RISES OVER 'NO DANCING' DECISION  (by Jaqi Thompson)

Efforts to change the Grateful Dead concert Wednesday to a dance-concert will culminate in a University staff meeting today, but will probably be futile, as far as McArthur Court is concerned. 

A new policy this year prohibits all dances in Mac Court fall and winter terms. 

Speaking for Students for a Democratic Society, which is co-sponsoring the Grateful Dead's appearance, David Gwyther complained that the policy is too "inflexible."

Gwyther said damage to the court's floor was no longer a problem. SDS, he said, would buy $50 worth of special tape which would hold the canvas protecting mats together and in place. He said SDS would also pay labor costs. 

Gwyther said he saw the only remaining problem was the "inflexible policy." He said SDS members plan to seek a waiver of the policy. [...] 

According to Norv Ritchey, assistant to the athletic director, the mats are totally unsuitable for dancing on. "They slip and slide." 

Ritchey said the University's only mats were actually 20-year-old canvas conveyor belts, hand-me-downs from a paper mill. 

Multi-purpose mats which are easy to dance on and which can also withstand the 'exuberance' of dancers cost $20,000, he said. 

Ritchey said the University could not afford these mats or new canvas replacements because of budget limitations. 

The no-dance policy was set up jointly by the athletic department and the EMU officials, Ritchey said, to keep the floor in good condition for basketball games. 

After basketball is over, dances [are] allowed on the floor since it is always refinished every fall term anyway. [...] 

Ritchey said when dances were allowed fall and winter terms, the top seal and sometimes the paint was worn off, creating slick spots and an inferior basketball floor. 

When the paint wears off, the wood is exposed and starts to go, Ritchey said. He said the canvas mats sufficiently protect the floor from foot traffic and chairs. 

"But based on previous experience, at dances I've chaperoned myself, it's impossible to protect the floor," Ritchey said. 

Gwyther said SDS would insure that all dancers not wear shoes, but Ritchey said it would be impossible to enforce that control. [...] 

*

11/11/68  

FILMS, TALKS, CONCERT SET FOR SDS 'MEMORIAL WEEK' 

"Feeling Caught Up in the System" is the theme of United States Memorial Week, sponsored by the campus Students for a Democratic Society, and beginning today. 

A number of activities including a radical film festival, resistance seminars, and anti-draft demonstrations are planned here for the week. 

Purpose of the activities, according to SDS spokesmen, is to promote direct action by members of the Eugene community against the "establishment." 

"The elections have not solved this country's problems," said a society flyer. "We must start solving them ourselves." 

Five documentary films, among them a 50 minute work titled "The Columbia Revolt," will highlight the film festival. [...] 

"Columbia Revolt" deals with recent disturbances at Columbia University in New York City. According to SDS, special emphasis is placed upon the role of Black students in the protest against university administration. 

Other films to be shown are "No Game," an essay on the October 1967 Pentagon demonstration; "The Boston Draft Resistance Group;" "Black Panther," an interview in jail with Panther leader Huey Newton; and "Garbage Demonstration," a humorous look at the recent garbage strike. 

The films will be shown Tuesday and Thursday in the EMU Ballroom. [...] 

The Free University will be held in the EMU Ballroom Tuesday... Students, non-students, and faculty members will participate in seminars on a variety of topics, including imperialism, colonialism, revolution, and function of the University, non-violence and violence, high school organizing, as well as draft and military resistance. 

Wednesday activities will be climaxed by a concert featuring "The Grateful Dead" and "The Sir Douglas Quintet" at McArthur Court. 

Tickets, at $2 per person, are on sale at the EMU main desk and at the door. Curtain time is 7 p.m. 

Thursday has been designated National Resistance Day by the national SDS. Anti-draft demonstrations are planned at a number of colleges in Oregon. [...]  

Activities at the University will probably include draft card burning and a demonstration against the Selective Service System.

*

11/13/68 

The Grateful Dead concert tonight has been moved from Mac Court to the EMU Ballroom and dancing will be allowed, Dave Gwyther, spokesman for SDS, said Tuesday night. 

The move came after a meeting with Acting President Charles Johnson re-affirmed the policy of not allowing dances in Mac Court due to the possibility of damage to the basketball court. 

*

11/14/68 

The Palace Meatmarket shared the spotlight with the Grateful Dead at Wednesday's dance-concert in the EMU Ballroom. The dance-concert was part of Wednesday's U.S. Memorial Week activities sponsored by the Students for a Democratic Society.

*

11/15/68 

MAC COURT POLICY TOO INFLEXIBLE  (editorial -- excerpt)

The athletic department, it seems, doesn't trust students. 

Not at least when students want to use the McArthur Court floor for a dance. A new athletic department policy prohibits all dances at Mac Court fall and winter terms so that the floor won't be messed up before our basketball teams play on it.

As a result of this policy, the Grateful Dead were moved from the court to the EMU Ballroom, which is too small to comfortably handle all the students who wanted to see the group. We wonder how many people they would have stuffed into the Ballroom if the Dead had not been first billed as a concert in Mac Court, if Oregon State hadn't advertised in the Emerald their Grateful Dead concert as a dance, and if the sponsors, SDS, hadn't waited until the last minute to switch the show to the Ballroom. 

According to Norv Ritchey, assistant to the athletic director, it would be impossible to protect the court's floor during a dance even if canvas mats were laid over it. Dancers, he says, exert much more pressure on the floor than people in chairs. 

He assumes, however, the dancers would be wearing shoes. The sponsors of the dance said they would make sure that all dancers would take their shoes off before going onto the floor. 

Ritchey says that would be impossible to enforce. Bull. It would be very easy to collect shoes in the Mac Court lobby, before the people go through the doors to the court. [...] 

When the next nationally known rock group agrees to perform for a dance here, we hope the athletic department will cooperate with the rest of the University community, and allow the use of the only existing facility which can adequately hold everyone who wants to attend.

*

But the Dead would soon be back... 

11/15/68

SENATORS APPROVE FREE 'DEAD' CONCERT' (by Mike O'Brien -- excerpt)

Grapes and the Grateful Dead constituted the main business of the ASUO Senate last night. 

One bill requested that the Grateful Dead, a popular music group, be allowed to give a free concert Saturday night and that the social director make the arrangements for that concert. 

After a guarantee from Bill Kerlee that the SDS would cover expenses involved, the bill passed. [...] 

*

11/18/68 

 

The Grateful Dead played up a storm during Saturday night's free concert, as an estimated 2,000 persons showed up for the four-hour rock session. The program ended on a dramatic note, with a "bomb scare" clearing the EMU Ballroom in a matter of moments. Whether the scare was legitimate, or merely a hoax, is being investigated by the Eugene Police Dept.

*

11/19/68 

EMU BOMB SCARE DEEMED A 'HOAX'

A 'bomb scare' that emptied the EMU Ballroom Saturday night has turned out to be a hoax. 

"There was no bomb," according to Sergeant Carely of the Eugene Police Department. However, detectives have been assigned to 'follow-up' the incident for more information. 

A mock or model wooden bomb was found on the stage during a dance and concert given by the band, the Grateful Dead. Approximately 2,000 persons were in the ballroom at the time. The Eugene Police Department was called and the ballroom cleared. 

Nothing more has been discovered about the incident. 

*

And from the Eugene daily paper, the Register-Guard... 

11/18/68

FAKE BOMB ENDS UO ROCK DANCE

A fake bomb planted near some amplifiers brought an early end Saturday night to a University of Oregon concert and dance by a rock group known as the Grateful Dead.

Eugene police said someone attending the dance noticed the "bomb" - consisting of seven wooden sticks, painted red to resemble dynamite, an alarm clock, battery, and wires - and reported it to Anthony Evans, night manager at the Erb Memorial Union, where the concert and dance were being held.

Even though one of the band member[s] held up the "bomb" and indicated it was a fake, Evans decided to clear the Erb ballroom at about 11:40 p.m., police said. Police were called, took possession of the "bomb," and were still investigating Monday.

See also: 

https://deadessays.blogspot.com/2017/11/lost-shows-come-to-light.html 

October 1968: The Matrix

BACK AT LAST - A SOUNDPROOFED MATRIX

WATCH FOR THE HEADLINERS

 

If you're going to run a hippie night club, you're going to do it hippie-style, damn the profits, but pay some dues - right? 

Wrong. Or, at least at the outset, owners of the Matrix pushed the profit motive as far as they could. 

But, to their credit, the pursuit was hip all the way from the introductions of the Jefferson Airplane and the Steve Miller Band. through upsets both financial and legal, up to a police bust last October (too noisy) and continuous threats of more shut-downs until the club's owners (new ones, by then) finally threw in the towel in March. 

Today, the Matrix has reopened at its old Marina residence, 3138 Fillmore St. Its owners are freshly prepped on the business side of night club operations and they've soundproofed all four walls with six-and-a-half inches of absorbent fiberglass and sheetrock. 

The walls were amply tested in a pre-opening benefit in June. Big Brother, Steve Miller, the Charlatans, Sandy Bull, and the Santana Blues Band provided sky-high decibels as a newly-acquired rent-a-cop, posted outside, smiled the fuzz away. 

Club owners are Pete Abram and Gary Jackson, a pair of UC Berkeley graduates who took control nine months before it closed last March. Abram had established himself at the club a year earlier with his tape recordings of booked groups, chief among them the Great Society (represented by two vacuous LPs on Columbia) and Canada's Sparrow (now Dunhill Records' successful Steppenwolf). 

Because of the nature of the business, small night clubs have slim chances of succeeding financially. Abram and Jackson are trying out a new idea: To attract top bands, they are offering 95 per cent of the door money to the musicians. Cover charge is $2.50 with a legal capacity of 104. Five per cent of the door goes to the person who handles booking. In a normal night club operation that would leave them only the proceeds from drinks, etc, to pay upkeep and turn a profit. 

They hope to make a profit from recordings of Matrix performances. 

Abram scored substantially last year when Columbia laid out $20,000 for his Great Society tapes, despite the doubtful audio quality of Abram's $200 recorder and $13 mikes. 

Now equipped with a mini-studio setup (Magnacord recorder mixer and a slew of professional mikes), Abram and Jackson plan to make money by selling demonstration tapes to forming groups who need demos for prospective angels (financial backers) and record companies. 

Tapes of groups which are already contracted by recording companies could be sold only by arrangement with the recording company and/or the groups or their agents. Some of these groups might want tapes, however, for their own use. 

Abram is negotiating with a major record label which would provide professional recording equipment in return for the first right of refusal on uncontracted performers. 

Abram and Jackson also hope that the Matrix can again be a springboard for good new bands. 

The original Matrix owners opened in August of 1965 - on the first great tidal wave of "hippies" - with just that in mind. 

"Marty Balin (Jefferson Airplane co-pilot) was a part owner of the club," Abram recalled, "and he was with a folk group, the Town Criers, before the club opened." Early plans called for the Matrix to be just another body exchange - "something like the Drinking Gourd," Abram said. But before the doors opened, Balin and friends plugged in, became the Airplane, and needed only a hangar. The Matrix was it. 

Before long, with the rise of the Haight-Ashbury, the ballroom light show-Oracle-posters-Aquarian Age scene, and [the] continually growing distinction of "The San Francisco Sound," the Matrix was a starting point. 

Among the beginning groups were Blue Cheer, Great Society, Sopwith Camel, Country Joe and the Fish, Big Brother and the Holding Company, Steve Miller, and the Charlatans, not to mention among others, the first local appearances of the Chambers Brothers, the Electric Flag, the Blues Project, and the Doors. 

The full list, without making any kind of understatement, reads like a Who's Who of post-hip rock. 

The club, set amid several niteries in upper Fillmore, in a district zoned for everything from bowling alleys to little old lady residents, soon drew the organized wrath of a trio of LOL's Abram blithely refers to as "the Carrie Nations of Cow Hollow." 

Their complaints about noise were aimed at three or four clubs in the immediate area. The Matrix was the first casualty. A Big Brother appearance was scratched after warning of a big bust from City Hall-paid Big Brothers. Then an actual bust occurred last October during an audition session, with Abram getting a $250 fine plus probation and suspended sentence. 

After that, threats came more regularly than some of the club's best customers. Abram and Jackson closed the room in March. 

Returnees will find a mammoth 6x24 stage where the bar used to be, a beer-and-wine policy, and entertainment bills boasting one headliner, one newer band, and periodic surprise jams. Its first-week bill last month was Steve Miller, Crome Syrcus from Seattle, a guest set by the Anonymous Artists of America, and some jamming by Harvey Mandel (late of Barry Goldberg Reunion and Paul Butterfield Blues Band) and his new group. 

Last Monday, Jerry Garcia, freaky lead guitarist of the Grateful Dead, dropped by to jam with three or four friends, and the club made its usual closed night an admission-free affair. 

One small - but important - irritation: Unless the Matrix gets rich quick, audiences can expect a bum air conditioner. 

It's not Auschwitz-bad, but, as Abram himself said, tongue and a few strands of his long black hair in cheek, "Right now our only problem is getting the wine to the customers before it evaporates."

 

(by Ben Fong-Torres, from the San Francisco Bay Guardian, 1 November 1968) 

 

Thanks to jgmf.blogspot.com  

 

See also: 

http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2018/09/october-30-1968-jerry-garcia-at-matrix.html 

https://jgmf.blogspot.com/2010/02/mickey-and-hartbeats-october-28-1968.html 

Picture caption: In the early days, The Jefferson Airplane at the Matrix. Today, a 24-foot-long stage dominates the left side wall, once a bar. Photo by Jim Marshall

 

 

For more early Matrix history, see JGBP & Wiki. 

For Matrix show lists, see COAU & Examiner listings. 

And for a glimpse at the pre-'68 Matrix, this news clip of a rehearsal from Feb '67: https://diva.sfsu.edu/collections/sfbatv/bundles/210748

June 14, 1968: Fillmore East

JEFF BECK GROUP CHEERED IN DEBUT
British Pop Singers Delight Fillmore East Audience

They were standing and cheering for a new British pop group last night at the Fillmore East. The American debut of the Jeff Beck Group promises much heated enthusiasm for the quartet in its six-week American tour.
Mr. Beck is a young Londoner who distinguished himself for a year and a half as the lead guitarist of the Yardbirds. He was seen, if not really heard, in a sequence of the film "Blow-Up" and has generally earned a reputation as a highly polished and adroit blues guitarist. He and his band deal in the blues mainly, but with an urgency and sweep that is quite hard to resist.
The group's principal format is the interaction of Mr. Beck's wild and visionary guitar against the hoarse and insistent shouting of Rod Stewart, with gutsy backing on drums and bass.
Their dialogues were lean and laconic, the verbal Ping-Pong of a musical Pinter play.
The climaxes were primal, bringing the "big beat" of the English rock school forward.
But there were whimsy and invention and modernist games thrown in, in "Beck's Boogie" and variations on "Bolero." All told, an auspicious beginning for an exciting group.
The British group upstaged, for one listener, at least, the featured performers, the Grateful Dead of San Francisco. This two-drummer sextet was settling into its elaborate and discursive arrangements in a musically psychedelic vein when the deadline came. The band sounded more cohesive and disciplined than past outings here and was warmly received.
A rather aimless performance by a trio called The Seventh Sons opened the evening wanly. Perhaps it was an off-night for the group or perhaps they were totally overwhelmed by the rest of the bill.

(by Robert Shelton, from the New York Times, 15 June 1968)


See also:

http://deadessays.blogspot.com/2018/02/buzz-saw-music-fillmore-east-june-14.html
http://rockprosopography101.blogspot.com/2009/12/june-14-15-1968-fillmore-east-grateful.html

May 17-18, 1968: Shrine Exposition Hall, Los Angeles

THE 'GRAPE' APPEARS IN ROCK CLUB

The Moby Grape, the real Moby Grape, as the ads said, since the San Francisco quintet had recently been impersonated at another club, attracted a sizable audience for a weekend appearance at the Kaleidoscope.
Although their albums and single record releases have met with relatively little commercial success, the group has a devout following because of the quality of the material and their live performances.
They are fun to watch, fun to listen to, and danceable. Some of their songs - "Sitting By the Window," "8:05," and "Omaha" - are among the best products of San Francisco combos.
The Moby Grape projects a vigorous sound through four synchronized guitars and a vocal flexibility matched by few groups.
Despite their abilities with blues, ballads, and straight rock, however, the quintet has just enough humdrum material to prevent them from being great.

Meanwhile, over at the Shrine Exposition Hall, the Grateful Dead pummelled several thousand persons with their long improvisational rock music in a show sponsored by the Pinnacle.
The sound of the San Francisco sextet is heavily dependent on lead guitarist Jerry Garcia, whose brilliant playing makes it hard to realize that he is surrounded by routine musicians.
They have two average drummers instead of one good one. Pigpen's organ is generally barely audible and his voice, the best in the group, is mediocre.
Garcia, however, led the group through some exciting blues-based music which roused the Shrine crowd into fervid demonstrations of appreciation.

(by Pete Johnson, from the Los Angeles Times, 20 May 1968)

Alas, no tape!

Pete Johnson also reviewed these Dead shows:
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2012/02/september-15-1967-hollywood-bowl.html
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2012/02/november-10-1967-la-shrine-hall.html
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2017/06/august-23-1968-shrine-exposition-hall.html
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2020/07/march-22-1969-rose-palace-pasadena-ca.html

March 11, 1968: Memorial Auditorium, Sacramento, CA

BRITISH ROCK TRIO PLAYS HARD BLUES

Cream, a relatively new British rock music trio which has been, you should excuse the expression, rising to the top very swiftly in America by way of two record albums, made an impressive debut last night in the Memorial Auditorium before a near capacity crowd of around 3,500.
The trio takes its name from the claim that its members are the cream of the crop in England. Guitarist and singer Eric Clapton; Jack Bruce, who plays bass guitar, harmonica, and also sings; and Ginger Baker, the drummer, are all said to be stars in their own individual right at home. After hearing them ride through an hour and five minutes of hard driving and often brilliantly played arrangements, one is willing to believe it.
Their music is, with few exceptions, primarily and very strongly rooted in the blues. Last night's pieces were almost all blues, and included, from their more popular recorded numbers, "Tales of Brave Ulysses," a slow, driving and very verbal piece, and "The Sunshine of Your Love." The very slow and supremely gutty blues which followed the latter, a lament for a gone woman, was even better.
The trio's set closed with three pieces which gave each man a chance to shine. Clapton's moment, a long, insistent solo, came in a duet with Baker. Bruce then teamed up with the tireless drummer for a fast "train blues" on the harmonica, spiced with husky singing that eventually mixed so swiftly with the harmonica one could hardly tell them apart. It was a brilliant, exciting performance. Finally, the two guitarists gave Baker a sendoff and then left him alone onstage for a tremendous 10 minute drum solo that stood the crowd on its feet for a final ovation.

The San Francisco group known as the Grateful Dead opened the program with a 60 minute performance that was uninterrupted from start to finish. The first half of it seemed either to be divided into sections or was actually three or four numbers strung together with some random guitar tuning in between. The second half was a long, long blues that ended in several minutes of roaring, howling, screaming cataclysmic electronic sound, punctuated by several firecrackers set off by one of the two drummers and eventually fading away into a hillbilly-style hymn bidding the audience good night. It was quite a contrast. Some of the earlier parts of the performance worked up some musical momentum, but nothing of what was sung could be understood. Loudness, it would appear, is the overriding quality the Dead are after.
The local group known as the Light Brigade projected from the rear of the stage a light show behind the performers.
The show was an inexcusable 47 minutes late in starting.
Adults who think all young people are rebellious should have seen the incredible patience this crowd displayed during this period of waiting for those outside to buy tickets.
With the Cream's performance, however, it became apparent they knew what they were waiting for.

(by William Glackin, from the Sacramento Bee, 12 March 1968)


Alas, no tape! 

Thanks to jgmf.blogspot.com

See also:
http://deadsources.blogspot.com/2017/05/march-11-1968-sacramento-ca.html

November 17, 1968: Eagles Auditorium, Seattle

THE DEAD AND THE INDIANS

Re-tribalization will be the keyword Sunday afternoon from 3 to 9 when the Grateful Dead rock group moves into the Eagles Auditorium (7th and Union) for a benefit concert to help Indian fisherman in their battle to retain traditional netting rights on the Nisqually and other Washington rivers.
Admission is a flat $2 per head. Children under 12 will be admitted free.
Al Bridges, an Indian leader who has led numerous fish-in protests at Frank's Landing near Olympia, will introduce the Dead.
Suzette Bridges, a vivacious and articulate young lady, will present the tribes' side of the fishing feud.
Backing the Dead will be the Bryon Pope Ensemble from Los Angeles, Easy Chair, Light, and Papa Bear. The Retina Circus light artists will provide illuminations.
Part of the funds from the benefit will be used to establish a bail fund for Indians and others arrested for allegedly illegal fishing. This year alone there have been 27 gill-netting arrests. Bail - formerly set at $250 - has been raised to $1000.
The Indians also must replace nets confiscated by the state. They cost between $60 and $100 apiece.
Some 40 persons, Indians and non-Indians, have established a communal colony at Frank's Landing on the Nisqually. Some live in teepees; others in tents and crude hogans. They contend that the Medicine Creek treaty of 1854 gave the Indians the right to fish in "their usual and accustomed places" for "as long as the sun shall rise, the streams shall flow and the grass shall grow."
The state, on the other hand, claims the treaty is invalid and that the Indians must adhere to seasonal regulations.
The colony at Frank's Landing is seeking to re-tribalize, to return to the bounty of Nature. But it hasn't been easy. They've been tear-gassed, terrorized and hassled by citizenry and officialdom alike.
Now they've dug in for the winter. It promises to be a long, wet one.
Their choice of the Dead for Sunday afternoon's gig is an apposite one. The Dead more or less started the whole concept of group tribalization on a musical level. Beginning with Ken Kesey and his early Acid test prankstering, the Dead (originally called the Warlocks) have solidified under their Chief, Gerry Garcia, as a sub-tribe with something to say - and the sound and talent to give their message a voice.
The Dead and the Indians. Far out!

(by Bob Houston, from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, November 15, 1968)

*

GRATEFUL DEAD

by Roger Downey:

From Herodotus to Stanley, Pizarro to Powell, mankind has loved explorers. And not only seekers in space; Nietzsche, Beethoven, Buddha, William Burroughs; what fascinates us is not their discoveries, but the risks taken to make them. We are an adventurous race at second hand.
At Eagles' Sunday the Grateful Dead mounted an expedition into the unknown, using portions of the work-in-progress called Anthem for the Sun as navigational charts. Define it as a problem (and you can't, for a problem suggests an answer): given, the universe determined by the instruments, the players' physical endurance, their creative energies: to transcend that universe by devouring it, filling it up, shattering it by pressure from within, and thus reaching Somewhere Else. Now if Somewhere Else were really the goal, and not the journey of exploration, the Dead would fail: beyond the limits of music is not Somewhere Else, but only Not-music. The end of the journey comes at the point where the senses can absorb no more, the mind can no longer comprehend, hold together, the experience; as in orgasm, things fly apart, returning to their separateness; but not unchanged. The terrain defined has been used up, thoroughly experienced, exhausted; and in the process, as in the art of love, the musicians, and the audience, so far as it can follow them, are used up, exhausted, as well.
In music, if anything is possible, and equally likely, the result is necessarily chaos. The Dead maintain a lifeline back to ordinary musical experience by their use of rhythm, refusing to allow the integrity of the line to be disrupted. When it begins to weaken, there is an immediate lessening of other musical tensions until it is re-established. This is not to say that there is anything simple about the Dead's rhythms: the section of WIP (not recorded yet, but played at Eagles' and Sky River) in 11/4 time, subdivided 3+3+3+2 is, with sections of Stravinsky's Soldier's Tale, the most exciting use of rhythm as a creative, not just a sustaining, element that I have ever heard. Over and through the polyphonic rhythmic texture, Garcia, Weir, and Lesh (who is as much a melodic contributor as the two guitar players) create a contrapuntal, ever varying texture of lines that tightens and thickens until disaster seems inevitable, then relaxes only to tighten again. It is always the texture that is important. Melody as such, solos, are secondary. Harmony in the almost defunct traditional sense is nearly absent; it could only get in the way of the development of the primary all-enveloping texture of sound.
The experience I have said, like love, is exhausting; I, and I'm sure many in the audience, longed toward the end for each climactic surge to be the last; but when the last climax came, we realized that it was in fact the only one, necessary and final.
Like good lovers, the Dead do not abandon you at the peak, but return you, not at all quickly, to earth. In the last section, the insistent pulse of rhythm is absent, melody irrelevant; the texture is open, full of yawning vacancies and sudden violent displacements. When you land, the journey seems to have been inevitable from the beginning; your feet touch ground as lightly as leaf falls.
For what it is worth, the Dead succeeded in getting an Eagles' audience on its feet and kept it there for the duration of the piece. When it was over, and the crazy calls of "More!" had died away, someone came out on stage and told us to stick around for the rest of the program. All respects to the others that played, that is like announcing, "You have just been present at the end of the world. Please stay tuned for our next big attraction."

by Max Smith:

The Dead is up there on the stage playing, and they are really looking at us, the audience, and it looks like they love us and if they didn't, wouldn't bother to pretend. And I am surrounded by people I love, and who love me. But still something is wrong. Our blood is rioting, but we're sitting there quietly as if listening to a sermon or watching Chet and Dave. A few people move with the music, but stay seated.
Karma and I are sitting there wanting to dance, wanting to pulse with that music, wanting to tell what we know and feel.
So we dance, and yippee, everyone is dancing. And the Dead is dancing with us.
Right in front of the stage is Floyd Turner, dancing like there's no tomorrow, a combination whirling dervish, Charleston and twist with extraordinary virtuosity. He is expressing what he has been wanting to express all this time and we in a circle around him, clapping, feel his expression, real and powerful. Communication achieved. A cataclysmic orgasm is no better.
Then I notice the performers up there above our heads, on a stage five and one half feet high, and I realize that I envy them; I want to be up there. The stage belongs to the people. I feel the collective power of the people behind me and I feel my own ego, a monster engaged all these years in a puritanical society where "showing off" is a high taboo.
I dance toward the stage, then retreat. This several times; then riding the crest of the music, leap to the stage, pulling Karma up behind me. We are met by angry beard heads. "You're not supposed to be here." Fire regulation.
But they don't want everybody up here. O.K. then: two at a time. We get off the stage and boost two more up. Everybody can take a turn. Nobody else wants to go up. It seems to me they are afraid of looking silly; I will go up and show them it doesn't hurt to look silly, so I go up and fall on my face and get up, as if nothing happened. "See, it doesn't hurt to look foolish; come on up." Then it occurs to me that this may be another case of someone trying to lead people where they don't want to be led, of someone not knowing the people he's trying to lead.
Floyd and I are backstage after another hassle with the stage crew. He is telling me he has deep love and heavy ideas, but no words to express them. The number ends, and we rush onto the stage to take bows.
I see Mike Watson, who has worn himself slick arranging for the benefit, and I explain I wasn't trying to sabotage the show, but that people as spectators are automatons. He understands, but he explains it is the Indians' benefit, not mine. I agree, but I want to say something to the crowd. I am full of joy at the truths I have discovered, and full of myself. So Mike says I should make the closing remarks, and I agree.
But I am burning to talk. Right then. For too long I have been following leaders and listening to most of them by people who know less and care less about people than I do. So I go to the microphone, at a point when the stage is empty between groups. The microphone is shut off, and I do not have a voice like Norman Mailer.
Another hip looking, angry face orders me to get off the stage now.
"I have something to say."
"You better get off here."
"I just want to say something."
"No."
I leave.
He follows me and asks me who I am. I tell him my name and that I'm a citizen who wants to speak, He tells me his name, Boyd, and explains that I'm not on the program and that there is a schedule.
"But between groups, there's only recorded music."
"You should go to the Helix. They're nice over there. They'll let you write something. Or, speak over station KRAB; it's a good place to air your views."
"Yes, but I want to speak now,. By tomorrow, someone else may have the message or it may be lost."
He's sorry, but the program is running late already. I go back stage to prepare my closing remarks. It will be a soaring epic of the Indians, but I can see that Buffy, Suzette, and the other poetic voices of the Indians have done that as beautifully and powerfully as it can be done. I will tell them in thousands of words how limited words are...I am beginning to have an inkling that I may be just another boring speaker.
Through the curtains I watch the next act, a rock group with a good sound, and a talented mime with a painted clown's face. An angry stage manager stomps up. The curtain must be kept closed for the "continuity of the light show." I can stay, but the curtain must be zipped up, the state K.P. inviolate, the mystique of the performers preserved.
I am thinking of this mystique while I watch the performers perform back stage. It occurs to me that maybe my mind is distorting all of their behavior to fit my new hypothesis, but what I say, as I rap to a performer's woman, seated back stage, seems valid.
"You people are Gods. And you like to keep it that way. You're scared of the audience, 'the masses.' Afraid that they'll find out they can sing and dance and play too, afraid you'll lose your bread and butter. I see what the Mime Troop (San Francisco) meant by wanting to do away with rock bands. They only wanted to do away with labels, album covers, copyrights on music, copyrights on the truth."
She smiles, silent.
I hear applause, so I return to the stage for one more bow.
Later, Byron Pope's jazz group, the last on the program, is playing. At first what they are playing is not pleasant, discordant to my stoned head. I would rather play with my friends than listen, so we make a circle, hand-in-hand, and start a snake dance through the dwindled audience.
Wait a minute. It dawns on me that they are excellent musicians and that they are already mad from having to play to an empty house. I reason: performers aren't Gods, but because of their discipline and mastery, deserve some attention.
But what about Elizabethan audiences? If they didn't like the show, they let the performers know about it. The exchange between them and the actors added to the show.
In this case, it seems to me that Byron Pope's group exchanged for our inattention the most pissed-off music I had ever heard.
But it was honest and when it wasn't hurting my head, beautiful and fresh,
The short set is finished and the house lights are on. The remaining few scuff through the papers and bottles. I am disappointed about not speaking, and I feel for an instant as empty as the hall. But there are all my friends, goofing and smiling. And the Indians have a couple thousand dollars and some new allies for their struggle. 

(from the Seattle Helix, November 21, 1968) 

Thanks to jgmf.blogspot.com 

Alas, no tape!

December 13-14, 1968: The Bank, Torrance CA

GRATEFUL DEAD GIVES CONCERT

The Grateful Dead, one of the original components of the San Francisco sound, journeyed south to the Bank in Torrance over the weekend for what amounted to a progress report on the development of their music.
Unlike other bands of the same era, the Dead's music has survived the pressures of commercial success and popularization.
While other groups were rapidly releasing albums in an attempt to capitalize on a moment, the Dead waited over a year to release their second record, hoping that it would be a further exploration of a territory they were only beginning to discover. The result was nearly fatal with a fickle public.
Their brilliant performance at the Bank this weekend went far toward obliterating any early demise. Guitarist Jerry Garcia displayed his prowess as an innovator capable of sustained solos that are never dull. His strength lies in the lyrical progressions he employs to develop thematic lines.
Bassist Phil Lesh combined with the Dead's two drummers to create a series of exciting contrapuntal bottoms that were highlighted by frequent, but never wanton, variations in time signature. Rhythm guitarist Bob Weir provided catalytic themes from which Garcia and Lesh drew inspiration. Weir would state a theme, wait for Garcia to interpret the statement, and then move on to another idea.
The Grateful Dead seem to function in a musical hinterland that utilizes the potential of its individual members in relationship with its group entity. Each member of the band is concentrically related to the unit, allowing individual freedom of exploration and the security of a fixed position at the same time.
In keeping with the Bank's policy of providing balanced quality booking, Magic Sam, a superb Chicago blues band, also performed.

(by David Mark Dashev, from the Los Angeles Times, 17 December 1968)

Thanks to Dave Davis.

* * *

EARWAX  [excerpt]

The Grateful Dead played at one hell of a funeral last weekend as the Bank announced it is closing down.
Main reason for the death of the fifth Los Angeles rock club to close within a year was pressure from the local gendarmes who have done their best for the last four weeks to intimidate Bank patrons. It was not unusual to see a dozen or so cars being searched between the club and the Hamilton Street offramp, a distance of one quarter of a mile.
The scare tactics worked on the less faithful with a subsequent drop in attendance.
The Bank was one of the few nightspots around that maintained an intimate atmosphere so important to the moodiness of most bands. Now smogville is left with the Ash Grove, Troubadour, Whiskey, and the Shrine - with the Ash Grove being the only club where bands can get it on with any frequency.
The Dead's great lead guitarist Jerry Garcia displayed his genius for nearly three hours on Saturday night without boring anybody. Magic Sam and blues guitarist Richard Dennis aided Garcia in making the Bank's farewell a rousing wake. The club's "family" are planning a final "Screw L.A." party for New Year's Eve for the official burial. Sad to say we'll all rest in peace. 

(by Bob Barnett, from the Valley State Daily Sundial, 20 December 1968)

Thanks to jgmf.blogspot.com

Alas, no tape! 

See also this list of shows at the Bank:
http://rockprosopography101.blogspot.com/2010/08/bank-19840-south-hamilton-avenue.html

October 30, 1968: Jerry Garcia at the Matrix

NEW MUSIC MAY CAUSE HISTORY TO REPEAT ITSELF

The rock jam sessions at The Matrix on Fillmore Street, judging from a couple of hours there last night, are the most consistently interesting experimental music in town.
The Matrix a few years ago was the seed bed of what is now the astonishingly successful San Francisco sound.
The new music that guitarist Jerry Garcia and his friends were getting into last night may indicate history will repeat itself and The Matrix will be the home of a renaissance in the San Francisco rock musicians' attitudes.
Garcia, the prodigious instrumentalist and nominal leader of the Grateful Dead, is a spokesman for more freedom of expression and a far looser and expanded musical scene.
"Fate brought us together here tonight," he quipped, "so this is fate music."
"We're trying new things, feeding ideas to each other, using new instrumental blends, inviting guests to join us...we are enlarging our world."
The Grateful Dead is still alive, but Garcia doesn't believe in months on end of traveling, doing regular concerts, playing things safe.
"We may have a full Grateful Dead show some day," he said, "with girl singers, more complex rhythms. We may even enlarge the band."
Last night with two drummers, guest guitarist Elvin Bishop, and bassist Phil Lesh, Garcia was getting into more fascinating and enjoyable expressions than I run into in most of the more stereotyped rock and jazz clubs and concerts.
This electronic experimentation will never be commercially successful. It has long-line themes with continuous improvisation. Far closer to the jazz sessions of old than to the neatly processed pop-rock of today.
The Matrix is a relaxed musical workshop. It's a beer-wine place with neat decor, an inexpensive menu, a beautiful sound system, and some beautiful people, too. 

(by Philip Elwood, from the San Francisco Examiner, 31 October 1968) 

https://archive.org/details/gd68-10-30.sbd.sacks.1205.sbeok.shnf

June 7, 1968: Carousel Ballroom

BALLROOM IS NO PLACE FOR A CONCERT

Sure recipe for a mob scene - the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead in a downtown ballroom on a Friday night in June.
The Carousel last night was jam packed, but crowd quantity did not guarantee musical quality, and neither group was at its best form.
These affairs aren't dances, they are concerts. The San Francisco sound is no longer the catalyst for dancing. The fans either don't want to dance or they can't because of sardine-can conditions. So what's happening on stage, through the loud speakers, is the whole scene.
And as a concert hall the Carousel is woefully inadequate. The light show doesn't illuminate enough of the stage; the sound system, last night, was distorting badly; and if 3000 people are going to sit, there might as well be chairs.
Far more bodies would be closer, and more comfortable; maybe the created floor space would then invite dancing. I miss it.

The Jefferson Airplane always comes on strong, and they did last night. But after "It's No Secret" the set I heard became muddled. Grace Slick is singing louder and guttier than in the past but seems to have lost some of her melodic beauty. Her duets with Marty Balin have a sameness and often are hurried and ineffective.
The Airplane's ensemble strength was inconsistent; even the heavy bassist Jack Casady was often lost in the acoustic imbalance. Lead guitarist Jorma Kaukonen, always steady, worked in some nice solos and wah-wah effects with his usual taste.
But the group's long experiments-in-sound, electronic dissonance, drum breaks, etc., failed to come off.
The Dead should be Grateful for guitarist Jerry Garcia. Without him, last night, their set would have been a shambles, a joke. Garcia's astonishing performance consistently places him ever further ahead of his colleagues.

(by Philip Elwood, from the San Francisco Examiner, 8 June 1968)

https://archive.org/details/gd68-xx-xx.sbd.vernon.9426.sbeok.shnf (might include some recordings from the Carousel, June '68)

* * * 

An earlier article from the March Airplane/Dead shows... 

FUTILE DANCE-REVIVING ATTEMPTS

There were those Friday and Saturday evenings a couple years back when the original Jefferson Airplane, the Great Society, and the Charlatans got together under promoter Bill Graham's roof to hold a dance - not a sitdown affair or a mixture of the two highly unbalanced by the latter - but an uninhibited bash overflowing with perpetual physical motion. 

Those were the days in the "dark ages" when curious rock fans left their homes for an evening of entertainment and flocked together to live a few hours with a new breed of music which was still a seedling at the time but threatening to blossom at the first possibility. In the beginning the reaction was slow but progressed naturally and, as a likely response, people danced. 

There were a few people back then, though, hardly more than a handful in the crowds, that for reasons of their own risked soiling their bottoms to sit gaping at the bands. Though being stationary wasn't the most positive reaction to this new movement of rhythms, this minority was accepted. 

There have been many changes since those early days, the most obvious being the tremendous influx in the number of disciples attached to the ever-expanding music revolution occurring locally. The scene has become a way of life, and each day new recruits discover how beautiful it is.

Another remarkable change is the manner these disciples now react to the entire rock circle at the ballrooms here. People, for the most part, don't dance anymore. Whether the groups performing be English bands, New Yorkers or locals, there's a new philosophy which has risen locally out of rock followers: the majority, reversing the tables of a couple years back, now storm the ballrooms to park their rumps at the most comfortable floor angle adjacent to the stage to become part of a huge mass of "eyes and ears." 

Rock bands in the immediate area also seem to be on a 'kick' of trying to revive the old ballroom routine of "everyone dance because it's the thing to do." 

A couple weeks ago at the Carousel, pleas to "please dance" coming from both the Airplane and the Dead more or less back-fired with an audience response that was somewhat nil. Most stood up still securing their posts on the floor, a few made attempts to dance, but overall the pleas were futile ones. 

Where has dancing gone? Better yet, why is it people prefer to sit motionless hour upon hour in ballrooms just listening? 

This writer has reason to believe that the crux of the "problem" lies in the designs of local ballroom promoters who are continually presenting two and sometimes three "big name" bands on the same bill each weekend, thus drawing full house crowds which naturally are unfavorable to a dancing atmosphere. They make great concerts, but rather congested dances. 

It seems the only logical solution is for the promoters to "lighten" the bills, that is if they're sympathetic to this "dance drive" currently being undertaken by local musicians and aren't in the scene "just for the money." And until favorable dancing conditions are reached, this writer feels that bands should permit their audiences to sit (or stand) and breathe comfortably rather than strive to have them do the impossible. 

It's not that people don't want to dance anymore, but this beautiful thing called rock music seems to draw massive crowds as if it were a living magnet. 

According to a spokesman for Headstone Productions, which is now putting on the shows at the recently "revamped" Carousel Ballroom, dance-concerts "will become a very regular thing" at the Carousel, quite possibly on a steady weekend basis. This weekend the Grateful Dead and the excellent showman, Chuck Berry, will headline. 

Country Joe and the Fish, Steppenwolf, and the Flaming Groovies are at the Fillmore this weekend while Jeremy and the Satyrs, Sons of Champlin, the Fourth Way, and Al Alexander's Timeless Blues Band are at Avalon.

(by Martin J. Arbunich, from the Guardsman, March 27, 1968)