youtube Wembley 31:27
Main theme at 9:57.
First verse at 10:53.
Goes into Sugar Magnolia.
When the Grateful Dead went to Europe for what would be the first of five tours, it wasn’t entirely clear what kind of band they were going to be in 1972. In 1971 they seemed to be moving away from long improvisations in favor of a more conventionally structured show that focused on rock songs that were relatively concise, although these were of course played unconventionally. Dark Star had become infrequent, with only 12 airings in 1971 (which means it was played at a bit less than 15% of their shows). They did play The Other One frequently, and there are several excellent Dark Stars, but it would not have been outlandish to conclude that they were gradually trending away from the long jams they had been known for in the 1960s.
Of course this is not what happened. He wasn’t always very loud and he didn’t often take the lead, but Keith Godchaux’s playing was brilliantly inventive; it seemingly inspired the others, opening new horizons for collective improvisation. At some point (presumably prior to the beginning of the tour) the band decided to heavily emphasize improvisation in Europe, with every show featuring either Dark Star or The Other One (and long jams would sometimes emerge elsewhere in the set, a phenomenon which became more common in 1973-4). Dark Star, which the band would play 35 times in 1972, was about to enter a new Golden Age.
Although the Academy of Music version (1972-03-23) is a very fine piece of music, the renaissance really begins with this version which, like the Live/Dead version, represents a great leap forward even if it does not come out of nowhere. The hesitancies and lack of commitment, still in evidence in the March rendition, seem to have vanished. This is a masterful piece of music and a landmark in improvisational music.
They begin it rather briskly, but it somehow still has a brooding feel in the early going, as the jam alternates between a kind of moody hovering and frequent returns, less explicit each time, to the theme. This begins with a pause of momentum at :32, which resolves itself with a return to the main pattern at :46. At 1:06, Garcia hangs on a B and brings them into another little holding pattern. This gradually works its way back toward another resolution at 1:46 which they start to unspool almost immediately. Then at 2:30, Garcia begins playing a sprightly line and one of their frenetic jam coalesces around him, but there is still a sort of brooding and hovering aspect to it. Garcia seems to want to drive them toward a peak, and this comes around 3:05, but again, while they sound confident and do not hesitate, there is an undertow of moodiness.
At 3:24 there is a hint again of the main pattern, but they hold back as Garcia gives us a languid and sorrowful take on Bright Star with Godchaux providing a counterpoint. They get swept away into a mournful jam, and then at 4:33 the return to the theme comes as a mere hint. Here Garcia begins a walking line that almost inaugurates a jam, but they instead subside again. At 5:24, Garcia starts to blast out one of his morse code messages, and this time everyone is ready to commit to it, as the band gathers force and we are swept into a frenetic jam. Riding the maelstrom, Jerry unleashes some howling repeated lines, as the band crests peak after peak.
It would be a major task to keep track of all the jazzy repeating licks Lesh tries on in 1972. At 8:07, he starts hammering what sounds like a take on Reggie Workman’s bass line to John Coltrane’s version of “Greensleeves.” He varies it a bit as the band sounds like it’s finally coming down the other side of the mountain. They take their time cooling off, though, and the music gets stranger, with melodic ideas flying everywhere, and somehow it all fits together. At 9:57, Garcia swings into the main theme, and we are headed for a beautiful reading of the verse. By now, we are at a decidedly slower tempo than we began with—Kreutzmann should have played to a click track, clearly (note: some of the responses to this indicate that I need to point out that this was said ironically).
The post-verse landscape is austere, as the band emerges into a kind of space. At 13:12 or so it almost sounds like a 1970-style cessation is coming, but they fill the space with eerie ponderings, orbiting around Phil’s bass. At 13:39, as Lesh slides into a feedback passage, Garcia stops scratching and assays a plaintive melody line, but no one seems inclined to come back to earth yet, and a kind of moody and atonal space jam is building. At 16:25 Phil seems inclined to start a jam; Jerry stabs out some morse code lines, and a pretty jam starts to take shape.
The playing here is urgent, but there is still a stormy sense of brooding that pervades the music. Approaching the 19 minute mark it sounds like a meltdown is coming, as things get more chaotic. Godchaux is pushing up against Garcia’s line, and at 19:03 Weir inserts himself in between with a squalling burst. The tide starts going out again, and then it starts to build again—the dynamics here are rather volatile in a way that is reminiscent of 1969. At around 20:20, Pigpen is inspired to join in on organ in the most unexpected place, although it’s hard to hear very much of what he’s doing on this recording. At 21:30 everyone is playing a melodic line but Phil is again hinting at a Greensleeves-like riff as the music builds again, and then again they start to subside. 22:20 sees us in a calm where quiet melodies swirl around, and something new seems to be on the horizon. This gentle passage continues, however, with Garcia hitting some delicate volume swells beginning at 23:09.
As beautiful as it is, by 24:25 they almost seem to be out of gas. Don’t worry, though, they’re just getting started—Garcia clicks on the wah pedal and, in what will become a familiar gambit, initiates a build-up to a meltdown. The storm reaches its full power at about 26:50, and then at 27:22, when everyone seems ready to take a breath, Garcia starts to sketch out a riff that they will ride out to the end. After a little pause, this kicks in at 27:32, and the band instantly snaps into shape. It seems like something rehearsed, but the only evidence I can cite for or against this idea is that this is the only time it is played.
The chord pattern that emerges here, however, is more or less the same one that will become known as the Mind Left Body jam, although the duration of the chords will be different when that finally appears in the Fall. It may be that Weir first pulls it together here, or maybe they had been toying with it. In any case, this is a unique jam, but they are all pulling in the same direction such that it sounds like a composed section. Whatever the case is, they have had a lot of practice playing structured jams in the middle of Dark Star over the past year or two. This finally gives way to Sugar Magnolia, and the Dark Star is over (you are to imagine Gary Cohen saying this here).
Some Dark Stars are exploratory, others are confident and cohesive pieces of music; the best ones, like this, are both. With this magnificent rendition, Dark Star has moved back to the very center of the Grateful Dead experience, and it will remain there for the remainder of 1972. Here they have put together a version that will never be surpassed, although one could argue that they went on to equal it on occasion.
This may be the best thing the Grateful Dead ever played. This may be the best thing anyone has ever played. And with that, there’s nothing more that needs to be said.
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