55 Years Later: The Grateful Dead Make Early Definitive Live Statement With ‘Live/Dead’

With over a half-century retrospect, it’s altogether mind-boggling that Live/Dead is the first of what would subsequently become a plethora of concert recordings by The Grateful Dead. And, in the density of intelligent reasoning customary for the group, the rationale behind Live/Dead lies in the band’s aim to minimize recording costs while simultaneously capturing their stage sound with greater accuracy. 

And, last but not least–and hardly surprisingly, given their longstanding affiliation with sound guru Owsley Stanley, a/k/a ‘Bear’–the Grateful Dead were availing themselves of the latest technological advances of the time, a 16-track machine (operated by none other than THE Betty (Cantor)).

Had the Dead not been in it for the long haul with Warner Bros. Records at the time of the 1969 release, the band might have expanded beyond its double LP size for reasons akin to the contractual-fulfillment thinking that resulted in the triple-set Europe ’72. Regardless, Live/Dead quickly became and remains one of the definitive live releases in rock. 

While, in hindsight, compared to later archival efforts, the seventy-five-plus minutes might seem only to scratch the surface of Grateful Dead live performances, these seven tracks present a faithful representation of the group’s expansive stage dynamics of that time.

To that end, a rousing and cathartic fifteen-minute showcase for Pigpen, “Turn On Your Love Light,” is ideally sequenced to follow the initial foray into psychedelia and precede the hushed blues of this Rev. Gary Davis cover of “Death Don’t Have No Mercy.” In addition, there’s a precursor to the “Space” segments of later years in the form of “Feedback.” In the context of long-term influence, it’s hard not to wonder, too, if Phish got the idea for acapella numbers from Garcia and company’s climactic “We Bid You Goodnight.” 

However, before those expressions of the secular and the sacred, some patient explorations of nether worlds took the form of the irresistible blossom of  “Dark Star.” Highlighted by the most unorthodox counterpoint between Jerry’s guitar and the late Phil Lesh’s bass, its deceptively leisurely pace is an ideal setup for “St Stephen” and “The Eleven:” orchestrated as a massive suite, the impact of these three tunes carries resonance as complex as the playing.

Logical and complete in its varied overall progression(s), Live/Dead is fascinating in discerning the septet’s probing of, and embroidery upon, successively fresh melodic and rhythmic motifs. The lively instrumental expeditions early on feature drummers Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart (who had joined the band a little over a year before); the ‘rhythm devils’ truncated drum interludes are of equal prominence with Tom Constanten’s keyboards, whose unpredictable fills decorate openings in the arrangements. Still in its nascent stages, rhythm guitarist Bob Weir’s idiosyncratic style was yet to fully form and perform that function almost indiscernibly in later years. 

Otherwise, however, as the Grateful Dead’s repertoire expanded with the inclusion of more original material, their improvisational approach widened and deepened in direct proportion to the growth of their repertoire. Live/Dead thus documents the psychedelic warriors’ preeminence as the standard-bearer of the kind of exploratory musicianship later epitomized by the so-called “jam bands.” 

To reaffirm that notion in no uncertain terms–as if that was necessary–comprehensive presentations of the source material eventually appeared in 2005’s Fillmore West 1969: The Complete Recordings (in both three and ten-CD sets). Delving into these packages in all their unedited glory provides excellent insight into the art of musical improvisation in general and the idiosyncratic chemistry of the Grateful Dead.

Meanwhile, over a half-century of hindsight, supplies focus on how Live/Dead sets a lofty standard for the multitude of this iconic ensemble’s archival concert pieces released in the interim. An early decision to allow audience members to record their concerts was visionary in its own way, as was the band’s move to tape their shows themselves so they could listen afterward and thus improve their performances.

The latter initiative eventually gave birth to many an archival series. Beginning in 1991 with the relatively abbreviated string titled From The Vault, these efforts have also famously taken the form of thirty-six entries in Dick’s Picks as well as its similarly named successor Dave’s, numbering fifty-two entries as of this writing. Between those two lies the four-year expanse of Road Trips releases: originally conceived to present excerpts from multiple shows in a given period, in contrast to the two aforementioned complete show endeavors, it slowly but surely morphed into showcases for entire concerts. 

Any number of one-off packages, such as The Closing of Winterland, have also seen the light of day, and these include massive box sets, such as the seventy-three CD collection Europe ’72: The Complete Recordings. As with the HDCD remastering of Live/Dead for inclusion within the 2001 Rhino box set The Golden Road (1965–1973), these issues invariably offer audio with as much clarity as depth to reveal the detail of the musicianship. 

Close and repeated listenings to that end ultimately become experiences that become as exquisite in their own way as the fifty-five-year perspective arising from the scintillating combination of instinct and pragmatism that is Live/Dead.