In keeping with the deluxe package in which it appears, Ray Robertson’s essay for the 50th Anniversary Edition of Grateful Dead’s From The Mars Hotel is one of the best in the series. Prose, as amiable as it is passionate, is also most insightful in its observations on the state of the iconic band circa 1974. Plus, it’s personalized: the author’s self-designation as a ‘headphone head’ will resonate with those similarly inclined music lovers (and bring a knowing grin to their faces!).
Naturally, the first disc of the three here includes the original album. Music remastered by David Glasser displays an enveloping, tactile presence, content ever-so-slightly expanded with demo versions of “China Doll” and “Wave That Flag.” This track sequencing reaffirms the pragmatic solidity of the original eight cuts; the latter is an early incarnation of “U.S. Blues,” while the former is as touching in its own way as Phil’s doom-laden co-authoring with Bobby Peterson’s “Unbroken Chain.”
Those alternately whimsical and tormented touchpoints come to life with the high-contrast instrumental additions of Ned Lagin’s synth on the aforementioned “Chain” and John McFee’s pedal steel on the same writing team’s “Pride of Cucamonga.” While the band had not yet become as (overly) self-conscious about studio work as it would later in its career, the recordings of From The Mars Hotel are less transcendent than simply utilitarian. Perhaps that’s because the prolific stream of original material dating back to 1970 was dissipating.
Or maybe, as the essayist hints, there were concerns more practical than artistic in this endeavor (the possible ‘inspiration’ for the decidedly desultory likes of Bob Weir and John Perry Barlow’s “Money Money”?). That state of affairs may have also engendered the overly playful (and abruptly concluded) likes of “Loose Lucy,” hearkening a bit too closely to both “Tennessee Jed” and “He’s Gone,” the innate bounce in the tune nevertheless allows depiction of the ensemble’s nimble navigation skills with Bill Kreutzmann as the sole drummer.
Regardless, From The Mars Hotel did bequeath regular insertions of its material into live setlists, two of which reside within the show that comprises the remainder of this panoramic collection of songs. In a subliminal pairing of topical compositions, “U.S. Blues” and “Ship Of Fools” bookend the track sequence on the main LP and, as such, they function as cautionary tales about the world at large, perhaps no more or less effectively than when placed within the twenty-two concert selections from the initial road appearance of the legendary ‘Wall of Sound.’
Taking place within a month or so of the release of the seventh Grateful Dead studio album on 5/12/74 in Reno, Nevada, Bill ‘Kidd’ Candelario’s engineering misses only the opening offering of Chuck Berry’s “Promised Land.” And while that shortfall is minor in and of itself, hearing the near four hours duration otherwise delineates why neither Robertson nor archivist David Lemieux goes into great detail about the performance: unlike the comparably mammoth but wholly stirring Lyceum Theatre, London, England 5/26/72, sparks fly throughout the concert, and embers smolder near the end, but no flames ever catch.
Preceding and following the progression from “Truckin'” into “The Other One” and a somewhat amorphous attendant jam, the Dead otherwise flourish throughout with concise takes on a broad range of material (as smoothly as 1977?) including “It Must Have Been The Roses,” “Jack Straw” and another Chuck Berry tune “Around And Around.” But the closer that is “Sugar Magnolia” never quite reaches euphoric heights, despite some of the most energized piano playing Keith Godchaux ever contributed to the sound of the Grateful Dead (similarly engaged likes of which appear throughout).
Skewed stage banter suggests an oddly disjointed group mindset during this outdoor concert. It’s conceivable that fatigue set in toward the conclusion of the performance. Or maybe the new sound system was taking some getting used to. Regardless, the ultimately muffled impact of the show as a whole intimates why this release was ideal: flaws aside, it is fully complementary to the studio set.
Complete and comprehensive as is this 50th Anniversary Deluxe Edition, the cover art not only expands upon the original graphics of the album but also distinguishes itself from its similarly-designed predecessors in the milestone series. Relegating the colorful but bizarre figures of the bandmembers to inside the triple-fold digipak, the front 3D image appears on the outer sleeve in a flat finish, embossed in such a way it begs for close perusal.
An ever-so-accurate reflection of the Kelley/Mouse Studios work that graced other Grateful Dead albums (as well as much poster art of the Sixties), such multiple perspectives also reside at the heart of the sound inside, at its best moments.
