Freebird Revisited; The Hydrogen Jukebox Plays On

[rubadub555]

A few years ago, this was my take on the 2.5.04 DSO show at Freebird, my first show>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In Which Familiar Music Plays on The Hydrogen Jukebox

Ever since young Buddha broke a string on his sitar,

walked offstage and abandoned The Emptiness Blues and Raga Revue,

to repair to the woods to contemplate his navel,

and the impermanence of phosphor-bronze,

fans have been harkening back to the good ol' days,

the days when we were strong and fresh in the magic.

Many of us cling to vintage touchstones of tone and spark,

and grow skeptical about the new line-up, the new album

the Next New Big Thing Band.

No new sound seems to gleam with the true gold of old alchemy,

like no overhead noonday sun is bent into the same

twisted purples and scarlets of dusk.

And the deaths of Pigpen, Keith, Brent, and Jerry Garcia,

the shadow of the Persian dragon, the thinning digital signal chains,

the blown lyrics, the revolving Dead door; admit it, we can't help but wonder.

And pine for the good old days.

And some hop off the Bus. Some follow Kimock or Trucks or Donna The Buffalo.

And so I was poised to be disappointed by my first viewing of the Dark Star

Orchestra last Thursday at the Freebird, the saloon by the sea near my home,

brick walls and columns, wraparound balconies, Guinness on tap and a square

wooden floor in front of the stage.

The stage set-up at the Freebird suggested a post 74-pre 79 show (two drummers, a Donna mic).

The Weir guitar was the same blonde double-cutaway Ibanez he played then,

the Garcia guitar was a strat-like tobaccoburst Paul Reed Smith with three

humbuckers and a coil splitting switch, I think.

Big oriental carpet, old Fender bass.

The band came on, no posing silliness, comfortable in the Premise, tuning,

noodling. They kick off Sugaree, and the sound is sweet, the first lead has escape

velocity right off,I'm thinking, this is fine and eerily familiar, this song was the vehicle

JGB/Garcia travelled in, back in 1976 when he first changed my mind, when I stood in the front rows of

folding chairs at Seton Hall University, or sunk into the seats at The Capitol Theatre,

when he peeked over his glasses, and his searching, wistful line climbed and

climbed, through excruciating build-ups, and eventually Garcia fanned the strings

in goosebumper crescendos that still echo in my mind's ear; and DSO gets some big air right off,

so I'm thinking still when the next few tunes (Cassidy, Loser, Minglewood)

are eerily familiar too,the builds coming in familiar ways and lifting up the energy in an uncanny

familiar way; I'm bought into the premise by now, undistracted by their appearances, the

Weir is strikingly Weir,Garcia/Kadlecik is a fine archivist of a player, wonderfully faithful tonight

to the 1977 sound and style of Garcia, but who plays with emotion and flair, powering off the runways with dynamic

lift-off attention,with brimming glee and squinting The Holy Goof at us, Row Jimmy, Ramble On

Rose, the impassive bassist is pushing an almost unbearable big cushion of air

through the room,just like, just like...

So between songs I finally turn to some shiny happy college students beside

me, feverish with the old familiar urgency, or something close to it,

and in paternal tones, I say, "you youngsters, you may not believe it,

and I may be wrong, but when I was a scrubbed 19 year old college student

like you, heart on fire with the possibilities, 27 years ago or so, I'm pretty sure now,

I pressed up against the stage the whole night at this very exact show,

six feet from Garcia, who lit himself on fire and ventured out on the wire,

and we're all in for it now."

They regard me suspiciously at first, and say "what are you talking about?"

I answer "Springfield 4.23.77, and here comes Scarlet and one of the first

Fires."A few songs later, here it comes, now I'm stunned and now their wide eyes

show they believe me and now I'm sure DSO is capably recreating the finest upclose single concert

experience I had out of 100+ GD shows over 19 years, the one I would have picked, if I could

have, Holy Coincidence! a show I've traded far and wide and expected Dick's Picks treatment of, mebbe,

Garcia played the white Travis Bean with the orange sticker "the enemy is

listening"the crowd pushed us against the barrier, (Hanley climbed over midway through

to get some air)at the end, Donna handed us her half empty cup of beer and some crazed freak

snatched it away,we drove back up into Vermont in the cool night;

but meanwhile DSO is playing with the same sense of exuberance,

they're emitting that old familiar Inside Joke Energy,

the same crisp energy of the drumsololess second set,

the same dirty electric piano, the same wah-wah, bee-in-a-bag MXR distortion+

EstimatedBerthaMusicNeverHelpOnTheWaySlipknotFranklinsTowerRoundAndGoinDownTheRo

adNotFadeAway

washes across the room like a very reasonable facsimile of the night I recalled.

Qualifier for Unca Wiggly and other naysayers;

Your mileage will certainly vary. They fell off of the beam once in awhile,

a few bars, who wouldn't, the lead slide on Row was tentative, and vibrato

spare, I admit the serendipitous pick of 4.23.77 lit me up like a Christmas tree,

the show has overwhelming associative power for me,

BUT if a big part of this style of music is the Ineffable Mojo,

The X Factor, the ability to summon a well-engineered copy

of the Apocalyptic Crack Of Doom on the Hydrogen Jukebox,

then DSO has it, in spades.

With wry irony, they sang Ripple for the encore.

"It's a hand-me-down," indeed, and they know it, but a glorious one.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Now after several other DSO shows have made me even more comfortable with the Premise;

here's my take on last night's Freebird show,3.4.08, based on Dick's Pick #11, 9.27.72;

DSO is honorably serving as Curator of The Museum of the Electric Church of Grateful Dead Music;

they are respectful and competent stewards of the Sound,

with just the right amount of ironic sparkle in their eyes,

as they watch young and old heads respond to this curious powerful music.

Rob Barraco and Rob Eaton are pillars of the structural authenticity of DSO,

and John Kadlecik plays with competent faithful attention to the details of Garcia's style,

and bassdrumsandDonna are locked into the flow.

Last night's sonics were courtesy of Dan Healy,whose familiar touch was evident to me early;

the sound, during the opening Morning Dew was quiet, Kadlecik's guitar barely audible,

Kevin's bass a bit anemic, but -recall how Healy mixes to the room, as the show progresses

and the equipment heats up and the room fills up-by BIRDSONG the sound was full like high tide;

during the China/Rider bridge, the clarity and volume were like GD shows

when the sound is so present you feel it on your face, and in the air

but not painfully so. I looked back and Healy was standing, arms crossed, beaming.

DSO provides consistent competent educational time travel,

and pays great respect to the Grateful Body of Work.

During Attics of My Life, as "the petals all unfold(ed)"

any qualms about the validity of the Premise disappeared for me,

and I got the familiar tingle that signals the touch of the holy electric ghost,

thus, this re-issuing of the Sparklewell Seal Of Close Enough.

Hambone Sparklewell

[Guest darbysdad]

Fellow Old Head,

That Review Was Just Freeking Amazing,Sir

You,Absolutely..........., Get It.

[HelpSlip]

That's the most incredible review of any show/any thing I have ever seen.

Thank you for that.

[Guest crazy digits]

A few years ago, this was my take on the 2.5.04 DSO show at Freebird, my first show>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In Which Familiar Music Plays on The Hydrogen Jukebox

Ever since young Buddha broke a string on his sitar,

walked offstage and abandoned The Emptiness Blues and Raga Revue,

to repair to the woods to contemplate his navel,

and the impermanence of phosphor-bronze,

fans have been harkening back to the good ol' days,

the days when we were strong and fresh in the magic.

Many of us cling to vintage touchstones of tone and spark,

and grow skeptical about the new line-up, the new album

the Next New Big Thing Band.

No new sound seems to gleam with the true gold of old alchemy,

like no overhead noonday sun is bent into the same

twisted purples and scarlets of dusk.

And the deaths of Pigpen, Keith, Brent, and Jerry Garcia,

the shadow of the Persian dragon, the thinning digital signal chains,

the blown lyrics, the revolving Dead door; admit it, we can't help but wonder.

And pine for the good old days.

And some hop off the Bus. Some follow Kimock or Trucks or Donna The Buffalo.

And so I was poised to be disappointed by my first viewing of the Dark Star

Orchestra last Thursday at the Freebird, the saloon by the sea near my home,

brick walls and columns, wraparound balconies, Guinness on tap and a square

wooden floor in front of the stage.

The stage set-up at the Freebird suggested a post 74-pre 79 show (two drummers, a Donna mic).

The Weir guitar was the same blonde double-cutaway Ibanez he played then,

the Garcia guitar was a strat-like tobaccoburst Paul Reed Smith with three

humbuckers and a coil splitting switch, I think.

Big oriental carpet, old Fender bass.

The band came on, no posing silliness, comfortable in the Premise, tuning,

noodling. They kick off Sugaree, and the sound is sweet, the first lead has escape

velocity right off,I'm thinking, this is fine and eerily familiar, this song was the vehicle

JGB/Garcia travelled in, back in 1976 when he first changed my mind, when I stood in the front rows of

folding chairs at Seton Hall University, or sunk into the seats at The Capitol Theatre,

when he peeked over his glasses, and his searching, wistful line climbed and

climbed, through excruciating build-ups, and eventually Garcia fanned the strings

in goosebumper crescendos that still echo in my mind's ear; and DSO gets some big air right off,

so I'm thinking still when the next few tunes (Cassidy, Loser, Minglewood)

are eerily familiar too,the builds coming in familiar ways and lifting up the energy in an uncanny

familiar way; I'm bought into the premise by now, undistracted by their appearances, the

Weir is strikingly Weir,Garcia/Kadlecik is a fine archivist of a player, wonderfully faithful tonight

to the 1977 sound and style of Garcia, but who plays with emotion and flair, powering off the runways with dynamic

lift-off attention,with brimming glee and squinting The Holy Goof at us, Row Jimmy, Ramble On

Rose, the impassive bassist is pushing an almost unbearable big cushion of air

through the room,just like, just like...

So between songs I finally turn to some shiny happy college students beside

me, feverish with the old familiar urgency, or something close to it,

and in paternal tones, I say, "you youngsters, you may not believe it,

and I may be wrong, but when I was a scrubbed 19 year old college student

like you, heart on fire with the possibilities, 27 years ago or so, I'm pretty sure now,

I pressed up against the stage the whole night at this very exact show,

six feet from Garcia, who lit himself on fire and ventured out on the wire,

and we're all in for it now."

They regard me suspiciously at first, and say "what are you talking about?"

I answer "Springfield 4.23.77, and here comes Scarlet and one of the first

Fires."A few songs later, here it comes, now I'm stunned and now their wide eyes

show they believe me and now I'm sure DSO is capably recreating the finest upclose single concert

experience I had out of 100+ GD shows over 19 years, the one I would have picked, if I could

have, Holy Coincidence! a show I've traded far and wide and expected Dick's Picks treatment of, mebbe,

Garcia played the white Travis Bean with the orange sticker "the enemy is

listening"the crowd pushed us against the barrier, (Hanley climbed over midway through

to get some air)at the end, Donna handed us her half empty cup of beer and some crazed freak

snatched it away,we drove back up into Vermont in the cool night;

but meanwhile DSO is playing with the same sense of exuberance,

they're emitting that old familiar Inside Joke Energy,

the same crisp energy of the drumsololess second set,

the same dirty electric piano, the same wah-wah, bee-in-a-bag MXR distortion+

EstimatedBerthaMusicNeverHelpOnTheWaySlipknotFranklinsTowerRoundAndGoinDownTheRo

adNotFadeAway

washes across the room like a very reasonable facsimile of the night I recalled.

Qualifier for Unca Wiggly and other naysayers;

Your mileage will certainly vary. They fell off of the beam once in awhile,

a few bars, who wouldn't, the lead slide on Row was tentative, and vibrato

spare, I admit the serendipitous pick of 4.23.77 lit me up like a Christmas tree,

the show has overwhelming associative power for me,

BUT if a big part of this style of music is the Ineffable Mojo,

The X Factor, the ability to summon a well-engineered copy

of the Apocalyptic Crack Of Doom on the Hydrogen Jukebox,

then DSO has it, in spades.

With wry irony, they sang Ripple for the encore.

"It's a hand-me-down," indeed, and they know it, but a glorious one.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Now after several other DSO shows have made me even more comfortable with the Premise;

here's my take on last night's Freebird show,3.4.08, based on Dick's Pick #11, 9.27.72;

DSO is honorably serving as Curator of The Museum of the Electric Church of Grateful Dead Music;

they are respectful and competent stewards of the Sound,

with just the right amount of ironic sparkle in their eyes,

as they watch young and old heads respond to this curious powerful music.

Rob Barraco and Rob Eaton are pillars of the structural authenticity of DSO,

and John Kadlecik plays with competent faithful attention to the details of Garcia's style,

and bassdrumsandDonna are locked into the flow.

Last night's sonics were courtesy of Dan Healy,whose familiar touch was evident to me early;

the sound, during the opening Morning Dew was quiet, Kadlecik's guitar barely audible,

Kevin's bass a bit anemic, but -recall how Healy mixes to the room, as the show progresses

and the equipment heats up and the room fills up-by BIRDSONG the sound was full like high tide;

during the China/Rider bridge, the clarity and volume were like GD shows

when the sound is so present you feel it on your face, and in the air

but not painfully so. I looked back and Healy was standing, arms crossed, beaming.

DSO provides consistent competent educational time travel,

and pays great respect to the Grateful Body of Work.

During Attics of My Life, as "the petals all unfold(ed)"

any qualms about the validity of the Premise disappeared for me,

and I got the familiar tingle that signals the touch of the holy electric ghost,

thus, this re-issuing of the Sparklewell Seal Of Close Enough.

Hambone Sparklewell

Nice job! I enjoyed that immensely. I used to live in Jax and they are better for it with you there...back in the early 80's, not too many folks who liked the GD or appreciate it the way you do!! Having seen 240 GD shows in my day and closing in on 150 + DSO shows, it truly is an obsession but its pleasin' GRATE review!!!

[Fritz]

Rubadub-

Thanks for that review friend......have seen a few shows this tour and have been absolutely blown away by the quality of music ... the vibe... the feel of the shows I've seen. These guys and gal we've known as DSO have reached a point, to me, that hasn't been reached by any band in a very longgggg time. The addition of RB on keys has completed the puzzle. I was moved to tears at each show I attended this tour ..... visions of days gone by....times shared, some of which with some in the same audience....flashing through my head as eyes closed....feet uncontrolably bouncing around these weary legs ...as the music that has helped shape the person i have become is played at a level unheard by the ears in soooooo very long. Your review makes me smile as so often lately either here or in passing someone that just doesn't "get it" on the way out of the venue makles me shake my head wondering what possibly is the reason some people even show up. Thanks again for that review.....I really hope the boys (and girl) in the band get a chance to check it out......to reassure them that there are indeed those of us that so very much appreciate everything they do and have done......DSO truly are "curators of the electric church of the dead"........and i for one can't wait till i can get back to church

[Dstone5553]

BUT if a big part of this style of music is the Ineffable Mojo,

The X Factor, the ability to summon a well-engineered copy

of the Apocalyptic Crack Of Doom on the Hydrogen Jukebox,

then DSO has it, in spades.

Great stuff!

You've got a little of the Holy Goof in you as well

fellow prankster.

[jackjones]

Fellow Old Head,

That Review Was Just Freeking Amazing,Sir

You,Absolutely..........., Get It.

my sentiments exactly.

"It"

....thanks for the post

[chuckvegas]

Lately I haven't been able to get out as much as I would like, but I also have seen a few shows recently. I couldn't agree more with the spirit and tone of the review. Kesey is laughing and Neal is flexing his fingers on the wheel.

It is always good to get over one's qualms!

[rubadub555]

Thanks for the nice feedback;

haven't had so much smoke blown at me

since Normandy Beach in 1974.

Sparklewell