Grateful Dead, "Without a Net"
Ken takes us across the Rio Grand-e-o
Ken’s Pitch:
“If you get confused, listen to the music play” - Robert Hunter
I have no delusions. No false assumptions. No sparkly dreams that Without a Net, the Grateful Dead’s wonderfully energetic memoir of their last great tour (fall 1989 into spring 1990), will actually be inducted into The Newbury St Collection. I mean, we’re talking about a band that can be a bit polarizing. Like those rare and exotic truffles, if you love them, you love them. If not…yuck!
But hear me out. I’m not here to plead for recognition. I’m here on a nobler mission, to make the world a better place before I die. And that starts with exposing the public to the greatest version of “Eyes of the World” ever committed to tape, vinyl, or digital. I’m nothing if not altruistic.
Now, “Eyes of the World” is already a song that feels like a modern jazz-rock fusion masterpiece. Ask any deadhead (prior to March 29, 1990) about their favorite “Eyes” and you’ll get 20-30 different dates and cities shouted out. But on Without a Net, this version feels like Jerry Garcia is reaching directly into your soul with a guitar made of unicorns and rainbows. The band’s on fire. The iconic Branford Marsalis joins on both tenor and soprano saxophone, having never heard the song prior to that day’s sound check. It’s nearly 14 minutes of sublime noodling, the good kind, the kind that makes you stare into space and realize you’re just a little closer to figuring out the meaning of life.
Will this make it into our hallowed halls? Even with a rock-solid China>Rider, a gorgeously intricate Help>Slip>Franklins and enough Brent Mydland to last a long winter north of the wall…probably not. Without a Net is a shaggy, almost dirty collection of live tracks by a band famous for never playing a song the same way twice and occasionally forgetting lyrics on stage. It’s less of a cohesive artistic statement and more like brilliant chaos held together by tie-dye, grilled cheese, and cosmic vibes.
Yes, there are more polished live albums. More influential ones. But has any other album ever made you feel like you’re floating down a river at sunset while a man with a beard tells you stories from the far corners of the universe? That’s what Without a Net does, especially during “Eyes of the World.” It’s joy, in real time. It’s musical democracy, no one competing for spotlights, but rather lifting one another up, daring each other to climb further and further into space.
So no, I don’t expect a trophy, or even a commemorative plaque (although if the boys want to give me one, I wouldn’t say no). I just want to plant a seed in the minds of the curious. “Go listen to that ‘Eyes.’ Let your chakras realign. Maybe cry a little.”
Because if just one person listens and thinks, “You know what? That sax solo actually does make the world a better place”, then my work here is done.
Newbury St. or not, Without a Net is already immortal. You just have to be high on life, or at least high on Branford, to hear it.
CJ’s Response:
Ever since I first saw the original Grateful Dead at Wembley Stadium on Halloween Night in 1990, I find myself going to a Grateful Dead or Dead-adjacent show every two or three years. It’s always a joy. I never stress about the playlist because I only know about 30 to 50% of what they play and if I want to step out for a beverage during a song, I’m not afraid I’m gonna miss something. For me, a Dead show is the most low-stakes concert experience a person can have.
Looking back on that London show, I realize that I may have inadvertently seen an all-timer. They played big hits like “Scarlet Begonias,” “Truckin’,” “Fire on the Mountain” and “Franklin’s Tower” along with covers by Johnny Cash, Willie Dixon and Bob Dylan. (I won’t mention the Chuck Berry covers because it will give Mitch the vapors and give Don more fuel for his Ya-Yas fire.) Oh, and some guy named Bruce Hornsby had just joined the band.
All this just months after Without A Net had come out.
So, what did I think of Ken’s entry this week? Here’s the thing about Dead shows. I don’t distinguish this one from the thirty bootleg Dead tapes that this guy I drove cross country with in college insisted on playing as we traversed the Great Plains. (I had to punish him with mixtapes that included Lizzy Borden and Armored Saint. That’s right, I went all Armored Saint on him!) Is Without A Net better than any of the dozens of authorized and unauthorized Dead shows I’ve heard over the years?
In the words of camp counselor extraordinaire Bill Murray, it just doesn’t matter.
It’s all groovy to me.
By the way, the last “Dead” show I saw was Dead & Co. at Fenway Park two summers ago. Mitch and I viewed it from a luxury box where free edibles were provided. It was one of the greatest shows ever. Or so I’m told. I really don’t remember.
Pitch Successful (See ya on Shakedown Street)
Mitch’s Response:
We all know that Jerry Garcia quote where he likens the Grateful Dead to black licorice and says that while it’s not for everyone, for the people who like it, they really like it. And if there’s anything that ol’ Jer knew besides playing guitar, it was eating snacks. That boy sure loved himself some junk food.
But over 30 years the Grateful Dead cooked up a lot more than just black licorice, changing flavors regularly. If you listen to the Dead in 1969 vs. 1979 vs. 1989 (captured in this week’s pick) they sound like completely different bands, depending on the style of music that they were exploring at the time and what was going on with the individual band members.
Without a Net celebrates the Brent Mydland era, which really marks the point when keyboardist Brent & rhythm guitarist Bob Weir grabbed the wheel from Jerry Garcia & Phil Lesh in driving the sound of the band. By this point in the late ’80’s both Phil & Jerry were pretty bored and checked out of the Dead, so Bobby stepped up and filled the charisma void with his Bobstar persona, bringing some much needed rock and roll energy (and very short jorts) to center stage. Brent turned his keyboard into a lead instrument, and challenged Jerry to keep up with him. (Spoiler: he kept up just fine.)
The end result is a more modern, upbeat sounding band that oozed cheese while having the energy and rizz to power stadium shows. Is late ’80’s Dead anywhere near as good as ’70’s Dead? Not even close. But they deliver a party and some fresh takes on classic material.
And while Ken is absolutely right about the perfection of the Branford “Eyes”, he is 100% wrong about this being the Dead’s last great tour. Do yourself a favor and check out Spring ’91.
Pitch Successful (I still have the Pavlovian urge to pee and get a beer every time I hear “Victim or the Crime”)
Don’s Response:
Before I was truly familiar with the Grateful Dead, a fellow high-school music lover told me this joke:
“Went to see the Dead last night. 3-and-a-half hours. Great song.”
This common criticism – interminable noodling – and the fact that “Touch of Grey” was the only MTV serving I’d ever tasted – made a lasting impression. For years, I wrote them off and dismissed their fans. I couldn’t relate.
But it was impossible to escape the Dead’s ripple-effect because my favorite artist, Chris Robinson, loved to cover their songs with The Black Crowes and his first solo twist, New Earth Mud. His genuine love of the music, and ability to channel Jerry’s spirit and Pig Pen’s soul, was infectious.
Nevertheless, I’d never been to a live Dead-related show until I caught Phil & Friends at Boston’s Agganis Arena on December 1, 2005. The stellar line-up included Barry Sless, the great Larry Campbell, and Robinson himself.
I’ll never forget turning to Mitch and Ken after Chris’ harp solo in “Next Time You See Me” and declaring, “I get it now.”
The Dead have that way of sticking with you. Specific concert dates become indelible. I didn’t have to look up that show’s date.
Obviously, I don’t have Ken & Mitch’s institutional knowledge, nor CJ’s road-trip experience. But I know a great band when I hear it. And the late-’80s version of the Dead is damn good, even if not its peak line-up.
Without A Net was fun to listen to. I’m not going to over-analyze it because I just hit play and got lost in it as I futzed around this week. So, while I can’t recite the setlist, I’ll give it this review.
Great song.
Pitch Successful (no longer feeling like a stranger)
Ken’s pitch was successful and the Grateful Dead’s Without a Net will be added to the Newbury St. collection (joining the previously inducted In the Dark). Ken thought he was walking a tightrope but it turns out that everyone loves the circus. What’s your take on Brent-era Dead? Please let us know in the comments.
Please join us next week as Don steps outside of the circus tent and looks up with a pitch for U2’s Under a Blood Red Sky.
I appreciate that I get to be a side character in every single "we went to this concert" story. Part of me was hoping Ken would pitch "Dozin' at the Knick" so I could do the whole "I was at that show" bit, but "Without a Net" is a much stronger album. Albany loses yet again!
My very first of 20 or so official GD shows before 20 or so Dead adjacent shows was also Brent’s first. For my taste, I prefer the first half of the Brent era more than the second half, but that may have more to do with Jerry’s health and enthusiasm. I agree the Eyes from Without a Net is in the top 2-3 versions all time. Even though I joined the Circus later, I prefer to listen to the 74-78 era shows, except when Donna gets a little too shrieky. Rocking the Cradle from Egypt 1978 is an excellent representation. A stoned friend once said about the recording quality, “it feels like I’m inside the speaker.”