1/31/2024 0 Comments Jiffy lube liveAfter warming up with “Here Comes Sunshine,” they launched into the always-exploratory vehicle of “Playing in the Band” before drifting into “China Doll,” dourly known as the suicide song. While the first set played with themes of death and politics, the second set embodied them. Bob’s voice-and frame-emanated through the amphitheater with unbridled strength as he emphasized each syllable and put a bow on the set with the mention of “the darkness never goes from some men’s eyes,” bookending what he started in the set opening “Shakedown Street.” While the band’s pace can be called into question, especially the off-tempo “Bertha,” the band chugged along and lost no momentum as Weir strapped on his acoustic guitar for a bouncy “Friend of the Devil.” The acoustic fit right into the electric madness and perfected the sweet yet sad ballad of “Peggy-O,” our second foray into the imaginary word of Robert Hunter’s Fennario.Īn amazing jam between Mayer and pianist Jeff Chimenti rocketed “Cumberland Blues” into the stratosphere, before Weir howled his not so subtle stab at political ethos in “Throwing Stones” to conclude the first set. The set continued to dive into the Dead’s American songbook, with a fully integrated John Mayer taking the reins of the fantasy-laden “Dire Wolf” before Bob Weir revved into “Hell in a Bucket,” another ode to crumbling societal norms that feels as proper now as it did in the late eighties. You couldn’t help but sniff the subtle jabs to the establishment in the shadows of our nation’s capital.Ī brutally hot afternoon on Shakedown Street-the carnival-like shantytown of vendors hawking everything from tie-dye shirts to garlic salt dusted grilled cheese-saw crowds in high spirits with sweat-soaked clothing but spirits not dampened.Īs the sun dipped behind the high arching pavilion, shielding the massive grass lawn from the never-ending heat, the band took the stage and lit into “Shakedown Street.” With the crowd singing along to imagery of darkness swallowing a once prosperous and possibly metaphorical town, it was hard not to decipher a deteriorating political landscape twenty miles down the road. Wednesday night at Jiffy Lube Live in Bristow, Virginia, Dead & Company roared through two sets of tunes fixated on death and poetic justice. That’s not to say that their lyrics don’t touch on the thematic landscape of America’s political woes, but like poetry (and beauty), interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. While no friend to the corporate establishment or a cog in the government machine, the band left the protest songs to musicians such as Bob Dylan. Despite their emergence in the mid-sixties at the height of the counterculture era, the Grateful Dead were never considered an overtly political act.
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