Thank you so much! I’m so sorry the website isn’t live yet for The Amazing Gracelynn yet but it is just because i have spent all week busting my butt trying to get it on the shelves in time for this to come out! it just came out yesterday, I haven’t even received MY copy yet to check it out yet ! lol http://www.amazon.com/Saving-Amazing-Gracelynn%60-1970-1977-Beginning/dp/1507643411/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog

Hi I’m Sherry Carroll and it’s a pleasure to be read by you, I hope you’re enjoying half as much as I am. I have wanting to do one of these for ages and this is my first so you will have to bear with me. Bear with me? WHERE? Oh sorry I got distracted for a minute there. I’m just your average American mild mannered suburban Maryland housewife (with a secret identity) who always grew up writing poems to her at and elaborate Barbie doll melodramas, but it wasn’t until fairly recently I discovered, yes, it was true. I was a writer. God help me. This is what look like in real life

Me now

Then I take of my glasses ….

And voila! Somehow on the internet I look like this! Ain’t makeup and technology grand!

Me Sultry

I write obsessively from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep.

View original post 3,191 more words

   This is the first in a series of true rock and roll mini-stories that will be inspiration for my next book.

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 The only reason we ever started hanging outside the back stage door for every show that came in to town was to figure out how to meet bands for the next time Queen came to town. We would show up in the afternoon before a show and hang around fidgeting and giggling, hoping the band would get out of their limo outside the back door so we could goggle and paw at them. We never expected  get backstage or were prepared  to ever even be asked to the parties. It came as a complete shock (to all of us) when a roadie came up to me at the Jefferson Starship gig we hadn’t been able to get any tickets to, which was almost over and asked me my name really politely, and respectfully, and asked if I wanted to go inside with him , because there was somebody he “wanted me to meet” Nina and I stared at each other with big wide eyes, we have never actually crossed the threshold into the sacred backstage before and she gave me her denim jean jacket, I don’t know if I said I was cold or I would need it, or if she was just preparing me for whatever was to come, whatever that may be, the best that she could.

  He led me through the bay and right up to the wings of the stage, while the band was in the full troughs of hour two,    I was in a state of shock. And then off the stage, waiting for the audience to beg them back for their last encore, came a long-haired, hard rocking vision, the mysterious reason I was there.

“Craig, I’d like you to meet Sherry, Sherry this is Craig “

   I may be remembering it wrong but I think he even gave a courtly gallant little half bow, if he didn’t it certainly seemed that was the way it was, at that moment. No, I’m sure of it. It’s too vivid a memory for me to have created it.

Craig took my hand and said, (the formality of it all still resonates)

 ” Nice to meet you Sherry, I really hop e you will wait here, until I’m done, so after the show, so we can get to know each other. It won’t be long. Is that okay? I would really like that.”

A perfect gentleman. We might as well have been at an embassy ball.

    I think over the roar of the crowd and the amplifiers, in the darkness of the wings on the other side of the stage lights he must have seen me nod my head or say yes, or both, or neither.

And then he was back on stage, this grown –up, genuine guitar god. Who had chosen me?

    I didn’t know it then, but he wasn’t that  much older than I was. A teenage prodigy, a California skater boy, in his first big band, on one his first major tours. And such a lovely soul. Nothing but the best of memories, I couldn’t have asked for a nicer way or a nicer person for my introduction and indoctrination.

     I will never forget the stunned look on Nina’s face when I caught her eye on my way out, and she realized I wasn’t coming back out the magic portal and was instead pulling out of the Back Bay in the back of his limousine. I still really couldn’t believe it was all happening. I had no idea where we were going, or how I would get home or what would happen next. All I could think was I hoping she’s not pissed off I’ve still got her favorite coat.

     I was nervous on the ride, so as always I run my mouth and do my best to be charming and entertaining a flighty, chatty, bimbo-esce, empty-headed, goofy sort of way. I still do it, when I’m self-conscious, even though it’s a lot more charming at sixteen, than approaching sixty. Gracie Slick is in the front seat, with the driver meanwhile Craig and I, and a couple other people in the back. I didn’t know who they were, I didn’t know anything, at all really about the band and its members and its history, I only knew of Craig because his picture was a regular feature in fan magazine these days and his long black hair and amazing licks were pretty distinctive. Gracie , well even I knew what a big deal Gracie was, somehow , I had picked that much up, ,even n though I didn’t understand yet , exactly why. I  may not know much but I knew I was in the presence of rock and roll royalty. And as always, stupid me, I spent more time talking, than listening. After I nattered on for what seemed like forever with nobody else saying a word, Gracie threw her arm over the back of the seat and turned around and gave him a big grin and said…

” Where did you get this one Craig?

“She’s not bad at all.”

“I like her. She’s all right”

Even I in my ignorance and innocence knew immediately there was no greater seal of approval. It’s a moment and a validation, I will always treasure and I will never forget.

One day I’m going to get a tattoo, of a white rabbit, that says” Approved by Grace. 1978”

   In the morning he asked me if I could get home all right from there. I had no clue where I was or if I could but of course I said yes, I could probably take a cab or something. He gave me an autograph. I still have it, we had spent much of the night talking about his interest in UFOs and it was a line from one of the songs he had written for the next album he was very proud of, and two twenties for cab fare. I was embarrassed to take it, but it seemed like he might have been insulted if I didn’t, like it was an awful thing to do, to turn it down, just on principal, and besides I didn’t have a dime! And it seemed so sincerely offered, and he was so worried it may not be enough, and that I was sorted out. I assured him I was fine, knowing I was far from it. I was way out somewhere in Virginia, about a million miles from home, in a place I was completely unfamiliar with; I knew nothing about public transport, I might as well have been on mars! Now, I know taking a cab from crystal city to Rockville would have been about hundred and twenty dollars. But I didn’t worry about any of that I was still travelling on the wings of fate and I figured they would fly me home somehow, once it was all over, just as they had winging me into all this in the first place. Luckily it turned out there was a metro station only a block away. It’s my first time on it, but I was thrilled it was there when i found it. I went down into the lobby and sat down on a divan next to Gracie, I think I just needed a min or two to process it all, before I even attempted to deal with the fact I had no clue where I was, and wanted to wave goodbye to Craig as he pulled away for the airport before I headed off for home, wherever that was. She had the newspaper spread open in front of her looking at the entertainment section and was reading the review of the gig from the night before (I still have that too, I took the paper with me when I left) and there we sat, all mashed up together, leaning in, reading it at the same moment, sheltered and enclosed behind the open newspaper tent, cozy as old chums. She was not guarded at all or protective, she was really friendly and spoke to me like an equal, she was so open, and it was so intimate. It felt like a real moment, like i was seeing the real her. She had no need to put up a front or an act.

    The reviewer said she should have retired she was too old to rock and roll (at the ripe old age of about 38) even though he could find no  real fault with her performance. She was really hurt; I could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She couldn’t seem to understand why a stranger would say such cold and terrible things about her and the band and I think it wounded her, maybe not much, or for long, but at that moment .

   Now and forever, when I think of her, I don’t think of a rough and tough rock hard music goddess and a legend and a notorious bad ass, even though of course, back then I knew almost nothing about rock and roll. I still find out things about the people I met back then now that amaze me, who they were and what they meant that I never appreciated at the time. I think it was my ignorance that gave me the courage to treat them like regular people and not stars and went a long way towards my being accepted and allowed. If I knew who they were then, I never would have had the nerve to speak. She was all of those things, but most of she was just a girl, was trying to cope with getting older and starting over who sang her heart out the night before and who still cared enough to wake up after the show and the first thing she wanted to know how she did and if people liked it, who really cared what people thought and what they said and if they approved.

And as for that no –talent nobody who wrote it, I would still like to kick his ass.

And ask him, looking back at his life, what exactly is it that he has done?

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Some thoughts on your birthday. And what you taught ME about Life and Rock and  Roll

We are at the Hilton in Baltimore, line-up was some insignificant band supporting BOC, I forget who.  But it wasn’t The  Who, that’s for sure.  We had no interest in BOC, we were very young   then and they weren’t pretty enough for the infamous Sherry and Shari. Who weren’t infamous then, but were certainly working on it as fast and as furiously as we could. But we were really just little kids.

We were there to see the Hottest , Baddest Boys on the Rock Scene, the Raucous Rodeo Clowns and Rock and Roll Gods of the late seventies, VAN HALEN, who were also on the bill.

Alex had been terrorizing the lobby all afternoon. His favorite trick was to ride up and down in the elevator with an aerosol spray paint can, and every time the doors would open he would take a lighter and shoot a flaming fireball at the unsuspecting women and children trying to board. It was hilarious at 3 am. Not so funny at 4 in the afternoon.

The Miami dolphins were staying in the same hotel. They were infuriated at all the babes in the place were paying ANY attention to them. So they had taken to riding those huge rolling luggage carts drunkenly up and down the corridors begging for favors! HA! We were rock chicks. They didn’t stand a chance.

At last call Diamond Dave had decided that all the ancient, slutty, worn out local groupies at the party were pretty much the best of the bunch and all there was to offer and there would be no Malibu Barbie’s arriving anytime in the near future to answer his Rock God prayers so I was the lucky winner of that nights” Win a date with Dave” lottery.

As we went upstairs in the elevator at last call one of the guys in BOC says to Dave

” Robbing the ice cream parlors, are we now?” (I looked about 12 until I was thirty)

I had lost the other Shari hours earlier, no idea how, when, where or why (until morning) Turns out she and Eddie had disappeared way earlier. Evidently he didn’t wait for last call, or divine intervention, when he saw what HE liked, he WENT for it

So after several fabulous hours with just a gigalo, he says to me

” Hey babe, I’m pretty hungry, how about you go get me a couple burgers?

And hands me a couple of hundred dollar bills. This seems A Bit excessive to me, burgers being about two bucks each, and I thought it a TAD inconsiderate to send me OUT ONTO THE STREETS OF THE SLUMS OF DOWNTOWN BALTIMORE AT FOUR AM, but I’m a game girl, and didn’t want to be rude and  I was trying to be nice

(Looking back I wonder…… Hmmmm, I wonder if MAYBE, he was TRYING to GET RID OF ME! Lol  ! )

Nawwww   I’m sure he was just hungry after all that excitement. Well, I wasn’t  that excited. Dave was the kind of guy who thought the privilege of being with him was reward enough in itself  so even at my tender age i was pretty unimpressed. But he was. And surprised.

As I said, I was a lot older than I looked.

BELIEVE IT OR Not, I actually was so young and stupid I went out on the deserted streets in the dark in the murder capital of the nation, found a Jack in the box open at four am and came back WITH two burgers , both for Dave ( mustard and onions, I took a guess) and didn’t get myself ANYTHING, after all,   it was HIS money. And I forgot to ask if that would be okay! LOL

So I come back twenty minutes later and knock on the door…

He’s like” WHAT? “and I’m like…” back with the burgers” …

and he’s like… “SERIOUSLY? “

But he must have been hungry (or in a complete state of shock I returned instead of robbing him and heading off on my merry way) because instead telling me to fuck off he let me in and I was there until lunch time the next day. I guess the burgers gave him a second wind. When it was time to go I tracked down Shari, or rather Dave did; he knew I wasn’t leaving without her.   And he was dying to have me gone.

But to his credit, he ddidn’t have the chutzpah to come out and say so.  Or the lack of common decency to turn someone so young and naïve out on the streets AGAIN at five am so he could be left alone to sleep in peace. Although, I would have been like “OHHHHHH, WHY didn’t you just SAY SO? Okay. “

And we found her in Eddie’s room.  Still wearing the stockings and stilettos she had been sporting the night before, and nothing else, although a bit worse for wear and tear!

(Hey Valerie Bertinelli, don’t look so INNOCENT! I KNOW STUFF ABOUT YOU)

We had no idea how we are going to get home but when Eddie offered Shari a hundred dollar bill for cab fare ( much classier than Dave trying to trick me into sneaking out on him in the middle of the night) I finally put all the pieces together and how we laughed about how shocked ( and pissed off ) he must have been when i knocked on the hotel room door with the food.

And I decided that was the first and last time I was going to go off with a pretty boy with no brains and no real interest in me except as the the only decent option left on an off night. From now on, it was only going to be people I really liked,  and who really liked me back and wanted more than one night and  not me to be the kind of girl who would take the money and run.

ANY WAY…Happy Sixty th  Birthday  you rock and roll bad boy, From the Sherry Fairy

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Anyway there’s a lot more to tell but that’s another story for another time….

When THE BOYS COME BACK!

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One. NEVER GO TO A HEART CONCERT. What a disappointment! They are the biggest rip off in rock and roll (excusing Pete Dougherty but one would have to consider that mess music to add him.)

They sounded pretty good the whopping huge entire 68 minutes they actually spent on stage (which apparently made up their entire show) but it was the equivalent of sticking twenty quarters in the All Heart All Hits jukebox at some terrible 8os themed party you couldn’t find any way to get out of attending short of faking your own death with none of the thrills. Faking your own death would have been more fun and considerably less expensive .

For a rock and roll band to charge top dollar only to spend minutes over an hour onstage performing nothing but regurgitated radio hits most of which even the band themselves has said publicly” they hate and even they can’t stand to hear again” is an absolute outrage and an insult to their fans, a slap in the face to the people who have paid their paychecks all these years and loved and admired them, the public and their fans.

Or at least the ones old enough, sober enough, and who have been around long enough to see a band who actually cared about their audience, enjoyed performing and actually did it with great enthusiasm, if not brilliance and for a length of time in which the audience actually got their money’s worth.

They Rocked, don’t get me wrong Nancy looked and sounded great, but Ann was wearing such a huge wig I couldn’t even see her face the entire show and such monster six inch boots it could have been Gene Simmons under there for all I know lol  The worst part is that their act hasn’t changed a bit since I first saw them in 1978 and they are women in their 60s now. If that’s your excuse for robbing you fans of a show worth seeing why don’t you stop pretending to be 25, it’s kind of pathetic, take off the high heels, and gigantic heavy wigs, put some pancake on those wrinkles instead and sit down in a rocking chair something and give us at least a full one and a half to two hours BEFORE encores, of your stunning voices, beautiful music and gorgeous guitars. Then, if you like, indulge yourself and cash in on the popularity of someone else with a bunch of songs by Led Zep, a band we all love. I  hate to break to you, no matter how much you love them too you will never BE them and the only person I enjoy hearing play Led Zep songs is THEM. You know, the REAL Led Zep.

if all you really  want to do is show up, do the bare minimum you can possibly get away with take the money and run, after all, I hear it’s the latest thing with all the old washed up bands of the 70s and 80s these days, the least you could do is hire a special effects company that wasn’t my 7th grade prom committee and hire a decent warm up band,  so no one would waste their time and money thinking they were going to have a great evening out just to get on an hour of reheated you and a couple of led zep covers, which actually seemed like the only time you were having a good time all night. Did it ever occur to you that if your own show and playing your own music bores YOU, some changes might be in order? lol

If you are too tired or too lazy to stay on stage more than an hour  maybe the time has come for you to become a warm-up band as a nostalgia act for a young hot hungry band with some potential just getting started in the business who actually cares . Or someone worth paying top dollar for like the gig  that you played the next with a kick ass, vital, alive,  exciting in your face band that always gives you a big bang for your buck and truly leaves you dazed and confused when they rock and roll, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.

I believe you might even have something in common, and could learn thing or two touring with them as a warm up act since they are almost your age. So don’t you dare give us the excuse it’s okay because if you can manage to totter out on to the stage and do a half -assed job onto we should throw money at you and give you a standing ovation. There is no heart left in this band.

You made several disparaging remarks about the record company execs trying to control you and screwing up your band ( go ahead, blame ‘the suits’ for ruining rock and roll and your profits just like every other band going broke) but I’m warning you, before it too late, the main people ruining your career is you. And it wasn’t just this show evidently, from what I’ve learned, it’s always like that. What a shame. The were heroes to many women of my generation. They were Unique. N0w they are just the same tired old greedy rock and roll has- been act. What a disappointment.

TWO. Don’t go to Wolf Trap in VA by public transport unless you really live close to Wolf Trap.

The shuttle from the Metro is great. That is, if you don’t make the mistake of going the weekend the Silver line opened like I did.  Because the Silver line on the Metro goes closer to Wolf Trap all the unpleasant, burly, rude , typical for the  Metro employees have decided that shuttles actually GOES from the Silver line and not the Orange line as it always have.

I found this out the hard way, by going to the place on the Orange line where they were barricading the doors to where you get on the shuttle and snarling as they sent me back several stops to switch to the Silver line. When I got to the end of the Silver line I was told the Orange line guys had no idea what they talking about and that the bus would today and in perpetuity leave from the Orange line through the now locked doors I had been at a half hour earlier and I would have to take the matter with the lovely surly snarling gentleman who possessed the key. Thus doubling he cost of my trip.

The Wolf Trap Shuttle is really a good deal for five bucks it takes you straight from the ORANGE LINE pick-up to the show and back  but even with the Heart show ending at nine twenty we dint get to the subway until after 10: 15 so almost anywhere you have to go which isn’t within minutes once you get on the subway odds are good you will get stuck halfway home because all the public transport will have stopped after a show of any reasonable length and you have to take expensive cab ride home.That is if there happens to be one where you are at when the last bus or train  has come and gone.

I was lucky. There is a cab stand at the Shady Grove metro but it is still a thirty dollar ride home. I expected as much and had budgeted for it and had it been a better show I would not have gotten home infuriated at an even further waste of my money thanks to Hearts greed and indifference and the crappy public transport in the Dc area.

THIRD AND MOST IMPORTANT

Do not go on facebook when you plan on going somewhere new to get to a gig by public transport for numerous and excellent reasons.

Your idiot friends will not shut up so you can get offline until you are almost late for the bus you really need to take to be sure you actually get some place new you have never been before on time lol. This could result in the following ripple effect.

Instead of having time to get gorgeous and do your hair and make- up and find a fabulous outfit you will say What the hell, I’m just going to a gig by myself, I’m not even trying to go backstage who cares what I look like? And you will throw on the closest pair of sweatpants and a huge very dated band tee shirt from 1992 and race out of your house, forgetting your camera. WHEN you go back to get your camera you will get back to the bus stop right after your bus just left.  When you go back to get your camera, your may be stupid enough not to take extra batteries, but since you have plenty of time now having missed the important bus you really needed to be on, now you can enjoy the momentary joy of smug satisfaction for remembering in enough time to go back to your house and get six extra fully charged batteries and get back to the bus stop. Where you can chew your newly manicured fingers down to bloody stubs because now, even though it only 3:30 you are afraid you are going to be horribly late. Which will have been for nothing because though the Neanderthals that manage the subway screwed you over you still go there just in time to wolf down a nine dollar hot dog and a 15 dollar frozen strawberry daiquiri before the show starts.

HOWEVER because of this when you DO get recognized on the WT shuttle as the writer of the raucous  rock and roll memoir Even Rock and Roll has Fairy Tales and are they discover you are there to review the gig and the entire bus starts talking about it you will learn a very valuable lesson the very hard way. YOU ARE ALWAYS DOING PUBLICITY. Do not EVER leave the house even if it is on fire LOOKING LIKE THAT AGAIN! LOL

Four.  Don’t blow this part

When you pay sixty plus bucks to sit in the third row of a gig by yourself that you really didn’t care about enough about to spend thirty five bucks each to pay for a bunch of people to sit on  the lawn where you might actually have had a good time DESPITE the inferior quality of the entertainment  in order to concentrate on learning to use your camera better and improve your gig pic skills  by taking thousands of pictures WHEN you almost forget your camera and go back for it, or   MAYBE when you go back  second time to get fresh batteries you might want to CHECK AND SEE if the photo card is still in the camera or is in the computer, sitting at home. Guess where mine was? lol

Five. My phone, though actually charged AND working through some sort of miracle of divine intervention, takes really shitty pictures

Six. I am  officially TOO OLD to sit on the third row on a stadium gig without earplugs or going deaf.  excuse me, what was that you said?

Seven . Wolf  Trap gives away free ear plugs. Just ask the Ushers

 First the official description, then mine of the Show in Germantown Md

4th Annual Grateful Dead Meet-Up At The Movies – Beat Club 4/21/72

We’re brimmin’ with Bremen over at Dead.net! That’s right, the festivities surrounding the 4th Annual Meet-Up At The Movies: Beat Club 4/21/72 have started early for us. If you haven’t purchased your ticket for this one-night only event featuring the never-before-seen Beat Club studio performance in its entirety, restored from the original broadcast 2” quad video and audio mixed and mastered from the original analog tapes, let us set the scene with the official liner notes plucked from the sold out Europe ’72: The Complete Recordings boxed set.

4/21/72 Bremen

All that most of the world knows about the city of Bremen in northern Germany is that once upon a time, long ago, there were these four old animals—a cat, a dog, a donkey and a rooster—who left their farms in the countryside and headed towards Bremen, where they hoped to live out their days as musicians. Oh, wait—that didn’t really happen. That’s the old Brothers Grimm fairy tale, The Town Musicians of Bremen. Fast forward. When the Grateful Dead—which included a few cats, a bird and a pig—hit Bremen in the third week of April in ’72, the city was still a destination for traveling musicians, thanks to a popular television program that emanated from there, called Beat-Club.

Beat-Club was Germany’s first major rock ’n’ roll TV show, on the air monthly (or so) since September 1965 (through the end of 1972). Typically, each program would feature several acts, some shot live in the rather sterile Studio 3 of Radio Bremen, and others appearing on film or video supplied from elsewhere. Basically, everyone who was anyone in rock music in the late ’60s and early ’70s showed up on Beat-Club at one time or another—and so did a lot of acts no one in the U.S. has ever heard of! Typically, a band taping in Bremen for Beat-Club would have a song or two appear on the monthly program a few weeks later, and one suspects that most acts probably came to the studio with a good idea of what song(s) they wanted to highlight, and knocked it out quickly.

Ah, but things were a little different when the Grateful Dead rolled into town with their tie-dyed amps, their entourage of long-haired “family,” and their recording truck parked outside. Maybe the Dead knew that day that “One More Saturday Night” would be the song that would air on the May 27 edition of the Beat-Club program, but they sure didn’t act that way. Instead, after a sound check that included “Loser” and “Black-Throated Wind,” they played a remarkable 80-minute set that mixed short songs with big jamming tunes, including two charged versions of “Playing in the Band,” and a spectacular “Truckin’” > “Other One” sequence that is more than 30 minutes long. That the band could play this well in front of a bunch German TV technicians, rather than their usual sea of swaying and flailing hippies, is amazing. That it was all captured in crystal-clear close-up video is truly a gift from the Gods (and if there’s any justice in the universe, the Gods will someday allow that video to be released commercially).

But even studying the aural document is fascinating. For one thing, the sound is recording-studio-clear, with no venue ambience or crowd seeping into the mics. And it’s not just an ordinary show: Garcia only sings two numbers, Pigpen one, and Bob six. After Jerry casually says “we’re rolling,” Bobby shouts into the microphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Grrrrrateful Dead!” and the band kicks into “Bertha,” crisp and energetic, but marred by a couple of lyric flaws. Then comes “Playing in the Band,” which the group pulled out at every stop on the Europe tour, and was great every single night. Jerry is all over the wah-wah pedal during the middle jam, making it growl and cry and squeal. “Mr. Charlie” is just about letter-perfect.

That is followed by our first do-over of the day—a luxury afforded by the fact there is no audience and this isn’t a “concert” per se. About a minute into “Sugaree,” Jerry says, “Hold it, hold it. Somebody played the wrong changes in there” (cough-Pigpen-cough), so they start at the top again. A few tunes later, Bobby halts a second version of “Playing” after he blows the first line: “Some folks trust in treason,” he sings. (It’s not clear why they do “Playing” again, as the first version was excellent. But the one that comes after the flub is even better, with a more intense middle section and much mind-bending bass work from Phil. Maybe they were more warmed-up second time ’round.) The final song-stopping calamity comes on “Truckin’,” after Bob completely spaces his entrance to the first verse, leading to the band hilariously attempting a shutdown of the song that’s all discordant crashing and colliding instruments, like some catastrophic orchestra mishap in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Second time is the charm, though, and the group nails it and kicks off the long and exciting journey mentioned above.

“The Other One” that emerges from a short post-“Truckin’” drum solo by Billy is full of drive and fire, like snorting and snarling horses galloping through Germany’s mysterious Black Forest. But it’s the six minutes after the second verse of “The Other One” that I want to highlight. The band doesn’t seem to have any idea about what, if any, song they might play next (surely they were past their allotted taping time and the German sound and TV crew were wondering whether this jamathon was ever going to end), so the Dead just float from one musical notion to the next. Squealing feedback gives way to a brief lilting jam. At one point Billy clicks into a little groove and the others follow and it develops into one of those lovely passages that feels familiar but isn’t quite—are those hints of “Wharf Rat”? Is “Sugar Magnolia” around that bend? Instead they keep drifting about—Jerry gets into a hypnotic finger-picking pattern at one point—until it all just peters out. There’s a pause and then they suddenly build up one of their big, chaotic endings, which is a mess worthy of the laugh that follows it. And with that, the Town Musicians of Bremen were gone.

—Blair Jackson

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