FRANKLIN's
FIRST SHOW
FIRST
TIME ROUND
11/9/74
Alexandra Palace review
From:
Richard Tooth <rtooth@microsoft.com>
Alexandra Palace 11/9/74 was my
first Dead show. It was the usual story -
an unsuspecting rock fan goes to
see a new band and comes out with his brain
on a plate. I went on the
tube and came back "on the bus". My life changed
forever as I learnt to dance, rap,
tape, share, celebrate, and all that
annoyingly crazy stuff that deadheads
do. As the years went by I had to get
a job, cut my hair and even wear
a suit but the music never stopped. Mostly
I got real good at building cassette
racks. And the sound of that night
stayed ringing in my ears.
From the start it was clear that
this was no ordinary concert. The crowd
were a wild, hairy and spaced out
looking bunch happily sprawled across the
floor. The air was thick
with sweet smelling smoke - everywhere you looked
there were spliffs under construction.
And it was noisy as hell - catcalls,
yells and whistles echoed from
every corner as we waited for the band. The
hall itself was a huge barn with
a nearly empty stage at one end. The PA
was hidden behind a thin black
curtain that hung from the ceiling to the
floor. Shimmers of light
glinted from veiled speakers seemingly all the way
to the roof. The show was
incredibly late starting but no-one seemed to
care - time passed, the joints
kept circulating and the crowd continued
shouting enthusiastically at no-one
in particular.
Eventually the band appeared.
The sound was pretty rough and I couldn't
hear the words but the Deadheads
loved it nonetheless. The first hour or so
was OK but nothing special to my
untrained ears and I began to feel a
distinct outsider. I was
about to leave when I recognised Playing in the
Band - at last, a song I'd heard
before. The song finished but the band
kept going, spinning off into an
extraordinary instrumental jam that caught
my attention. The guitars
spaced apart in the mix and extraordinary bass
lines boomed randomly over the
top. The music seemed to melt until none of
them were playing the same song.
And it went on, and on, for over 20
minutes. I found myself being
sucked into it. "Wow. Will they play any
more like that?" I asked
as the band went off for a break. "Just wait"
the heads replied as they set to
work skinning up for the next set. I
decided to stick around.
You can guess the rest. I
was out to lunch by the time Phil Lesh and Ned
Lagin came on. The continuous
supply of herbal refreshment had taken it's
toll. I was ready for anything
but most especially wanted some more of the
weird stuff. They started
out with 15 minutes of electronic bleeping and
feedback noises - slow, strange
and confusing. I couldn't see the point
but the crowd went wild, enthusiastically
heckling and jeering them on.
Hey, if they were happy, I was
happy, so I joined in. One by one, the other
band members drifted back, picked
up their instruments and plugged in.
Instead of a song though, the noodling
just carried on, growing louder and
increasingly dissonant.
By now it was over thirty minutes
into the 2nd set and we hadn't heard
anything resembling music.
Alright! The cacophony receded until a
momentary lull when Phil Lesh struck
a huge chord that filled the hall. A
surge of energy swept through the
crowd which rose as one to dance, cheering
as the band finally launched into
a song. It was an electric moment. It
seemed as if the whole hall was
taking off - suddenly we were flying. I
still couldn't hear the words but
it didn't matter any more. The music that
followed was ethereal and quite
breathtaking. The song finished but another
jam spiralled onwards and outwards,
seemingly forever. Jeez, don't these
guys _ever_ stop? Time and
space went out of the window as 6 musicians and
5,000 fellow travellers collectively
stepped "outside".
An eternity seemed to pass until
a mournful Wharf Rat (relief, another song
I recognised) brought everyone
gracefully back to Earth. There was a second
short break and a third set to
send everyone home dancing. I staggered into
the night with my head still in
orbit, struggling to understand what I had
just witnessed. DP7 brought
back many memories but it didn't capture this
wonderful piece. We wrote
to Dick politely asking him to release this set
(OK, we begged) but he couldn't
help. So, huge thanks are due to David Gans
for finally making this possible.
There's little more that can be said
about the tape in words - you'll
have just have to hear it for yourself.
Enjoy :-)