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Chicago Tribune
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Chicago Tribune
It's been 30 years since the Grateful Dead's final concerts at Soldier Field in Chicago
The longest, strangest trip embarked upon by a rock 'n' roll band ended 30 years ago this week at Soldier Field. On Sunday, July 9, 1995, the Grateful Dead played what would be its final concert with its full lineup at the stadium — the harmonious echoes of 'Box of Rain' concluding a fascinating musical journey that began in May 1965 at a small pizza parlor in California and encompassed more than 2,300 shows. Coming just before a stifling heat wave engulfed the city, the Grateful Dead's two-night lakefront stand remains memorable for many reasons — some better off forgotten. While the sextet rebounded from a Saturday production that witnessed lead singer Jerry Garcia forgetting lyrics, flubbing notes and demonstrating clear signs of ailing health, the uneven closing show concluded what's now known as the 'Tour from Hell' — a trek haunted by uninspired performances, gate-crashing incidents, weather-related injuries, death threats and deplorable behavior from some fans. Take it from someone who was there: It was a bad scene. An anomaly, really, in the Grateful Dead's local history. Though the band's newest archival trove — 'Enjoying the Ride,' a 60-disc box set themed around the group's ties to select venues — spotlights what was then Deer Creek Music Center in Noblesville, Indiana, and Alpine Valley Music Theatre in East Troy, Wisconsin, to represent the Midwest, the Dead made Chicago its go-to base in the heartland. Far surpassing the number of its respective appearances in Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Detroit, Indianapolis, Kansas City and St. Louis, the Grateful Dead played some 70 dates in the Chicago area. Not included in that tally: The regrouped collective's three 'Fare Thee Well' shows in July 2015 at Soldier Field. Clever marketing lingo aside, nothing disguises the fact that the band ceased when Garcia died of a heart attack shortly after turning 53 in August 1995. Here are 10 of the most significant visits from a band that looms perhaps even larger today than during its existence. More than three years after forming, the Grateful Dead arrived for its Chicago debut at a bygone Uptown venue that hosted legends such as Led Zeppelin and The Who before they became massive. Freshly discharged from the Air Force, keyboardist Tom Constanten officially joined the collective earlier in the week. The Grateful Dead is nascent enough that no definitive setlist information survives for either show. Reporting on the second night for the Tribune's youth music column, Robb Baker amusingly observed: 'They have no good vocalist; their material itself is not that memorable (you don't go around humming Dead tunes); and it takes them forever to really get warmed up.' Ultimately, he succumbed to the band's eclectic charms and gave it a rave. The Grateful Dead returned to the same location the following January and again that April. A portion of the latter visit is documented on 'Dick's Picks Volume 26.' Mirroring the right-into-the-fire experience of his predecessor, Constanten, whose brief tenure ended in early 1970, keyboardist Keith Godchaux had one show under his belt when the Grateful Dead arrived for its second of a career total of four residencies at Auditorium Theatre. He was tasked with spelling the playing of beloved original member Ron 'Pigpen' McKernan, on hiatus due to health problems that led to his death in early 1973. Adding to the pressure? The Grateful Dead premiered an array of new tunes ('Tennessee Jed,' 'Comes a Time,' 'Jack Straw,' 'Mexicali Blues' 'One More Saturday Night' among them). And Oak Park radio station WGLD-FM broadcasted night one, which contained the final performance of the obscure ditty 'The Frozen Logger.' Godchaux, who stayed with the Grateful Dead until 1979, passed his test. Both concerts sizzled. The first, which prompted the Chicago Sun-Times to predict 'a revival for dance halls' and Tribune critic Lynn Van Matre to deem the band 'relaxed, yet very much together,' featured a 'St. Stephen'-led encore. The second, chronicled on 'Dave's Picks Volume 3,' sparked with a transcendent 'That's It for the Other One' suite. No regional Grateful Dead show witnessed more back-and-forth planning drama than the band's sole Evanston date. Daily Northwestern archives show that attempts to book the group began in April 1970. Efforts to land the band for the university's 1973 homecoming unfolded over several months. Debates pitted organizers against administrators fearful of issues related to security, safety, cost and behavior by non-campus attendees. Despite opposition from the dean and contractual uncertainty that stretched into mid-October, the student government — with a big assist from Jam Productions — secured the artist it wanted. Northwestern students paid $4.50, one dollar less than the public. But more money than the estimated 50 to 100 people who gained entrance by buying discounted admission from entrepreneurial kids who found untorn tickets discarded under the bleachers by a careless Jam attendant and re-sold them outside. Inside, amid Halloween decor and a capacity crowd, the Grateful Dead played four hours despite guitarist-vocalist Bob Weir reportedly feeling under the weather. Part of the show can be heard on the two-disc 'Wake of the Flood' reissue. The Grateful Dead's second and final concert at the now-demolished Canaryville arena marked the only local appearance of the band's complete, near-mythical Wall of Sound. The subject of 'Loud and Clear,' a brand-new book by Chicago-based writer Brian Anderson, the pioneering sound reinforcement system became as famous for its spectacular fidelity as its immense size. Because the 75-ton array proved incredibly labor-intensive and expensive to schlep from show to show, the group retired it in October 1974. In addition to marking the group's last area gig for nearly two years, this excellent mid-summer performance remains noteworthy for a collaborative interlude between Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh and Ned Lagin. The electronic composer experimented with Lesh nearly two dozen times using the Wall of Sound and released his quadraphonic 'Seastones' album on the group's record label. Garcia, Weir, Lesh and percussionist Mickey Hart's afternoon appearance at Rambler Room — a hybrid cafeteria/gathering space in the now-razed Centennial Forum on Loyola University's Rogers Park campus — doesn't technically qualify as a Grateful Dead show. But few Chicago dates harbor more intrigue than this impromptu 'Bob Weir and Friends' gathering. Seated in front of a hand-drawn Hunger Week poster, the band members performed acoustically together for the first time since 1970. They dug into chestnuts — Jelly Roll Morton's 'Winin' Boy Blues,' the traditional 'Tom Dooley,' the Memphis Jug Band's 'K.C. Moan,' Weir's 'This Time Forever' — the Grateful Dead never before or again attempted in public. The first rendition of 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door,' a Bob Dylan number the full group wouldn't play until 1987, anchored the set. After finishing with a romp through Buddy Holly's 'Oh Boy!,' the quartet headed a couple miles south to Uptown Theatre for its second show of a three-night run. Though the Grateful Dead usually kicked off the year in California or on the East Coast, Chicago got the honor in 1981 when the group launched its spring jaunt at Uptown Theatre — an architectural gem that still sits, decaying, awaiting its second act. The three-night run marked the Grateful Dead's sixth and final hurrah at the movie palace, which closed its doors for good that December. (Jerry Garcia returned in June with his namesake band.) Due to an intimacy and acoustic signature that would cause the balcony to vibrate from certain frequencies, Uptown Theatre quickly became known among fans as a magical spot to see the group. The feeling seemed mutual. In the span of 37 months, the band headlined an astonishing 17 shows at Uptown Theatre, which hosted the Grateful Dead more times than any local venue. A-list examples of early '80s Grateful Dead, these shows should be short-listed for the band's ongoing archival series. Relatedly, the group's Dec. 3, 1979 date at Uptown Theatre comprises 'Dave's Picks Volume 31.' As the Grateful Dead waded into the mid-'80s, the odds of catching a truly great show declined. Garcia, his disheveled hair increasingly gray, ballooned in weight and often lost a beat. The band shunned the studio, releasing no original albums between 1980 and 1987. Yet the concert vibes remained healthy and the scene mellow, free of the toxic misconduct that violated the Deadheads' unspoken 'do no harm' ethic after the group's popularity exploded in the late '80s. Plus, the group still channeled bursts of imagination. This pair of dates represents the Grateful Dead's only appearance at a welcoming outdoor venue that ultimately gave way to a new, far inferior option 60 miles away in Tinley Park. Too bad. Once a favorite among tape traders, June 27 saw the band scamper through one of the first performances of 'Hell in a Bucket' and lock into a fervent 'Scarlet Begonias' into 'Fire on the Mountain' coupling. The next evening sounded nearly equally on point and culminated with the New Orleans staple 'Iko Iko' unveiled as an encore for one of just three occasions in the group's career. Given these concerts capped the Grateful Dead's stellar 1990 summer tour, a trek that piggybacked onto a spring trek that stands as one of the most acclaimed in the band's history, they should evoke only joyous memories. As delightful as the performances remain, they are overshadowed by the death of keyboardist Brent Mydland — whose drug overdose on July 26 permanently altered the trajectory of the band and sent Garcia into a dark spiral — and nightmarish management. Frustrated with limited road access into the venue and impassable traffic jams, fans parked their cars on the highway and walked the rest of the way. Commercial truck traffic ground to a halt. State police closed westbound lanes on I-80 from I-57 to Harlem Avenue, and ordered hundreds of vehicles towed. Unaccustomed to large concerts in their area — World Music Theatre opened that June — neighboring residents also complained about the alleged invasion of Deadheads who cleaned out stores of certain supplies and foodstuffs. Then, there were the insurmountable shortcomings of the venue that, in the words of renowned Grateful Dead sound engineer Dan Healy, constituted 'the most awful sounding place I've ever heard in my life — it's beyond my wildest imagination.' Suffice it to say the band wasn't asked back. The Grateful Dead collaborated onstage in the '90s with esteemed jazz saxophonists Branford Marsalis, Ornette Coleman and David Murray on the coasts, the same regions its brief 1987 trek with Bob Dylan unfolded. Local fans starved for a similar treat lucked out at the first of the band's two-night Soldier Field engagement when opener Steve Miller joined the ensemble for four songs in the second set and an electrifying encore of Them's 'Gloria.' Extending the bluesy motifs, Chicago-based harmonica virtuoso James Cotton also guested on the latter number as well as on a smoky version of Sonny Boy Williamson's 'Good Morning Little Schoolgirl' and charged take of Bobby Bland's 'Turn on Your Lovelight.' Such location-cognizant nods and unexpected twists — which extended to a blaring train whistle during the psychedelic 'Space' sequence — confirmed the Grateful Dead could still surprise and awe, even in stadium settings. The Grateful Dead commenced its spring 1993 outing with a radiant 'Here Comes Sunshine' and didn't look back until its second-to-last residency at Rosemont Horizon concluded a few nights later. Reinvigorated with a batch of promising new songs ('Liberty,' 'Days Between,' 'Lazy River Road,' 'Broken Arrow,' 'Eternity') and eager to refine recent material road-tested a year prior ('So Many Roads,' 'Wave to the Wind,' 'Way to Go Home'), the band strongly suggested it had more to offer in its fourth decade together. And yet, bittersweetly, Garcia's beautiful, gospel-etched timbre and choice of poignant material — a somber 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door,' a spiritual 'Standing on the Moon,' a symbolic cover of Dylan's 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue' — indicated an acute awareness of endings and mortality. Both would wait. On March 10, the band stunned everyone with the rare, and final, 'Mind Left Body Jam.' At the finale, Chicago word-jazz poet and radio announcer Ken Nordine further shattered sensory perceptions by reciting 'Flibberty Jib' and 'The Island' during the 'Drums' into 'Space' improvisation. We never saw it coming. In other words, signature Grateful Dead. Then, and now, a band beyond description.
Yahoo
13-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Five Joyful Ways to Spend Time Online
This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. Welcome back to The Daily's Sunday culture edition. The internet is a choose-your-own-adventure place, but it can sometimes feel like too many roads lead to doomscrolling. In an effort to suggest more joyful destinations, The Atlantic's writers and editors answer the question: What's your favorite way to spend time online? In moments of chaos, I want to play The Sims. Lately, I've been playing it a lot. I've had various iterations of the game since I was a child, when there was such a thing as a 'computer room' and games were bought at Best Buy as very precious, very scratchable CD-ROMs. Give me the soothing, dulcet tones of the 'Create a Sim' music while I pick my Sim's new party outfit and personality traits (Art Lover, Nosy, Lactose Intolerant). Or the cheap thrill of having everyone at the same virtual table eat the same food at the same time (harder than you might think). Or the humble reminder that a kitchen stove can catch fire at a moment's notice. What better salve for reality than micromanaging other people's lives, in which there are truly no stakes? Even if that stove does catch fire, you can 'rosebud' your way to a better one. The cheat codes even extend life itself: I've turned off the game's aging feature because my Sims family has a dog, and I just can't deal with that right now. — Jinae West, senior podcast producer *** I never get tired of reading the YouTube comments beneath some of my favorite songs. I love to scroll through the missives, peering into the lives of strangers, as a song unfolds. So many digital forums are needlessly aggressive, but an earnest YouTube comment thread can briefly restore your faith in your fellow online humans like nothing else. People can get incredibly specific with experiences and memories—there's the man who said Creedence Clearwater Revival's 'Long as I Can See the Light' helped him survive more than 42 years in prison, and the person who said he'd listen to the song every morning in the shower before chemotherapy. More than a few of these comments concern life-changing moments: Under Wilco's 'Jesus, Etc.' video, two people talk of playing the song for their babies; beneath the Grateful Dead's 'Box of Rain,' someone shares that their grandfather asked them to put this on as he took his last breaths. I love that I will never meet these people, and that they're posting for the sake of posting—and, perhaps, to temporarily lift up their fellow web traveler. — John Hendrickson, staff writer *** We deify celebrities, often to a fault. First We Feast's Hot Ones proves that even if they wrote your favorite song, all must bow to hot sauce. The talk show, hosted by Sean Evans on YouTube, challenges guests to eat 10 chicken wings, each of which is spicier than the last. DJ Khaled made it to wing No. 3 before calling it quits; Ricky Gervais tapped out after wing No. 8. (In the latter's defense, his wing was topped with Da' Bomb: Beyond Insanity hot sauce.) It turns out that most people tell the truth when fighting for their life against hot wings. But Evans (whose years of hosting the show must have fried his taste buds) doesn't capitalize on their moment of weakness to probe for gossip. He asks interviewees about their inspiration or creative process, while also tossing in some trivia. More valuable than any one answer is how the show makes you see your idols. Every glug of milk and loud burp pushes them off their pedestal and into more relatable terrain. Scientists say we enjoy spicy food because it reminds us that we are alive. I enjoy Hot Ones because it reminds me that my favorite stars are real people too, and that they might be just as spice-averse as I am. — Amogh Dimri, assistant editor *** I spent most of my childhood accumulating mountains of collectible cards. Baseball, basketball, Pokémon: If it was printed on a piece of card stock, I wanted it. My interest in the hobby waned in my teens—who needs card stock when you can drive?—but as a 33-year-old, I've found myself reconnecting with the hobby, thanks to a new breed of online content creators who open packs of cards on camera. A favorite is ShadowlessRed on Instagram, who has been opening a Pokémon pack each day in search of a relatively unremarkable holographic card of an alienlike creature wearing what appears to be a space suit. The card he's after can be easily purchased online for about $30, making his nearly 500-day quest to find it both unnecessary and deeply financially irresponsible. And yet, I find the videos transfixing. There is something heartwarming about watching someone pursue something they're unabashedly passionate about—even if it's just a game for kids. — Nicholas Florko, staff writer *** I am aware that I could never enjoy living in a van, partly because it seems uncomfortable to be responsible for my own plumbing and partly because I think driving is way too dangerous. Yet I love watching other people live in vans. I particularly love a couple, Courtnie and Nate, whose last names I do not know, and a young woman named Abby who lives in her van by herself (but sometimes her dad visits!). Nothing soothes me like watching these people do their little chores and eat their little snacks and read in their little bunks. I do not envy them, because I reside in the greatest place in the world (Brooklyn), but sometimes I do feel a whisper of What if? The nomadic lifestyle is the opposite of mine in every way: The van people go to bed in their neat little bunk after doing their dinner dishes right away, and sometimes, they wake up next to a mountain or a beach. In my apartment, something always needs tidying, but I'm never tidying it, and I never wake up next to a mountain or a beach. Even though each van-life video basically shows people doing the same things over and over again, I'm always so happy to tune in. Some might say that the appeal of watching such menial repetitions is feeling a degree of control during a time when that feeling is hard to come by. Yes … I think I would also say that. — Kaitlyn Tiffany, staff writer Here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic: What the comfort class doesn't get Here are the places where the recession has already begun. 'Can I still teach my Yale course on racism?' The Week Ahead Sinners, a film by Ryan Coogler about twin brothers who return to Mississippi and come across evil forces (in theaters Friday) Season 2 of The Last of Us, a sci-fi zombie series based on the hit video game (premieres tonight on Max) Lower Than the Angels: A History of Sex and Christianity, a book by the historian Diarmaid MacCulloch about three millenniums of Christians encountering sex, gender, and the family (out Tuesday) Essay Dwyane Wade's Greatest Challenge By D. Watkins On a Sunday in October, a group of spectators gathered outside the Kaseya Center, the home of the Miami Heat. They sat in rows of chairs, arranged in a half circle. The crowd was there for the unveiling of a statue of Dwyane Wade, the superstar who had led the team to three NBA championships. I wasn't enough of a VIP to get a seat, so I found a spot on a gate during the unveiling, behind Wade and his family. I knew he had been anxiously awaiting the day. Read the full article. More in Culture A truly macabre White Lotus plot Jonathan Majors is looking for redemption. Will he find it? When your dream job is a lie 'Why I played the Kennedy Center' The late-night experiment that puts comedy first Reclaim imperfect faces, Sophie Gilbert writes. Catch Up on The confrontation between Trump and the Supreme Court has arrived. This is why dictatorships fail, Anne Applebaum writes. David Brooks: 'I should have seen this coming.' Photo Album Take a look at these photos of the week, which show flooding in America, the Grand National horse race in Liverpool, a stranded parachutist in France, and more. Explore all of our newsletters. When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
13-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
Five Joyful Ways to Spend Time Online
This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here. Welcome back to The Daily's Sunday culture edition. The internet is a choose-your-own-adventure place, but it can sometimes feel like too many roads lead to doomscrolling. In an effort to suggest more joyful destinations, The Atlantic 's writers and editors answer the question: What's your favorite way to spend time online? In moments of chaos, I want to play The Sims. Lately, I've been playing it a lot. I've had various iterations of the game since I was a child, when there was such a thing as a 'computer room' and games were bought at Best Buy as very precious, very scratchable CD-ROMs. Give me the soothing, dulcet tones of the 'Create a Sim' music while I pick my Sim's new party outfit and personality traits (Art Lover, Nosy, Lactose Intolerant). Or the cheap thrill of having everyone at the same virtual table eat the same food at the same time (harder than you might think). Or the humble reminder that a kitchen stove can catch fire at a moment's notice. What better salve for reality than micromanaging other people's lives, in which there are truly no stakes? Even if that stove does catch fire, you can 'rosebud' your way to a better one. The cheat codes even extend life itself: I've turned off the game's aging feature because my Sims family has a dog, and I just can't deal with that right now. — Jinae West, senior podcast producer *** I never get tired of reading the YouTube comments beneath some of my favorite songs. I love to scroll through the missives, peering into the lives of strangers, as a song unfolds. So many digital forums are needlessly aggressive, but an earnest YouTube comment thread can briefly restore your faith in your fellow online humans like nothing else. People can get incredibly specific with experiences and memories—there's the man who said Creedence Clearwater Revival's 'Long as I Can See the Light' helped him survive more than 42 years in prison, and the person who said he'd listen to the song every morning in the shower before chemotherapy. More than a few of these comments concern life-changing moments: Under Wilco's 'Jesus, Etc.' video, two people talk of playing the song for their babies; beneath the Grateful Dead's ' Box of Rain,' someone shares that their grandfather asked them to put this on as he took his last breaths. I love that I will never meet these people, and that they're posting for the sake of posting—and, perhaps, to temporarily lift up their fellow web traveler. — John Hendrickson, staff writer *** We deify celebrities, often to a fault. First We Feast's Hot Ones proves that even if they wrote your favorite song, all must bow to hot sauce. The talk show, hosted by Sean Evans on YouTube, challenges guests to eat 10 chicken wings, each of which is spicier than the last. DJ Khaled made it to wing No. 3 before calling it quits; Ricky Gervais tapped out after wing No. 8. (In the latter's defense, his wing was topped with Da' Bomb: Beyond Insanity hot sauce.) It turns out that most people tell the truth when fighting for their life against hot wings. But Evans (whose years of hosting the show must have fried his taste buds) doesn't capitalize on their moment of weakness to probe for gossip. He asks interviewees about their inspiration or creative process, while also tossing in some trivia. More valuable than any one answer is how the show makes you see your idols. Every glug of milk and loud burp pushes them off their pedestal and into more relatable terrain. Scientists say we enjoy spicy food because it reminds us that we are alive. I enjoy Hot Ones because it reminds me that my favorite stars are real people too, and that they might be just as spice-averse as I am. — Amogh Dimri, assistant editor *** I spent most of my childhood accumulating mountains of collectible cards. Baseball, basketball, Pokémon: If it was printed on a piece of card stock, I wanted it. My interest in the hobby waned in my teens—who needs card stock when you can drive?—but as a 33-year-old, I've found myself reconnecting with the hobby, thanks to a new breed of online content creators who open packs of cards on camera. A favorite is ShadowlessRed on Instagram, who has been opening a Pokémon pack each day in search of a relatively unremarkable holographic card of an alienlike creature wearing what appears to be a space suit. The card he's after can be easily purchased online for about $30, making his nearly 500-day quest to find it both unnecessary and deeply financially irresponsible. And yet, I find the videos transfixing. There is something heartwarming about watching someone pursue something they're unabashedly passionate about—even if it's just a game for kids. — Nicholas Florko, staff writer *** I am aware that I could never enjoy living in a van, partly because it seems uncomfortable to be responsible for my own plumbing and partly because I think driving is way too dangerous. Yet I love watching other people live in vans. I particularly love a couple, Courtnie and Nate, whose last names I do not know, and a young woman named Abby who lives in her van by herself (but sometimes her dad visits!). Nothing soothes me like watching these people do their little chores and eat their little snacks and read in their little bunks. I do not envy them, because I reside in the greatest place in the world (Brooklyn), but sometimes I do feel a whisper of What if? The nomadic lifestyle is the opposite of mine in every way: The van people go to bed in their neat little bunk after doing their dinner dishes right away, and sometimes, they wake up next to a mountain or a beach. In my apartment, something always needs tidying, but I'm never tidying it, and I never wake up next to a mountain or a beach. Even though each van-life video basically shows people doing the same things over and over again, I'm always so happy to tune in. Some might say that the appeal of watching such menial repetitions is feeling a degree of control during a time when that feeling is hard to come by. Yes … I think I would also say that. — Kaitlyn Tiffany, staff writer Here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic: The Week Ahead Sinners, a film by Ryan Coogler about twin brothers who return to Mississippi and come across evil forces (in theaters Friday) Season 2 of The Last of Us, a sci-fi zombie series based on the hit video game (premieres tonight on Max) Lower Than the Angels: A History of Sex and Christianity, a book by the historian Diarmaid MacCulloch about three millenniums of Christians encountering sex, gender, and the family (out Tuesday) Essay Dwyane Wade's Greatest Challenge By D. Watkins On a Sunday in October, a group of spectators gathered outside the Kaseya Center, the home of the Miami Heat. They sat in rows of chairs, arranged in a half circle. The crowd was there for the unveiling of a statue of Dwyane Wade, the superstar who had led the team to three NBA championships. I wasn't enough of a VIP to get a seat, so I found a spot on a gate during the unveiling, behind Wade and his family. I knew he had been anxiously awaiting the day. Read the full article. More in Culture Catch Up on The Atlantic Photo Album Take a look at these photos of the week, which show flooding in America, the Grand National horse race in Liverpool, a stranded parachutist in France, and more.
