Latest news with #Dead
San Francisco Chronicle
12 hours ago
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
Grateful Dead's Shakedown Street goes legit for Golden Gate Park shows
As Grateful Dead veterans Bob Weir and Mickey Hart return to their spiritual home for Dead & Company 's celebratory run of shows in Golden Gate Park, the legendary Shakedown Street is once again setting up shop, this time with civic coordination. This year's incarnation of the free-spirited marketplace, which has followed the Dead since the 1980s, is scheduled to run from 10:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. Aug. 1-3, along a 200-foot stretch of JFK Promenade between Transverse and Blue Heron Lake drives. The location sits about a mile east of the Polo Fields, where Dead & Company is set to perform each day for an expected 60,000 fans, joined by special guests Trey Anastasio, Billy Strings and Sturgill Simpson. Longtime Deadhead and clothing designer Molly Henderson, a San Francisco native who previously organized markets for the band's shows at Oracle Park and the Sphere in Las Vegas, is leading the effort in partnership with Jay and Liora Soladay and Sunshine Powers, owner of Love on Haight. 'Shakedown Street is a part of the culture of the whole Grateful Dead scene. It's an integral part of the Deadhead experience,' Henderson told the Chronicle. 'It began during the counterculture movement. People created a way to barter their wares to make their way to the next city.' Now a sanctioned event, the market will feature nearly 100 vendors selling tie-dye apparel, handmade jewelry, vintage Grateful Dead merchandise, original prints, patches and collectible posters. Organizers collaborated with city officials and concert promoters to secure permits and minimize disruption to nearby neighborhoods. 'There were a lot of logistics involved,' Henderson said. 'The vendors are coming no matter what. Having a sanctioned, safe place for this to happen was a large consideration.' Auxiliary markets and events are expected to pop up across the city to mark the 60th anniversary of the Dead, including the Heart of Town concert series at Pier 48, Jerry Day in McLaren Park, and activations in the Haight and Sunset neighborhoods.
Atlantic
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
Before the Sphere, There Was the Wall
Picture yourself at a concert. If you're standing by the soundboard, usually near the rear center of the venue, you'll enjoy the best possible version of the band's performance—what the 'sound guy,' whose job it is to make everything coalesce inside the room, hears. But if you step away to grab a beer and end up watching from a different place, you'll hear something else. At an outdoor show, the experience is even more varied, because of the open acoustics and elements such as wind, which break up sound waves. Far too often, the song you've waited all night for may finally reach your ears as a distorted puddle. How does a band ensure that it sounds like the most pristine version of itself, no matter where the show takes place or where the audience listens? In the early 1970s, the Grateful Dead tried to solve this dilemma with the help of their on-again, off-again sound engineer, Owsley 'Bear' Stanley, who conceptualized one of the boldest innovations in music history: a literal 'wall of sound.' On hits such as the Ronettes' 'Be My Baby,' the music producer Phil Spector had famously created a figurative wall of sound by layering instruments and orchestral sweeps. But the Dead's wall was essentially a behemoth sound system, a hulking electrical mess of amps, speakers, wires—like the menacing heavy-metal rig in Mad Max: Fury Road, but far larger, louder, and, perhaps, more ludicrous. The grand idea was both utopian and egalitarian: The wall placed virtually every piece of technology needed for a live show behind the group, allowing the crowd to hear precisely what the Dead heard as they played. The wall, the journalist Brian Anderson writes in his new book, Loud and Clear, 'weighed as much as a dozen full-grown elephants' and 'stretched the length of a regulation basketball court.' At each tour stop, roadies would assemble the nearly 600 speakers that, when operable, stood at about the height of a small apartment building and sounded 'as loud as a jet engine at close range.' During outdoor shows, fans could be up to a quarter mile from the stage and still hear Jerry Garcia's guitar runs with depth and clarity. But a relatively short time after its creation, the complexity and expense of maintaining the wall catalyzed the band's first serious brush with burnout—and, Anderson argues, played a factor in its hiatus. In trying to shorten the pathway from instrument to eardrum, the Dead's wall had simultaneously created a host of previously nonexistent issues. On paper, the wall was a tool to expand the scope of their sky-reaching jams; more than any of their rock contemporaries, the Dead were known for extended, full-band improvisation. But relying on engineering in order to achieve a perfect sound brought a new set of anxieties: Because there was frequently some glitch with the wall, the band was often held back from reliably playing at its best. Stanley helped the Dead reach a new stratosphere of live performance, but he also established an impossible standard—one the band couldn't measure up to. Grateful Dead fandom invites—and thrives on—obsession. Though the Dead's jam-band sound is undoubtedly groovy, many of its songs concern heavy themes such as life and death. There's a deceptive weight to their songs, even when the tunes feel bright; the music is an ongoing search to unlock something hidden in the recesses of your mind. Though the band has a wonderful collection of studio recordings, the real juice is in the live stuff: the thousands of concerts performed over dozens of years, with a different set list every night. There's a lot to get lost in, and from their early days as a touring band, the Dead won legions of stoned and tripping devotees. Anderson's book, though, is dizzying in a different way: It's a detailed, almost show-by-show breakdown of the band's live performances across its first decade (roughly 1965 to 1974), augmented by insider stories. Readers meet not only Stanley but also other engineers, roadies, and crew members who worked long hours under difficult conditions to help the Dead put on incomparable shows. (Many of the roadies also relied on, according to one band member, 'mountains of blow.') But undergirding this occasionally exhausting narrative effort is a tale about the tension between innovation and hubris. The wall was, in a sense, a physical manifestation of a brainiac's acid trip; after Stanley took LSD at a legendary Dead show at an upstate–New York speedway, Anderson writes, he believed that he could weave an unbreakable connection between the wall, the band, and the crowd. His acid-tinged goal with the wall was 'hooking it up to a whole sea of people like one mind,' he said. For years, most other bands had played the same way in concert: with instruments connected to amps, and amps and vocals running through the house PA. Even when traveling with their own sound guy, they'd still be beholden to each venue's setup—unless they toted all of their own gear, which just wasn't realistic. The wall, in theory, allowed for both top-notch sound and show-by-show consistency. In practice, though, it was an unwieldy nightmare. Speakers often blew out or failed mid-show. Stanley drifted in and out of the band's orbit; other engineers and roadies expanded on his original visions. All the while, maintaining the rig became more convoluted: The band kept booking larger venues, thus requiring more sonic power, more crew members, and more attention to detail. Peak functionality was far from guaranteed, and Anderson convincingly makes the case that many early versions of the wall sounded better than the 'official' wall shows in 1974, because the smaller scale allowed for relatively more control (though it was far from an efficient process; early iterations could still take five hours to set up and another five to break down). Within the band itself, the wall was divisive. Bassist Phil Lesh called the wall 'apocalyptic,' but also compared it to the 'voice of God.' For him, the wall allowed for 'the most generally satisfying performance experience of my life with the band.' Bob Weir, who sang and played guitar, called the wall 'insane' and 'a logistical near impossibility.' Drummer Bill Kreutzmann, according to Anderson, said it was a 'creature that was supercool to look at, but impossible to tame.' And Garcia, it seems, would have been fine keeping things a little more down-to-earth. At the wall's official debut, on March 23, 1974, technical difficulties led to Garcia's guitar volume plunging moments into the first song. When you listen to this show today, the beginning sounds, well, kind of crappy. In the end, the Dead played only a few dozen shows with the fully built-up wall, as the cost and draining elaborateness of touring with the device eventually became too much. At the end of 1974, the Dead downsized its crew and, in Garcia's words, 'dumped' the structure. When they hit the road again almost two years later, their sound setup was more practical—in essence, sacrificing the perfect for the sustainable. They remained road dogs until Garcia's death in 1995, and have kept offshoots of the band rolling along since. Though I never saw the band perform with Garcia—I was 7 years old when he died of a heart attack—I've seen its different configurations over the years. Last summer I saw Dead & Company play as part of their residency at the Sphere in Las Vegas. That night demonstrated the clearest and most all-encompassing live sound I'd ever experienced. Most people have heard about the Sphere's mind-bending visuals and mondo LED screens; fewer may realize that it also contains 167,000 individual speakers (including in each seat). Though I was able to lose myself in the show, a very real part of me almost would have preferred hearing these same songs outside in the sun, in an uncontrolled setting, where any number of variables—the breeze, a storm, air pressure—might have affected the sound. Imperfection can feel just as right, in a different way, as technical perfection. It's freeing to accept that something might always be a little off, no matter the herculean effort; the Dead seemed to accept this too. Anderson's book makes a compelling argument that reaching for total audio domination was—and is—a noble endeavor, albeit one rife with pitfalls. But even the most advanced rig in the world doesn't necessarily make the songs any good. That much is up to the band.
Yahoo
08-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Dead By Daylight Teases New Crossover With The Walking Dead
The acclaimed asymmetric multiplayer experience has become somewhat infamous for its crossovers in the horror genre, and now, Dead by Daylight has sunk its teeth into another. Announced on Twitter, the official Dead by Daylight account posted an iconic image that fans of Robert Kirkman's seminal graphic novel—or AMC's long-running adaptation—will recognize right away. However, for those who may be unaware, the image was clear to point out that it is a collaboration with The Walking Dead. However, details at this moment are sparse, and the post does specify fans would have to wait until July 8th, 2025, for more information. If the reveal is like many of Dead by Daylight's previous collaborations, players could likely see some of the series' beloved characters as Survivors, and its most dangerous foes as Killers—Neagan would seem an obvious go-to in this regard. The announcement follows yet another highly requested Dead by Daylight collaboration, specifically with Five Nights at Freddy's, with the inclusion of both the dilapidated pizzeria as a location, Springtrap as a Killer, and even a surprise costume featuring Matthew Lillard. Behaviour Interactive put an extensive amount of work into paying homage to the series' deep lore while also building a believable environment, so it stands to reason they'll do the same with The Walking Dead. It's amazing to see how far Dead by Daylight has come since its humble beginnings in 2016. Following the successful model of asymmetric multiplayer horror set by games like Friday the 13th: The Game—though releasing before it—the game has far outlasted any other entries into the genre and seen monumental success. Not only has it featured collaborations with iconic horror film franchises like Scream, Child's Play, and A Nightmare on Elm Street, but it's even featured characters from Silent Hill, Resident Evil and Castlevania.
San Francisco Chronicle
08-07-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
Dead & Company, Outside Lands bring weeks of closures to Golden Gate Park
San Francisco's Golden Gate Park is gearing up for a packed summer concert season, prompting a wave of closures that will reshape access to much of the park for nearly a month. From late July through August, Another Planet Entertainment will host a series of large-scale concerts, including a three-night run by Dead & Company from Aug. 1-3 marking the 60th anniversary of the Grateful Dead, its annual Outside Lands festival from Aug. 8-10 and a one-night performance by Zach Bryan and Kings of Leon on Aug. 15. The Polo Field, the primary concert venue for the summer events, will be off-limits from July 23 to Aug. 20. Lindley Meadow, Hellman Hollow, Marx Meadow and several other open spaces will close on staggered dates through mid-August. Middle Drive, a key east-west artery, will be closed to vehicles for the full stretch of the concert series. Portions of John F. Kennedy Drive will also be shut down — not just to cars, but also to pedestrians and cyclists — from July 29 to Aug. 18. The closures coincide with a flurry of performances, including Sturgill Simpson (performing as Johnny Blue Skies) for the Dead celebration, and festival performers Beck, Doja Cat, Hozier and Tyler, the Creator. Additional detours will impact bicycles and cars, with Martin Luther King Jr. Drive limited to one-way traffic on non-show days and fully closed during concerts. Organizers say the extended timeline allows for the reuse of infrastructure between events. Permit fees — including an estimated $750,000 from the Aug. 15 show alone — will help fund park maintenance and public programming.
Chicago Tribune
03-07-2025
- 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.
