A

This episode of Tales from the Lot is sponsored by Shakedown T shirts.com with unique lot style T shirts, license plate frames, coffee mugs and all sorts of things for Grateful Dead, Fish Zappa, Panic and more. ShakeDownT shirts.com where all US orders over $35 ship free. And just for Tales from the Lot listeners use the code Lot20 for 20% off of any order. That's Lot 2 0. Tales from the Lot Trucking Through Time Part 2 if you're just joining us for this series, you picked a hell of a time to hop the bus. We're in part two of this six part deep dive. And last time we talked about the primal years, the neon drenched heavy feedback. I hope we don't get arrested at the acid test years. But today, today we're talking about the years 1970 through 1974. And to a lot of us, this is the Holy Grail. If the 60s were about breaking the rules, the early 70s were about rewriting the entire book on American music. This is the era where the Grateful Dead went from being a San Francisco curiosity to a goddamn institution. I didn't see any of these shows in 72. I was still a dream. But by the time I caught my shows between 91 and 95, the scene was a very different beast entirely. We had giant stadium screens, MIDI guitars that sounded like flutes, and way more security. But even then, standing in the back of the field of Deer Creek or the darkness of the Rosemont, you could feel a ghost of that era. You'd hear the first few notes of Jack Straw and the entire crowd would exhale like they were finally home. So grab a cold one or a rolled one. Find a comfortable spot. Let's talk about the five years that defined the Dead. If you were a fan in 69, you probably expected the next Dead record to be a 60 minute drum solo recorded inside a thunderstorm with guitar feedback for flavor. Instead, the band walked into the studio in 1970 and invented Americana. They released Working Man's Dead in June and American Beauty in November. Think about that for a second. In one year, they dropped two of the greatest albums and modern music history. Most bands take four years to release a single with a guest artist. The Dead just casually redefined their entire identity Twice in six months. They traded the fuzz boxes for acoustic guitars and pedal steel. They started singing harmonies, real harmonies. I mean, you know, they weren't Crosby, Stills and Nash, but the intent was there. And this was the peak of the Hunter Garcia writing partnership. We got Casey Jones, Sugar Mag, Ripple, Friend of the Devil. These weren't just songs. They were myths. It sounded like they'd been plucked out of the dirt in 1880 and polished up for the hippie generation, made them accessible. You could finally play a Grateful Dead record for your parents without them calling an exorcist. By 1971, the bus was rolling fast, and it was starting to hit some bumps. This was a year of massive transition. Mickey Hart left the band for a few years, leaving Billy as the sole drummer. Now, I love the Mickey Billy Rhythm Devils era, but there is something so incredibly swinging about Kreutzman back there by himself. The music got leaner, it got jazzier. They could turn on a dime. We also saw the arrival of Keith Godshaw on keyboards. Keith brought this beautiful rolling grand piano sound that fit perfectly with the new cowboy songs Bob was starting to churn out. But 1971 also saw the beginning of the end for Pigpen. His health was failing. You can hear it on the tapes. It's heartbreaking. Pigpen was the guy who taught them how to be a band, and now the band was outgrowing the very blues rock foundation he'd built. Everyone knows where this leads, but in 71, they were still fighting to keep that soul alive while the music was hurtling toward the cosmos.

B

For decades, America's touring musicians, nomads, and suspiciously barefoot men named Rain have faced one important question.

A

Bro, you got a couch I can crash on?

B

Introducing Couch Tour, the nationwide couch sharing network designed specifically for musicians, your cousin's friend, and mysterious dudes that are just heading west. Need a place to stay after the show? Looking for a living room floor within stumbling distance of the venue? Need somewhere safe to store your didgeridoo and emotional baggage? Couch Tour has you covered?

A

Yeah, man, I got a futon, a Hot Wheels beanbag chair, or a loveseat available. You cool with marmosets?

B

Are the marmosets cool with me?

A

We'll find out.

B

With thousands of verified hosts nationwide, you can search by couch firmness, incense intensity, and dog friendliness. And don't miss our new app feature offering toggle switch option for host will talk to you or not. So whether you're chasing concerts, following your dreams, or simply avoiding responsibility, download Couch Tour today because every couch has a story, and some are still being created. Couch Tour. Sleep anywhere. Explain nothing.

A

Then came 1972. The centerpiece, of course, is the Europe 72 tour. The man packed up their wives, their kids, their roadies, and enough supplements to tranquilize a whole pod of blue whales, and they headed across the pond, they played 22 shows in two months. And they were playing at a level that shouldn't be humanly possible. This is where the jam really matured. You'd have a dark star melt into El Paso. That shouldn't work, but it magically does. They were telepathic. And it wasn't just the long jams. The short songs were perfect, too. Jerry's tone in 72, forget about it. It was like liquid sunshine, but amidst the glory of London and Paris. Pigpen played his final show at the Hollywood bowl that June. He passed away in early 73. It was the first time the family really felt mortality. They kept moving because that's what they did. But a piece of the original fire went out with Pigpen. In 73, the band decided that being the most successful touring act in the world wasn't enough. They also wanted to be their own record label and their own tech company. So they formed Grateful Dead Records because they were tired of the suits at Warner's telling them what to do. They released Wake of the Flood, which brought in these gorgeous, jazzy arrangements. And if 1970 was the porch, 73 was the observatory. This is a year of Eyes of the World. If you want to hear the Dead at their most fluid, listen to a 73 eyes. It's effortless. It's also the year they started tinkering with the sound system. Most bands at the time were happy if the speakers didn't blow up. The Dead wanted to hear a pin drop in the back of the arena. However, they were spending every cent they made on speakers. We made a million dollars. Great. Spend it all on magnets and wire. And that brings us to 74 and the year of the Wall of Sound. For the uninitiated, the Wall of Sound was a three story tall, 75 ton monster PA system. Speaking of buying speakers, this thing had 600 speakers in it. It was designed so the band could hear exactly what the audience heard. No monitors, just a massive, crystal clear wave of sound. It was a brilliant piece of engineering and a total logistical nightmare. It required two stages. Because it took so long to set up, they actually had to have an entirely separate crew just to handle the scaffolding part of it. Musically, 74 was deep space. The jams got weirder, longer, more experimental. This is the year of the Weather Report suite and those playing in the band, excursions that could last 45 minutes. But by October, the wheels were coming off. They were exhausted, the money was gone. The wall of sound was literally crushing the crew's spirits. So they decided to call it quits, or at least take a hiatus. So they played five nights at the Winterland in San Francisco, filmed it for the Grateful Dead movie, and then walked away. At the time, people thought it was over. But we know better, don't we? You can't kill a ghost, and you certainly can't stop a freight train just by saying you want it to stop. When I look back at my time following the band, I realize we were all chasing the ghost of that early 70s era. We were looking for the moment where the music becomes bigger than the people playing it. 70 through 74 gave us the map, gave us the songs that became the choir books for our little traveling church. It was the era that they proved you could be a bluegrass band, a rock band, a jazz fusion group, and a traveling circus all at the same time. So that's our look at the golden era. But don't go too far next time. We're heading into 75 through 79, the bus comes out of the garage, Mickey returns, they head to Egypt, and they finally hit the mainstream. Kind of I'm Will this has been Tales from the Lot. Thanks for listening, friends. Keep your tires aired up and your microphone umbrellas handy. See you next time. Hey, thanks so much for tuning in. If you enjoyed what you heard today, please consider hitting the subscribe button and leaving a comment. Your feedback and engagement really goes a long way to supporting and growing the show. And really the this is your show with your stories. So if you have a story or even a few of them from seeing Grateful Dead shows or experiences of how the band has impacted your life in some way, I'd love to hear from you and have you on. My email is willsfromthelot.org Reach out or you could use the new text me feature that's in the show notes. You can easily reach out and connect with me directly that way. And don't forget to follow on Facebook for updates and exclusive content. And for those who prefer watching, full videos of every episode are available on my YouTube channel. So thanks again and please be kind to yourself and others.