The Miami Dark Star Show

Thirty years ago today, the Grateful Dead ended what was arguably their best tour of the 1980s. What began in Hampton, Virginia 18 days before with two unannounced shows that included the reintroduction of foundational songs like Dark Star, Attics of My Life, and the return of the three-part suite of Help on the Way > Slipknot > Franklin’s Tower then traversed up I-95 for five nights in East Rutherford, New Jersey (including a no-doubt-about-it candidate for show of the year on Weir’s birthday), down to Philly for a three-night run that found the band commenting on an earthquake that hit their home town of San Francisco, to a quick two night stint in Charlotte, had landed at the water’s edge in Miami. 

Much has been written about what happened on that final night - murmurings of dark energy that caused fans to flee the arena, itself parked in a dicey part of town, and we will get to that, but the hints of anything other than a capable ending to an exceptional three weeks of music were not present when the band opened with a cheerful version of Foolish Heart. This late-era addition to the band’s repertoire was still finding its place within the set list but Weir’s cover of Little Red Rooster offered a counter point to the show opener’s upbeat tempo. Brent Mydland’s verse turn and B-3 leads gave the song a menacing tone and Garcia’s selection of Stagger Lee - a revenge tale with a bad ending - picked up on the theme. Weir’s cowboy combo of Me and My Uncle > Big River offered more tales of loss and duplicity with a rollicking beat and frisky interplay among the musicians. 

After a perfunctory Brown-Eyed Women the band took up Victim or the Crime, the point at which many people who have written about the Miami Dark Star show point to as the guidepost for the insanity to come. To be sure, Victim which, like Foolish Heart, was a song the band was still figuring out musically (they would receive a fair amount of criticism for playing it immediately after midnight on January 1, 1990, essentially heralding the new decade with a downer of a song that freaked people out) but its weirdness was already well-established. This night would be no different, with nearly two minutes of spacey feedback that lands on a breezy version of Don’t Ease Me In. It was as if the band was giving the audience a taste of its power without overwhelming it. 

Whatever restraint the band showed in closing out the first set was nowhere to be found when they waltzed out to some brief Finniculi tuning and then plowed into a muscular version of Estimated Prophet, in a rare second set opening position. Here, we see the band in peak fighting shape, a sharpened blade of musical force honed over the dozen shows that preceded it, every lead landed, every musical handoff flawless, with a splash of Healy-inspired vocal creepiness as another bread crumb of whatever psychic vibe was passing through South Florida. The outro jam led into Mydland’s signature tune Blow Away, a divisive song among Heads at the time and one that the manic-eyed keyboardist performed with an intensity that could only come from a source of pain and anguish, which made sense, considering the song was about his crumbling marriage. 

At this point, things come to a bit of a halt. This would be the first and only time the band opened a second set with Estimated > Blow Away and the extended pause taken to consider their options suggests they might not have been entirely sure what to do. That they chose Dark Star was fitting. This iconic song had been in mothballs since 1984, but the band’s revival of it at the beginning of the East Coast tour in Hampton became a touchstone for the legend that grew around this five-city romp. The Hampton version was strong although not overly ambitious, as if the band wanted to make sure it had a proper foundation before stretching it out to celebrate Weir’s 42nd birthday in New Jersey seven days later. Each of these three versions is revered for different reasons, but the words most associated with the Miami Dark Star are some iteration of “out there.” 

The band’s performance is strong from the start. The musicians’ confidence in both the melody and the detours they could take to explore different themes is evident soon after the two minute instrumental melts into the first verse. Garcia sets the tone with various MIDI-influenced notes that his band mates circle around and comment on. And just as it appears the jam might flag, the band segues back toward firmer ground, finding the second verse in a way that might leave you thinking perhaps they had decided to cut the proceedings short, but it is then that the real freak show begins. 

For the next ten minutes, the band engages in what one reviewer called a sonic drive by shooting, as if they were unloading every creepy sound effect and negative piece of energy that had been stored within their beings. It is at best uncomfortable to listen to, and at worst, a hair raising aural adventure that I can understand people walking out on (especially if they were dosed). It is more than a simple Space, less benevolent and experimental and more hostile and aggressive. This Dark Star is not meant to be tripped out to, it is meant to be freaked out on - a direct challenge to the listener to see how much they can take. The tone is unremitting and unrelenting, loud, ugly, and in your face. 

To call it white knuckle listening does not do full justice to the musical carnage that the band leaves in its wake. Clocking in at nearly thirty minutes, the entire version is exhausting and the Drums > Space that follows suggests the band needed to catch its collective breath. Even The Wheel that rounds the bend toward home is modest, while Watchtower picks up the intensity level, that too is short-lived. Garcia’s reading of Stella Blue is traditional, with a few lovely, shimmering leads as the song builds to its conclusion. The set closes with a free spirited (albeit MIDI-heavy) Not Fade Away that cleanses the palate, as if the windows were opened to air out whatever dark forces still remained. The band ended the night spiritually with We Bid You Goodnight, another Hamptons “bust out” that had not been heard live in almost two decades. The mellow vibe and a cappella rendering providing a final salve of redemption and call for love during a night when neither was in much supply. 

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