But feel free to join me in the 85-est show that ever stomped the plains. Everything’s either too fast, too slow, or just plain wobbly; the transition between Gimme Some Lovin’>Stella Blue is the definition of “not even trying;” there is a Gimme Some Lovin’>Stella Blue.
For the entire show, the drummers are almost, but not quite, playing together. They also fuck up the ending to Samson so badly that Garcia almost, but not quite, wakes up. Also, Billy spends the first five minutes straight of Drums making bloopy noises on his talking drum.
There’s nothing enviable about this show, either: they’re in Philadelphia in November (which is always a rawboned and windy month) at the Community War Memorial Auditorium (which doesn’t even make internal sense.)
But Bobby loses his shit entertainingly on Throwin’ Stones, and he’s backed up solidly by Brent’s tinkly Fender Rhodes and there are no scarves of any sort, so…
Not all that good at all: just exactly perfect. 11/7/85 in Philly.