Listen, I’m just gonna come right out with it: I truly never need to hear the Grateful Dead’s origin story again. Now, J&G have told the story well and made it fresh via the addition of voices not heard before (this will be an ongoing theme, I hope), but holy shit, if I gotta hear about that fucking dictionary one more time, I’m going to lose it.
Did you know that if you jam 500 people into a hall with a sound system built by speed freaks and give them acid, then the party will be memorable? Did you know that Bill Graham once tried to fix Garcia’s guitar? And Los Angeles and being cowboys and being naked and whatnot? These are the sacraments of the Grateful Dead Origin Story liturgy.
Also: the sixties–at least the little part of the world we know as The Sixties®–were a macho kind of time, for all their equality this and community that. The new paradigm the hippies were always talking about was an implicitly male one, where women’s value was talked up but they were still cleaning their old man’s shorts.
GRADE SO FAR: UNCLE BEN GETS SHOT BY A CRIMINAL PETER COULD HAVE APPREHENDED EARLIER