By: Garrin Benfield

Furthur Festival :: 05.28.10-05.30.10 :: Calaveras County Fairgrounds ::
Angel’s Camp, CA

Phil & Bobby by Susan J. Weiand

Arriving at the site of the Furthur Festival, I wondered why it had been so long
since the previous Mt. Aire gathering. The setting is classic Northern California –
rolling golden hills punctuated by groves of oak trees, miles of free form campgrounds,
and a lovely grass concert bowl. Clearly the one narrow, congested road into the grounds
could be a major temporary inconvenience to local residents, but it seems the revenue
generated by this mostly supremely mellow, polite crowd would easily offset any
frustrations. Once inside, things mostly ran like clockwork, and the 10,000 or so
gathered were treated to an intimate, bucolic weekend of rock ‘n’ roll.

Perhaps as a nod to those who thought the notion of Furthur
announcing it would perform six Grateful Dead records a bit, shall we
say, antithetical to the Dead ethos, the first night’s “sound check” featured a circuitous
setlist heavy on classics but not tied to any particular era. An inspired “Eleven” opener
gave way to one hell of a set that was dialed in from the get-go. I was struck right away
by the detail of the mix that allowed every instrumental voice to be heard with clarity
and volume. As a full moon rose over the early arriving crowd, the band patiently made
it’s way through a full one-set show, clearly surprising many who were not sure what to
expect from this first evening. Personal highlights for me included John Kadelecik
quoting Trey’s “First Tube” during a heavy “Let It Grow” and Bobby delivering a
stately “Standing On The Moon,” proving the old adage that “if at first one does not
succeed…” Satiated, we all slowly made our way back to the campgrounds, which were
still springing to life in the chilly darkness.

Dan Bern

On Saturday, I wandered over to the Acoustic Stage and caught a beautiful set by Mark Karan and
Friends. While I was there they played an assortment of leftfield covers by
Townes Van Zandt, Randy Newman and the Dead. I had never seen Karan in this context and
he really shone, singing and playing with sensitivity and conviction – a lovely way to
ease into the day. On the Sunshine Stage, Dan Bern delivered
newer songs with his usual incisive, sardonic wit, backed by his new project, Common Rotation.
I’m happy to see Dan on the road again, and especially pleased to have his uncompromising
insights floating about the sometimes pollyana-ish jam scene. Next, James Nash, Joe
Kyle Jr. and the rest of a temporary Waybacks lineup
brought their absolute A-game to the sweltering afternoon, pleasing those perhaps
unfamiliar with their own material with masterful versions of “Dupree’s Diamond Blues” and
“Shady Grove.” These guys are virtuosos with real heart and soul.

What was exciting me most about Furthur’s first “classic albums” sets was the tunes I’d
never seen performed live, or in some cases had never seen the light of day at all.
Oddly, the first half of the American Beauty set, comprised of songs these guys
have played hundred of times, was stiff and a bit rusty. This trend continued into the
first rarely performed song, Pigpen’s “Operator,” this time sung tentatively by
Phil. Happily things warmed up significantly with JK’s reading of “Candyman” (who
can resist “Hand me my old guitar…”) and the rest of the set was a pure joy of
monumental pieces from the dead canon, aided by Larry Campbell‘s
fiddle and guitar, and his wife Teresa Williams‘ vocals. I think for many who grew
up going to or listening to live Dead shows it will always be disorienting to hear
“Ripple” and “Brokedown Palace” in the middle of a set, but “Truckin’” brought it all home
with classic slow burn!

The Workingman’s Dead set busted out of the gates with “Uncle John’s Band” and
never let up. The band had clearly relaxed, and spent the next hour reveling in more
classic tunes that this time benefited from years of having been in the performance
repertoire. Larry Campbell’s biting Strat work lent a shimmer to “Cumberland” and
everything that followed, without impeding Furthur’s own identity and chemistry from
clearly emerging. The Anthem of the Sun set, the most anticipated by many as it
represents perhaps the pinnacle of “primal” Grateful Dead, was a monster from top to
bottom, climaxing with crushing versions of “Alligator” and “Caution.” I hope the
bruising guitar exclamations in “Caution” translate to tape, because, wow, they needed no
explanation under the rising moon!

The Mother Hips

I soldiered on and caught sets by three great bands on Sunday prior to Furthur. The
biggest surprise discovery of the weekend was the towering psychedelic progressive rock of
Carney.
Led by a fantastic and charismatic vocalist/guitarist and the most passionate, fiery band
I witnessed all weekend, Carney’s music seemed to fall in the Jeff Buckley meets Radiohead
universe, a welcome change of pace from the mostly Americana proceedings on the side
stages. The always-great Mother Hips were joined on the main stage by Jackie Greene,
who proved himself more than able on organ. The Hips designed their set for a gentle
afternoon and stuck mostly to their sunny Pacific stylings, save for the odd time changes
and riffage of their mid-nineties classic, “Magazine.” I wouldn’t have missed Electric Hot Tuna,
who were next up on the main stage, for the world. Stalwarts of blues, garage rock,
massive riffs and some of the original diplomats of the Haight-Ashbury, Jorma and
Jack have been playing together for 52 years. I was moved not just by their gnarly
set, but also by their longevity and by the Dead organization’s insistence on their
presence at this Festival. Loyalty does exist in the music business!

Hot Tuna

Initially I thought we were being thrown for a loop when Furthur came out and did not bust
into the expected “Help on the Way” to begin their Blues For Allah set. Instead,
the band leapt into one of those “same tempo as the next song but in a different key” jams
before beginning perhaps the Dead’s most progressive and esoteric collection. “Help >
Slip > Franklin” was pretty happening but not earth shattering. Far more moving was the
intense detail and thunder of “King Solomon’s Marbles,” which I’d vote for most welcome
comeback of the songs Furthur has reintroduced over the last year. “Music Never Stopped”
featured some searing runs by JK, and he delivered “Crazy Fingers” beautifully. Weir’s
dense but lovely “Sage and Spirit” was saved by Jeff Chimenti, who appeared to be
the only person who knew it that well. The “Blues for Allah” suite was a thrill to hear
live, but if you want to hear the only (?) other live version, you might be better off
checking out One From The Vault, as this well-intentioned attempt was gauzy and
confused around the transitional moments. Still, who’s complaining? Standing there
watching these guys try this stuff out and letting these songs wash over me was a thrill.
Joe Russo really distinguished himself deep in this second night with momentum and
focus, as Phil and Bobby seemed to show some wear and tear. There’s more than one reason
to hire a young, talented drummer, right?

Jackie Greene

After a wonderfully trippy set break that allowed some of the evening mist to begin
seeping into the amphitheater, the band returned and brought us back further in time with
a complete performance of Aoxomoxoa, the record that includes perhaps some of the
least performed Dead material of all. After a typically awesome “St. Stephen” (though I
would argue this might be the most over-performed song of the post-Jerry years), JK segued
right into a “Dupree’s” that also featured Larry Campbell on fiddle. For me, the two most
significant tunes that followed were Phil’s reading of Jerry’s “Rosemary” and the 11-
minute, genuinely psychedelic “What’s Become of the Baby?” which asked the pressing
question clearly on everyone’s mind: “Where is the child that played with the sun chimes
and chased the cloud sheep to the regions of rhyme?” Teresa Williams’ vocal wails and
white gown perfectly embodied the acid-queen-diva-goddess on this excursion. “Cosmic
Charlie” brought us home, and almost sadly, to the precipice of the last set of the
weekend.

Mark Karan

Despite mild exhaustion setting in, the Terrapin Station set rocked. To segue from
the set break music, Radiohead’s In Rainbows to a 14-minute “Estimated Prophet” was
perfect. (As a side note, all weekend the house music was very inspired, from Beck at
sunset to James Brown and Billy Preston! Yeah!) “Dancin’ in the Streets” was given its
full disco treatment (minus the convoluted outro jam of the celebrated ’77 versions),
“Passenger” was spot on, and Bobby really rallied for “Samson.” The last awesome surprise
was Teresa Williams returning for a song most people in attendance had surely never seen
performed, the Jerry-penned Donna Gauchaux showcase “Sunrise.” I felt a real affection in
the crowd for this one, a deep track that those of us who spent a few years scouring Dead
records before entering the tape trading community remember fondly. Teresa received a
real ovation before we glided into the B-side of this record, the entire 26-minute
“Terrapin Station” suite. What a way to bring it home!

Sir Joe Russo by Susan J. Weiand

After Phil thanked the crowd for being at our “family picnic,” he generously mentioned all
the people who worked so hard to make the festival happen, which received the largest
cheer of the weekend, hands down. Deadheads can be a wonderfully gracious bunch. The
appreciation was heartfelt, though. The whole weekend had that inescapable quality of
people fully absorbing the music, the scene, the memories, the personal connections, and
the uniqueness of a phenomenon that is not going to last forever. As I listened to the
weave of “Lady with a Fan”, convinced the band had intended this to be a sonic response to
the ecological tragedy unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico, I closed my eyes and said my own
thank you. Thanks, San Francisco! Thanks, Grateful Dead! Now what are we gonna do with
this energy?

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