After spending half a dozen reviews being underwhelmed by the Dead, I find myself in the awkward position of kind of starting to like them. Maybe there's something in their easy simplicity that becomes comforting when it's familiar, and their cottony grooves finally finding their way into my heart. Maybe I'm finally getting past my expectation that they be The Greatest Fucking Thing. Maybe I've just gotten some kind of Stockholm, clinging to a band who's voluminous discography I can never get free from.
But there's something humble and heartwarming in these rhythms and tones that puts me right, and one big epic jam in the middle is the sweetspot between too little and too much.
And maybe its the fact that this is a live album that *feels* like it's in a little club, when something magic was breaking out, before the band was an open secret, playing in the open air to millions. This breathes like a moment, like something special - it's the only album of theirs that gives me some fleeting reflected glimpse of what [being there] might have been like 4/5
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