Still can't figure out what I'm missing about the Dead. My distaste for saints like Cream can be chalked up to a lack of muso incrowding // philistine ignorance. But the Dead? Am I not doing enough drugs? Did I need to see them live? Are they virtuoso on some level I'm missing?
They kinda jaunt and waddle by, looseygoosey, and...so what? This doesn't even have any particular jammy sweep or epic scope, just a bunch of songs that sound more or less like Casey Jones, swinging backandforth on self-call-and-response pendulums until they're over. It's right enjoyable in places, and there's a dusty Americana authenticity that I dig, but it keeps derailing itself, from the pointless Rosemary to the sub-Revolution-9 What's Become of the Baby, which would have been annoying and boring at 3 minutes, let alone 8.
There's just enough here to call this good, but I'm still mystified by those that call em great 3/5
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