This review is from a college friend, Joe C., who lives in Scranton PA.
Thanks for the review, Joe. I like to hear from someone whose opinion I trust. The reviews on the
Philzone tend to fall into the categories of "Bobby sucks, Phil is a god whose every note is full of immortal grace", "You youngsters missed the boat and they suck without Jerry", and "If you can't enjoy every note of every show, sell your tickets, ... you ungrateful bastards". Though the reviews of the show over the last weekend seemed better and without the usual sniping.
I went onto the
Deadlists site and checked out an image of the ticket for the Grateful Dead's last arena show in '95. The price was $27.50. If they had increased only on inflation, in 2008 dollars, that would be $38. So they went up about 250%. I'm just sayin'. But the shows are close to sold out from everything I read, so I guess they didn't charge too much to sell out.
Here's Joe's review:
"Great show!!! Worth the effort and expense! By far the most enjoyable post Jerry experience.
As we drove into the venue (I went with Dave and Charlie from my band, the Hellbenders) we were greeted by political type yard signs that read (No Tailgating!!!). The persons who placed the signs must have been referring to the restriction only applying to that particular location because the parking lot was as festive as a Spring Tour parking lot should be. All the hallmarks of a Grateful Dead concert were accounted for: dogs, check (it is called empathy boneheads, ask someone else to watch your dog); young children, check (ditto on the empathy point); freaks, check (it would not be a freak show without them); and of course people leaching off the band selling their various wares. A shakedown street was well established much to my surprise given how uptight the cops are around here concerning tail gating. It never ceases to surprise me the effect of smell to conjure memories. The scent of oils, incense, and grilled meat sticks provided an authentic atmosphere despite the strip mall wasteland setting of the venue.
No opening act. The band started approximately twenty minutes behind advertised schedule. They opened with Mr. Charlie. Spirited, up tempo and funky. Warren lead the way on vocals (Warren is carrying a lot of water for the boys and that is no bad thing!). One of the true highlights of the evening. The stick to the roof of your mouth licks which splattered from the glorious teal Gibson Thunderbird of Warren proved that he had no interest in jamming a square peg into a round hole. Also, Warren stuck to good ol Fender 60s era tube amplification. Good choice leaving that boutiquey shit he normally plays at home!
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