The Grateful Dead, the Yellow Brick Road, and the Buffalo Philharmonic
Orchestra Kleinhan’s Music Hall, Buffalo, NY circa Winter 1969-1970
We were in school at the State University College at Fredonia (SUC Fredonia)
and went up to Buffalo, an hour away, for this concert. Kleinhan’s was a
classical music hall in Allentown, the beat section of Buffalo where we were
also staying. The premise was a joint experimental concert by the Grateful
Dead, a band called the Yellow Brick Road, and the Buffalo Philharmonic
Orchestra, led by Lukas Foss.
Before the concert, we were walking around inside the hall, my friends Neil,
Richy, Marc, and my girlfriend at the time, Terry. One thing led to another
and Neil began talking to a young woman with wide liquid eyes who said, in
response to his question, "Acid? You want acid? Someone gave these to me and
told me to give them out." She gave Neil one and me one. They were pink
tabs, so fresh the dust was flaking off. Neil ate his and I split mine
with Terry.
The Yellow Brick Road started and they were terrible. A teenie-bopper
band with no soul or interesting music. We waited through their set, things
becoming more and more interesting. The acid, which I am convinced was
Grateful Dead LSD, was the cleanest and purest I can ever remember.
Clarity, liquid pictures, and a sense of understanding.
After a pause, the Philharmonic came on. Silence, then a single gong. Down
the aisles came tuxedo’d men, each carrying a small gong, hitting them in
unison. Scary and funereal, it seemed to me like the old order which was
death. We waited through the piece, trying very much to like it or at
least escape from it, but then it was over.
Then they came out. They had to play an abbreviated set and I remember only
Not Fade Away, The Other One and Lovelights (and I am only positive about
Lovelights). But from the first chord, the room changed completely. Loud,
bright electric guitars, two drummers, and soaring, happy music. The new
order. Accompanying the show were "Laser Lights" four oscilloscope roses,
red, green, blue, and yellow, that swelled and changed with the music. I
remember noticing that they were trying to tie the different colors to the
different instruments, but that the music kept escaping them.
When the music started, Terry and I leaped to our feet. No one in front of
us did and when I looked around, only Neil was dancing. So we sat down
again, dancing in our seats. After a couple of songs, we couldn’t stand it
and got up. This time we were not alone and soon there was a sea of heads
and patrons, the former in liquid glory and the latter in evening
dress, all dancing and clapping. Maybe this was Not Fade Away, which always
meant more profound love than boyfriend-girlfriend stuff when the Dead did
it. It was a night where I felt my consciousness lifted above the audience.
The Dead were the conduit, but that they and the audience were being pulled
by the music which came from elsewhere. (Port Chester, 1971, was another
such evening where we would hear it, they would play it, and we would hear
something new which they would then play.) Lovelight ended with a bang and
we all looked around, amazed at what had just happened. In those days, there
was a sharp line between them and us, but tonight it had been erased. The
lights came on for Intermission, and the room had the loud buzz of a good party.
We wandered down front during the break. Bobby, Phil, and Jerry were
playing, but more touching strings than playing songs. Like Garcia was
playing the pulse of the room. Bobby’s eyes went in different directions and
when we invited him back to our friends’ house in Allentown (they wouldn’t
mind, right?), he said he had to go back to the hotel. He popped a string,
Garcia popped it back and then the three of them fell into the New Speedway
Boogie riff. For a long time, I believed they invented it right then,
but probably not. As always, the few times we got near to them, awe kept us
tongue-tied. We simply stayed in their presence until intermission
ended.
In the second half, the orchestra was split in two sections, the Yellow
Brick Road was in the front left and the Dead were in the front right.
Lukas Foss, the Philharmonic Director, led them on some orchestral space
music, pointing to different sections of the musicians to have the music rise
and fall. Very experimental and not beatific, but after a while, it was
over and the Dead did another set. I remember clearly a Philharmonic drummer
sitting in with Billy, while Mickey played various percussion instruments
around the stage. A second wave of good feeling that ended when the second Dead
set did. They sent word that they were too tired for an encore and
everybody got up to go. The Yellow Brick Road offered to play another set, but
no one wanted them to and we kept walking.
Don Lesser
(
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