Standing On The Moon
Dead & Company's opening night at The Sphere.
You walk in not realizing what you’re seeing. What appears to be scaffolding is instead a state-of-the-art screen that you’ve been looking forward to looking at since you purchased the tickets. That realization, however, pales in comparison to the other things it does to your mind throughout the four-hour trip.
Like with any Dead show, I tend to get a bit anxious beforehand. Whether it’s social anxiety or excitement, it manifests itself in ways that feel familiar at this point: a lack of appetite, sweaty palms, and a sense of urgency to get in an Uber. When you add the city of Las Vegas to the mix, well, that dangerous cocktail begins to take over.
Fortunately, the Uber was short, the lines were fast, and we found ourselves with plenty of time to acclimate before sitting down — probably the last time we’d be able to rest all night.
Leading up to Dead & Company’s 24-night run, there was a lot made of it. Phish preceded them and instantly became a nearly impossible act to follow. When you add in the “Dead and Slow” criticisms and the lack of a live stream for those unable to attend, you create an environment where people are quick to pounce (especially the more territorial side of the Phish general admission section).
But still, questions loomed. Would they be doing their trademark original setlists for the entire run? Would each show have all-original graphics or would they repeat them? Why are ticket prices diving as we inch closer and closer to opening night? What happened to Matt Busch who largely helped structure playlists for previous tours? Some questions were answered, and others didn’t require any for they didn’t end up mattering.
No one had them kicking off with “Feels Like A Stranger,” but it had been 305 days since we’d seen them play together so maybe it was more fitting than anyone realized at the time. A typical haze unhindered by security set in as we launched from a digitally perfect version of San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury into orbit. Steadying ourselves during the ascent from earth, it soon became evident that this Dead show was going to somehow be even more atypical than the rest whether it was The Grateful Dead, Dead and Company, or any iteration in between.
As they eased through “Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo” and into a familiar “Jack Straw,” they soon settled into an extended “Birdsong” that felt like you were in Jerry Garcia’s version of a Rainforest Cafe. For 16 minutes, waterfalls and rain cleansed us as we attempted to find our groove for the rest of the night.
Emerging from the tunnel at set break, there was a familiar sentiment amongst everyone: “Holy fucking shit, this is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.” At that moment, it was. And I’m not certain my view has changed since.
While it can be argued Deadheads sensationalize individual shows more than most other bands’ fans, this reaction was more warranted than most. The palpable excitement coursed through everyone from the spinners to the old heads to the first-timers in a way I hadn’t seen at any other shows I’d been to (which is only nine, to be fair).
In hopes of getting a “Help” > “Slip” > “Frank” second set opener, those songs were instead preceded by an “Uncle John’s Band” to usher everyone’s brains back into Sphere gear. That is, until we found ourselves in a swirling disco ball for Jeff Chimenti’s tickling solo in “Franklin’s Tower” — disorienting to the point where I wanted to sit down for the first time all night but cruising enough that I couldn’t justify it. For all we knew, we were inside Winterland Ballroom’s disco ball in another dimension unsure if we’d ever stop spinning.
If you could accomplish the impossible task of ignoring the screen to survey the crowd, you’d soon begin to realize that it was turning into a Dead & Company show of old — and the more tame graphics (like the stationary curtains for an extended “He’s Gone”) only helped accomplish this even more.
That is until one of our final questions of the night got answered: “What’s going to happen during Drums > Space?” For the unfamiliar, Drums > Space is akin to a second set break for everyone in the band except for the rhythm section. Instead, they primally take over the stage creating a hurricane of beats that are only exacerbated by drummer Mickey Hart’s hand-selected graphics for this run’s visuals. No longer do patrons leave to use the restroom or grab a final beer; everyone planted in their seats with their mouths cocked open more than they had been all night prior.
Mickey knew, and he delivered.
As we entered Space, it was clear: this wasn’t like the rest, it won’t be like the rest.
As Bob Weir and John Mayer filtered back on the stage for a surprisingly not-on-the-nose version of “Standing on the Moon” from a visual perspective, there was a feeling among everyone that the top was about to get ripped off The Sphere whether we liked it or not.
With a version of “St. Stephen” that we’ve been craving since The Gorge last July, LSD-centric visuals took over everyone’s psyche for 15 minutes of heart-pounding umami. But as we entered “Hell in a Bucket,” I don’t think any of us could fathom whether or not we’d actually enjoy the ride.
The term “Steal Your Face” cannot properly describe how “in your face” that psychedelic gumdrop motorcycle ride was. With bears dancing in the peripheral and terrapins floating through the sky, you were on a cosmic highway that could only compare to the Rainbow Road from “Slipknot” not an hour before.
For many people — whether in attendance or not — comparison would be their biggest enemy from the moment they stepped into the venue. Would they be the same Dead & Company during their “final” tour? Would they be able to follow Phish in a way that stopped the flood of negative Reddit comments? Would the product be watered down over 24 nights in the same venue, no matter how much that venue can be customized?
But as with The Grateful Dead, this band has somehow been able to propel themselves beyond comparison whether people want to shoehorn it in or not.
As we descended back to earth, “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” led the two-pronged attack — Bobby’s aged vocals paired with John Mayer’s lead guitar, they felt like the only ones who truly knew the way to take us home. And that’s exactly what they did as we landed directly in front of the same houses we had taken off from shortly after the 7:30 PM start time.
While I had guessed a “Not Fade Away” opener in the weeks leading up to the show, we were instead graced with it closing night one where it was evident they hadn’t faded away like we worried last summer. Rather, they were back in ways that none of us could’ve comprehended last July.
Arm in arm, they took a bow — Bobby, Mickey, John, Jeff, Oteil, and Jay — and it was clear no one’s love had faded away. It had simply been restored within the confines of a man-made globe that feels otherworldly.
While Bobby usually sprints away from the bow at the end of big shows, even he attempted to crack a small smile under his white beard. It was obvious none of the prior comparisons had stolen any of his joy but much like everyone else in the venue, The Sphere may have stolen his face instead.
If you have any direct questions about the entire Sphere experience, please do not hesitate to ask in the comments. Additionally, I talked more about the Sphere experience and structure in the episode of Circling Back found here.