It’s a little early for me to be deciding on the best Jerry Garcia guitar solo ever.  I’ve only listened to about ten shows with any frequency thus far.

But it’s not too early for me to decide on the best guitar solo I’ve ever heard.

By anyone.

Ever.

I heard this one a few days ago and held off writing about it because I wanted to make sure it wasn’t just a strange mood I was in, or something.  I am a little excitable about guitar solos.

I have been writing about the Cornell Barton Hall show from 1977, and have been reading a bit of commentary about it as well.  Many have noted that the string of shows in that spring of 1977 were remarkable.  Many point to the Buffalo show of 1977-05-09 as equal, or even better, than Cornell the day before, and someone commented that the May 7-9, 1977 string of shows along Interstate 90 in Boston, Ithaca and Buffalo were the best three contiguous shows ever played by anyone (I like bold statements, at least when there’s the possibility of their being accurate).

I put this show on as background music for some intensive work (reading and writing), at a low enough volume that the novelty of the music wouldn’t overwhelm my pitiful powers of concentration.

The first set is unusual, setlist-wise, compared to the 1971-73 era I have largely focused on to date.  About half of the tunes were unfamiliar to me.  I was enjoying the music, it definitely was registering in terms of providing some additional energy but I was not listening actively at all.

About all I had consciously concluded was that the tenor of the Barton Hall show was quite different from that of Buffalo, with Barton Hall seeming more deliberately accessible, and Buffalo more dreamy.

I had decided that I would in the future be listening to Buffalo again more actively before moving on to other shows from that stretch in the Northeastern U.S.

Deep in the show arrives Comes a Time, a Jerry Garcia ballad with mournful pacing and great harmony vocals from Donna.  I like ballads because there is usually a strong melody line for a lead solo to spring from and around, and so I am not surprised when Garcia plays a nice short mid-song solo along the lines I expect.

About 15% of my brain is following the music and I am plowing away at my project, and there’s Jerry back into another solo, I am almost not consciously aware of it, but it is there and it is good and I know that much.  It is consistent with the tone and mood of the song and he’s playing nicely and well and actively.

Then WHAM!  Something happens.  Something changes.   What the !? . . . .

I scramble to the volume control and turn it up.  What is going on?  What just happened?

Did Garcia change scales (not that I know anything about scales)?  Did he change keys (same — what do I know about keys)?

No, he seems to be playing in the same way — same note ranges, same effects/tone, there’s no trickery here, nothing obvious, no switch was hit, but it’s changing!  It’s different.  It’s stunning.

I don’t want to be a spoiler.

But this solo morphs in the middle in a completely natural and miraculous way, it is literally like the sun suddenly appearing through a rainstorm.  I have listened to thousands of guitar solos and while I have heard solos deliberately evoke different feelings in different portions, I have never heard anything remotely like this.

Seriously.

By the solo’s coda (around 10:52 on the streaming version on Internet Archive), I am suddenly weeping.  Like a baby.

Not because I have listened closely to the lyrics and been moved, because I have not.

Not because I realize Jerry is gone and he played a great solo, although it would have been a good reason.

I am weeping as an automatic unconscious reaction to a guitar solo — a string of single notes over several minutes that, even not consciously listened-to for most of it, caused my brain to go haywire.

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I was listening to a soundboard, and there was little audience feedback to hear.  The audience tape version provides some more cues as to reactions, but I think few really absorbed the solo at the time as easily as we can when we are, decades later, listening in relative leisure and focus in our homes or cars.

After another few listens, I decide to do some research.  Maybe this song is known for its great solo, and Jerry recreates it the same way every time.  I listen to a few other streaming versions, they don’t come close.  I can’t tell exactly how unique “my” Buffalo version is, and I don’t want to kill the magic I feel by analyzing it too much.

But I think it’s safe to say, on this particular night, Jerry reached a special place on Comes a Time.

If this is not his best solo ever, and there are many more such moments, I will be a very busy guy for a long time as I work through thousands of shows.

If this solo does not end up in my top 3 of all time in my life I will be shocked, and lucky, I suppose, to hear better ones.

Some comments on the Buffalo show indicate I’m not the only one who thinks this solo was something special.

Would it have been so wrong for me to be the only person to be reduced to a puddle by this solo?  No.  But somehow it feels good to know there are others out there similarly affected.

Please let me know if you feel the same, or differently, about it.

And play it loud and don’t cheat, listen from the beginning!