EM commented recently on my frequent discussion of Comes A Time, pointing me to the Roanoke 1987 show as a version for me to check out.

I decided that I needed a diversion from my continuing focus on May 1977 and the 1971-73 eras (the latter being several distinct eras themselves, apparently), so I headed over to the Internet Archive and listened to the tune.

Now, I may come off as Rip Van Winkle here, like I slept through all of modern music history, but I am shocked and stunned at the frailty of Jerry Garcia’s voice and his lack of basic vocal control.

I know he was in a diabetic coma in 1986, and that he made a great recovery from it, and had to re-learn how to play, etc.  I accept that at face value, and can only imagine the pressure he put on himself to get back to what he loved to do, as well as the pressure from the fans, and from the “machine” so dependent on him for earning a living.

But come on!  I had heard that the background talk at the time that the Dead wasn’t what it used to be anymore, but never realized just how bad things had gotten as far as Jerry’s vocals.

Thinking I had listened to the wrong show, I went back and realized there was a second show the next day.

Sorry, same issue.  Jerry’s about 15% better, but I remain amazed in a bad way.

If my math is right, he was 45 or so years old for the 1987-07-07 and 1987-07-08 shows.

Surely in another few months I will have acclimated to the deterioration in their faculties and will be able to date a show based simply on the sound of Jerry’s voice.

However, the beauty of this little diary in real time is that my initial reaction is captured forever, and I have to tell you, my mind is racing with all kinds of questions and accusations as to how this was allowed to happen like this.  I will leave that mostly to another time, lest I be a “blind man” saying “don’t you see”.  I need to learn and listen more before shooting off my mouth in a way that will surely disappoint some.

Maybe Jerry insisted.  And he was the boss, despite the thing where he pretended he wasn’t.  No one could make him change his ways.  But really, it hints of collective denial on a massive scale.  And I’m sure it got worse, I did take a peek at the final Soldier’s Field show a few weeks ago, but never imagined it was close to that bad all the way back in 1987.

Now, as an aside to EM who pointed out Roanoke 1987 to me, I have no doubt that the show(s) meant a lot to you, and that they might have been standouts for that era or for that tune in specific.  I am just on a 50,000-foot level unable to get much beyond the decline in the main man’s voice and presentation ability from the golden days I have steeped myself in recently.

I have not done a lot of evaluation of the guitar playing, but there seems to have been a lot of decline there too, sad to say.  The quick truncation of the second solos alone, before the compositional challenges of the change in tone in the best versions of the song, speaks negative volumes.

Not having lived through the coma as a fan in real time, I am not really able to bring the poignancy of the situation into the mix as far as judging the music, in the cold light of day.

I am just very sad about what I may face as I move into those eras and beyond.  I fear for an eight-year slow motion ride into death.

[OK, so I hit 'Publish' on this, and then hit Google, and come up with this great article on The Burden of Being Jerry.  Nothing this frank came through to me in the McNally book I read.]