You don’t quite get it until you go there.
And that’s what’s so great about the Sphere.
Or, to adapt Don Henley’s lyric, we haven’t had that spirit here since 1995 and the advent of mass use of the internet, never mind the launch of YouTube in 2005. Suddenly everybody could see everything. You could just pull it up on your phone. But what is great about the Sphere is the experience is unique. So it’s like going to a show in the sixties or seventies, you come home and testify to your friends all about it, go to the Sphere and you can dine out on the story for weeks back in your hometown. You did something others can’t really know unless they go too. And you’re foaming at the mouth so they have a deep desire to go to the Sphere too.
Sure, live music is an evanescent experience in a world of long-lasting commodities available to all. But the dirty little secret is most acts play the same show with the same production in every city. So, it doesn’t matter if you see them in Los Angeles or Orlando, it’s the same. But you can’t get the Sphere experience any place but Vegas. Furthermore, Dead & Company don’t play the same show every night.
So what we’ve been sold is a futuristic vision. That the Sphere is a great leap forward. But I’d posit it’s a great leap back, to the sixties, when life was all about possibilities, when we were optimistic, not pessimistic, when nobody wanted to work at the bank, they wanted to express themselves, selling out was anathema.
So you went to a show and everybody was equal. There were no billionaires, everybody in attendance was pretty similar to you. And there was power in that.
And there’s power in the Sphere. There’s not a bad seat in the place. No one feels left out. And at certain moments you’re thrilled, because what you’re experiencing you’ve never experienced before.
So the number of people who lived through the sixties, never mind have their memories intact, never mind were part of the counterculture, is diminishing. Makes me crazy when these young writers start talking about how it was. They’re basing their information on statistics, which we never cared about, and tomes. But for those of us who were there…
First and foremost there were light shows. At the Fillmore East there was Joshua, and then Joe. They added another dimension, of creativity. And when you sit there staring inside the Sphere you realize we are only at the beginning, there are endless possibilities. Creative people will blow our minds. The costs will come down and they’ll create video trips we could never contemplate. The medium changes the message.
This is not MTV, wannabe hitmakers throwing stuff against the wall that oftentimes didn’t even get aired. You know if you’re going to play the Sphere, and then you create.
And I don’t want to talk about the economics, which so far are poor. But economics were not part of the equation in the rock days of yore. No one expected it to last, they expected to go back to the factory when it was all done. It was a lark. But the creativity, the honesty, the credibility struck the audience so dramatically that the whole business blew up. There was music before the Beatles, but the reach, the cultural impact, the effect upon society, was nowhere near as great.
So Dolan laid down billions and conventional wisdom is that he needed to prove himself independently, outside the shadow of his father. But that’s the wrong way to look at it. If you go through history, oftentimes it was those with capital who enabled and fostered change. Dolan didn’t have to prove himself to VCs. Of course he’s running a public company, but he’s in control and the numbers are good and you’ve got to grow or die, that’s why Salesforce tanked. Numbers were good, but there was no growth.
And when you throw the long ball and get it right, the public can’t stop talking about you. Sure, the Sphere sent out a ton of hype, so much that I had to unsubscribe from their mailings, but what really had the Sphere penetrating society was word of mouth. And the appearance of the globe at the Formula 1 race last fall. No one truly foresaw the advertising power of the building. Fly into Vegas today and every other structure looks quaint compared to the Sphere. Which is colorful in the drab desert, and doesn’t possess the rectangular shape of all the other buildings. Let this be a message to you, imitate others at your peril. The true rewards go to those who take risks, we hunger for change, for the different, that’s what gets us fired up.
Now you’ve probably seen some of the footage of the Dead & Company Sphere shows online. And I’m loath to describe in detail any of the highlights, for fear of eviscerating your fresh experience, but…
The screen clears and you’re on a street in San Francisco. You know it if you’ve been there, or if you’ve studied the history of the San Francisco scene, not only of the Dead but so many others. Rows of Victorians, on an incline.
This is Haight-Ashbury. They tell you so on the screen, but dedicated followers of fashion know immediately. And they know what this means.
In San Francisco it was about personal development and expression. Three hours behind New York in an era when that was crucial, San Francisco was its own society. Back when airline fares were regulated and no one went anywhere on a whim. You were stuck at home and you fantasized.
And then the lens starts to pull back and back and…
You see more of San Francisco. You see the Golden Gate Bridge and the Golden Gate it is named for. And then all of California. And then Mexico. They keep pulling back the camera until you can ultimately see the horizon, the edge of the globe. I’m getting pins and needles writing this. It was positively thrilling.
And positively sixties. This was our dream, come to life. Starting with our roots. It wasn’t about telling everybody how great we were, boasting on social media, it wasn’t about accumulating the most toys, it was about adventure. And that’s what the Sphere delivers, adventure.
And if you go down to the floor, it resembles nothing so much as a high school sock hop, or a battle of the bands. If you were alive in the sixties, you know what I’m talking about. In that there was no scrim, no wall between you and the act. No ten foot high stage, no security. They were there and you were here and you blended together.
The stage is not high. And everybody’s playing live. And you get a sensation far distant from the arena, never mind stadium, shows of today. If you’re high in the sky, the band is dwarfed by the production, the images in the Sphere, but if you’re down on the floor the perspective is different, the images are no longer primary. The balance shifts and the act becomes the focus.
And they don’t crowd everybody in on the floor. I started on the periphery and worked my way right up front without pushing a single person. This is not the GA of your nightmares, there’s elbow room.
But unless you want to stand for hours, I recommend you get a seat. As for the haptics, Bernie had us lying on the floor with our heads on pillows looking straight up during “Drums” and I’m not sure whether it was the bass that moved us or whether the haptics were in full force, but once again, there are no bad seats. We were in a suite far to the end and it made no difference, I could see everything, we were there.
As for Dead & Company…
What a long strange trip it’s been. I’m not talking about the Dead, but John Mayer. Starts out as a hot guitarist, a fact only insiders know, and makes his bones with singer-songwriter stuff. And then he shifts to flash, having hits all the while. And then the hits dry up.
Mayer switches managers. He needs more hits. Just like his girlfriend Katy Perry. But the time has passed. And this forced Mayer to become a musician. I don’t mean he wasn’t a musician before, but now it’s about the playing itself, not the Spotify Top 50. And Mayer is the glue that holds the entire enterprise together. He smiled and laughed when he hit a clam, but that was the only one I caught. He makes it seem effortless.
And of course his style is different from Jerry Garcia’s. But Mayer’s more intense, more upfront playing, energies the enterprise. Sometimes when Jerry would noodle the end result laid flat. Oh, don’t you Deadheads get your knickers in a twist. Everybody on the plane was comparing notes, who’d seen the Dead first. And of course it was me, back at Manhattan Center, back when so many authoritative Deadheads weren’t even born. And the truth is the Dead were very uneven live, VERY uneven. They’d play for four hours, one would be unlistenable, two would be good and one would be great. I only saw them be consistently great once, at the old Boston Garden. Sure, Jerry was a prince, Captain Trips, the glue, but the raw fact is Dead & Company are much tighter, much more together, much more consistent than the Grateful Dead ever were. Sure, Jerry wrote so many of the songs, and they played them last night, but Jerry was oftentimes better than the rest of the group.
Bob Weir hit the stage wearing what we called “clamdiggers” back then. In this case, jeans cut off mid-calf. And sandals. Because it’s not how you look, but how you play. It’s about the music, not the image.
And like the Dead of yore, it’s when it all comes together, when it all gels, that your mind is blown, when you’re truly one with the music, smiling at an experience you truly can’t get anywhere else. In this case the song was “Franklin’s Tower.”
“Roll away the dew
Roll away the dew”
At this point I was on the floor, and those surrounding me knew every word and were singing along. Kinda like when they played “Bertha” earlier in the set. These songs are in my DNA. I can’t tell you that I listened to them incessantly, and only them. But music was the internet of the era. You were addicted, you know so much that you never realized you do. And it brings us together.
And I must mention Jeff Chimenti’s organ solo during “Franklin’s Tower.” Superb. Enriching. It squeezed out every other thought in your body and lifted you above the morass, the detritus of everyday life.
Of course you can’t really call it the Dead without Weir. That almost goes without saying. But from the young heartthrob of yore to now… You can see the entire span of our generation in his visage.
And Mickey Hart… His hair may have turned gray, but if you close your eyes there’s no difference between fifty years ago and today.
And Jay Lane does a great job in the Kreutzmann role.
And Oteil Burbridge is a utility player nonpareil. You can’t think of anybody better for the role.
But of course it’s not really about flash, but cohesiveness, doing their best to get the sound right. And once again, no one else ever made this sound, and when Weir and Lesh and Hart and Kreutzmann are gone, it will be over. Period. Just like with Jeff Beck. I still can’t believe he’s gone. That SOUND!
And despite all the dreck about the Grateful Dead formula, in truth the band had no idea what they were doing, there was no big plan. It’s not like they sat around and said if we let our fans tape the shows the audience will grow. They had San Francisco values, except for very brief moments they were not part of the mainstream whatsoever, and that’s one of the reasons they’re so special. You don’t have to like them, but for so many the band gives them a reason to live, never mind community.
I’m going to leave it at that. If what I’ve written above doesn’t make you want to go to the Sphere, I don’t think anything will.
In truth, the graphics wow, and at times make the band look small, but with the Dead, let’s be clear, it’s about the music. If you hate the Dead, don’t go just for the images. But if you like the Dead, it’s worth a special trip to Vegas, because odds are you’ll never get this experience again.
Which brings us back to the beginning. Rock used to be a religion. There were elements of pilgrimage involved. That’s what Woodstock was all about. People heard the lineup and decided they had to go. Period. Woodstock was not Coachella, there was never really another Woodstock thereafter. Woodstock was a spontaneous surprise. And either you were there or you were not. You could see the movie, but it wasn’t like being there.
But you can’t even get a movie of Dead & Company’s show at the Sphere. The technology doesn’t exist. There is no home version, a twelve by twelve mini-Sphere you can put in your living room and go on a trip. The vastness of the enterprise is part of the appeal, there’s an incredible wow factor. And, once again, there’s not the usual pecking order of the usual show. The furthest out seat is in some ways better than the one in the middle. It’s all about field of vision, perception. Anywhere inside works. Everybody’s on the same trip.
GO!
