Dicks Picks Volume Thirteen: A Sonic Time Capsule That Feels Alive
Let’s get one thing straight—Grateful Dead weren’t just a band; they were an experience. And Dicks Picks Volume Thirteen, recorded live at Nassau Coliseum back in the day (released officially in 2015), is like stepping into a time machine where every note breathes, grooves, and dances with you. This ain’t your polished studio album—it’s raw, unfiltered magic straight from the stage.
The genres? Oh man, it's all over the place in the best way possible: Rock, Folk, Blues, Psychedelic—you name it. It’s like someone threw a musical potluck and invited everyone who mattered. The styles are equally wild—Folk Rock, Blues Rock, Psychedalic vibes galore—but somehow, it works. Like peanut butter on toast or socks with sandals, weird but perfect.
Now, let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck to my brain like gum under a chair.
First up: "He’s Gone." Man, this one hits different live. There’s something about Jerry Garcia’s voice cracking through those opening lines—it’s haunting yet comforting, like hearing an old friend whisper secrets after midnight. Phil Lesh’s bassline rumbles beneath it all, steady as a heartbeat, while Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann lay down rhythms so tight you’d think they were born attached at the drumsticks. When the harmonies kick in during the chorus, it feels less like listening to music and more like being wrapped in some cosmic hug. You don’t just hear “He’s Gone”—you feel it. Deep down.
Then there’s "Scarlet Begonias > Fire On The Mountain." If transitions had Oscars, this would win every year. Bob Weir starts off smooth with “Scarlet,” spinning tales of chance encounters and red roses, and then BOOM—Jerry takes over with “Fire,” turning the whole thing into a fiery jam session that could light up the sky. Brent Mydland’s keys shimmer throughout, adding layers of sparkle, while the crowd cheers like their lives depend on it. Honestly, if aliens landed tomorrow asking for proof of human creativity, I’d hand them this track without hesitation.
What makes this album special isn’t just the songs themselves—it’s how alive everything feels. Every creak, shout, and accidental stumble adds character. Dan Healy’s recording job deserves applause too; he didn’t clean things up too much, letting the imperfections shine through. Kudos to Dick Latvala for digging this gem out of the archives because, honestly, we needed it.
Here’s the kicker though—listening to this record made me realize something kinda funny. Grateful Dead shows weren’t really concerts; they were communal therapy sessions disguised as rock n’ roll extravaganzas. Whether you’re vibing to “High Time” or losing yourself in a twenty-minute jam, you can’t help but feel connected—to the band, to the people around you, even to strangers decades later.
So yeah, go ahead and spin Dicks Picks Volume Thirteen. Just don’t blame me if you find yourself googling “how to join a jam band” by the end of side B.
