User Show Reviews |
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Reviewing User | Review | Rate Review Poor|Neutral|Good |
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Paul Zane | This show was the best show I attended! It was my 3rd Dead show, and a great complement to the 3 rivers show in Pittsburgh the prior week. One of the last Brent shows, and undoubtedly his swan song performance. | |
Jeff Swenson | Nice outdoor show with Crosby, Stills and Nash | |
U-Turn Mike | Extremely smokin'! | |
Tim Trott | My 1st Dead show! | |
Jim Montanya | OUCH What a second set probably best on tour | |
john | ||
Mydland Years | ||
fz3s | ||
Tim Keeler | ||
Bayne Johnson Jr | It was SOOO sizzling in the many Lot's that day(yes kids, once upon a time there were many, many Shakedown's set up before a show). These unique, traveling flea markets, were the backbone of the bedoin culture, made up of approximately 300-400 Thousand Heads, who, enmasse traveled up and down the east and west coasts following the boys on tour. These shear numbers made the stadiums swell under the strain of the swiftly rising tide of ex-patriots who sought the sacraments only this scene could offer, which was now a cat out of the bag as the Nineties began and the US Government slowly strangled the last gasps out of the inherent adventure which was once ours to be born into. In the asphalt flats surrounding Rich Stadium, we had conquered that WNY Shrine to the Buffalo Bills Pro Football team handidly. It seems so long ago to remember that at that time the Bills were the winningest team in the NFL... weird. The suburban city of Orchard Park watched helplessly as, within the first hours of our arrival, the 7-11 across the Lot from Rich Stadium had to padlock their store; everything was sold out and no resupply trucks could get near the venue. It was a GREAT, on a whole OTHER kind of level, everytime I approached this swirling nebula of social and cultural freedom and independance-at least when you weren't in NJ getting chased by the Yellowjackets.My friend Jason Fox and I hopped a Bus to Buffalo at the last minute, spending everything we had to just get near enough to the Stadium to increase our chances of getting a free ride. We arrived in the terminal in the city of Buffalo and were swiftly welcomed into a taxi by a gaggle of heads who only knew one thing-that we were all in this together and we must get to the show, even if we lost track of each other once we arrived. Our cab was only able to get us about 2.5 miles from the venue. The main streets and all the side ones as well, were clogged with VW busses and vans of all shapes and sizes. Many of these automotive relics, which now sadly seem as though from a time when fuel didn't cost as much as a college loan; were now being parked on side walks and double parked on the curbs, blocking the illusion of order which was dillegently maintained by the Orchard Park Police and the citizens they served, which now had accepted that it was useless trying to keep the flow of traffic moving efficiantly at this point. The inhabitants of Orchard Park had appearantly fled the LSD fueled march of these patchwork clad brownie eaters called Deadheads and began selling out their green, well manicured lawns to as many as they could fit-Acid Freaks and Deadheads can never thwart the forward progression of the Capitalist ideal and these square suburbanites became beneficiaries of the profits others would fail to accomodate. This came as a result of GD Promoters failing to meet the demand for tickets due to a sharp and dramatic rise in popularity. Nonetheless there wasn't a stadium large enough to seat the extra 310,000 fans at this show. Jason and I emptied out of the taxi and joined in the procession toward where our Mecca would be on this summer evening. I remember lasting only a few hours in the pulsating, radiation from the sun. It was several hours before the show and I found a lazy patch of tall soft weeds to lay down in and I drifted off to sleep after eating a Falafel Pita and drinking a bottled water. Jason wandered throughout the circus midway existensialy observing the Deadheads in their natural surrounding. Jason was not a kin to any of the Head's, nor did he really get what people enjoyed about the music. One thing he did like, that I and most of the revellers did as well was tripping our faces off and taking it as far as we could back then. I awoke to the sound of a shattering POP and what seemed to be the loud expelling of gass from something. Before I could get up from this commotion a nitrous oxide cannister rolled into my backside and the hoodlums selling their "balloons" were scattering into the crowd and away from the venue security. Like everything at a show I looked around into the masses of humanity and out came Jason. With a strip in one hand and 4-5 fatty's in the other we walked toward the stadium and before I could put my fingers up for a pair of tickets, two were placed ceremoniously into my hands. The show itself was another story. This was a year into a period I like to call SpacePod Travel. Starting in the fall of '89 at the Meadowlands, every arena or stadium the bys played at became a Pod-like spaceship and they were the Dilitheum Crystals fueling our trek across time and space... Yeah! LoL, groovey, right? |
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aikox2 |