January 3, 1970 finds the Grateful Dead at one of the most storied rooms in rock history — the Fillmore East on Second Avenue in New York's East Village. Bill Graham's East Coast counterpart to the San Francisco Fillmore was still very much in its prime at the dawn of the new decade, drawing the most adventurous audiences in the country to a hall that seemed purpose-built for the kind of extended, exploratory music the Dead were making. This was the classic "Primal Dead" lineup: Garcia, Weir, Lesh, Pigpen, Mickey Hart, and Bill Kreutzmann, a six-piece unit operating at peak creative intensity. The band had just released their self-titled debut and Aoxomoxoa in the preceding years, and Live/Dead — recorded largely in 1969 — was either freshly out or about to arrive, capturing on tape the kind of ferocious, freeform energy that defined this period. The Dead in early 1970 were a band fully in command of long, combustible improvisation, and the Fillmore East crowd understood exactly what they were witnessing. The one song we have confirmed from this show is "Good Lovin'," and it's a telling window into the era. Originally an R&B hit that the Dead absorbed through their roots as a jug band and cover-song workshop, "Good Lovin'" in this period was pure Pigpen territory — Ron McKernan turning a crowd-pleasing rocker into a tent revival, his Hammond organ and raw-throated delivery transforming the room into something between a dance hall and a church.
Early versions of the song could stretch in unexpected directions, with the band riding the groove and Garcia finding those bent, searching lines that made even a relatively straightforward number feel alive with possibility. Hearing Pigpen run a "Good Lovin'" in 1970 is hearing the Dead at their most organically funky, before the song evolved into the arena-sized workout it would become later in the decade. Listeners should tune in to the interplay between the two drummers and Lesh's nimble, searching bass work — Hart and Kreutzmann were still relatively new as a pair and crackled with a rhythmic curiosity that would mellow into fluency over the coming years. The Fillmore East always captured well on tape, and recordings from this room tend to carry the warmth and presence of a well-designed hall. Whether this is a soundboard or an audience capture, the room itself adds character. This is early Dead at its most vital — New York City, a legendary venue, and a band that had no idea they were making history. Press play and find out what they knew.