May 1970 finds the Grateful Dead in one of their most fertile and raw periods, riding the wave of two landmark albums — Workingman's Dead had just been recorded, and the band was deep in the acoustic and electric experimentation that would define their early country-folk-rock pivot. This is the classic five-piece lineup: Garcia, Weir, Pigpen, Phil Lesh, and Bill Kreutzmann, with Mickey Hart also in the fold during this stretch. The band was everywhere in 1970, playing college campuses, ballrooms, and festivals with an almost reckless generosity. These were the days before the Wall of Sound, before arenas, when the Dead would pull up to a field house or a gymnasium and simply play — loose, exploratory, and deeply connected to whatever room they were in. Wesleyan University's Field House in Middletown, Connecticut is about as unglamorous a setting as you can imagine — a college gymnasium in the heart of New England, probably packed with students on a Sunday night in spring. But that's precisely the appeal. 1970 campus shows have a particular intimacy and looseness to them; the Dead were in constant motion that year, and smaller academic venues like this one often yielded some of their most uninhibited performances. There's something about a field house crowd — young, close, unpretentious — that seemed to draw out a certain earthiness in the band.
The one song we have catalogued from this show is Deep Elem Blues, the old Texas blues traditional that the Dead adopted into their acoustic repertoire during this period. It's a Pigpen vehicle through and through — rough-hewn, sly, and full of that barrelhouse swagger he brought to everything he touched. When the Dead played it in 1970, it had a ramshackle charm that felt genuinely ancient, like it had been passed down through some cracked jukebox lineage. A great version swings hard and lets Pig's voice do the heavy lifting, while Garcia and Weir lock into that easy two-guitar interplay they were perfecting in real time. Listen for the looseness between the vocals and the groove — whether the whole thing threatens to fall apart and then snaps back together is often the most thrilling part. Recording information for this show is limited, and what circulates may vary in fidelity, so temper expectations accordingly — but even a rough audience tape of the Dead in this era carries its own kind of magic. Put this one on and let 1970 wash over you.