By the summer of 1974, the Grateful Dead were operating at a level of sonic ambition that bordered on the overwhelming — and they meant it that way. The Wall of Sound, that magnificent, ridiculous, unprecedented public address system, was in full deployment, and the band had expanded their touring operation into something almost philosophical in scale. Keith and Donna Godchaux had been aboard for a couple of years by this point, deepening the harmonic palette and giving the band a fluid, piano-driven center of gravity that felt both jazzier and more grounded than the earlier lineups. Garcia was in exceptional form throughout this period, and the rhythm section of Lesh and Weir locked into a kind of telepathic density that characterized the best of the '74 run. This was also the year the band would announce their hiatus — the October retirement was already looming, giving the summer shows a particular weight for those paying attention. Boston Garden was the kind of cavernous hockey arena that tested any sound system, but the Wall of Sound was arguably built for rooms exactly like this — a rig so enormous it could fill the Garden and then some without folding back on itself with feedback. Boston crowds in this era were reliably fervent, and the Northeast had become one of the band's strongholds.
Playing the Garden put the Dead in the same rooms as the Stones and Led Zeppelin, a reminder of just how far they'd traveled from Haight-Ashbury. What we have documented from this show is Seastones — thirteen tracks of it, in fact — which is its own kind of archival treasure. Seastones was the electronic music project of composer Ned Lagin, who collaborated with Phil Lesh and occasionally other band members on ambient and experimental sound pieces that the Dead incorporated into their sets during this period, typically as an interlude between sets. It was challenging, abrasive, and genuinely avant-garde — not everyone came around on it, but for those willing to let it wash over them, it opened a strange door into the Dead's more cosmic sensibilities. Thirteen tracks suggests a fairly complete document of a Seastones set, giving listeners a rare extended look at this short-lived and often misunderstood corner of the Dead's universe. If you want to understand the full breadth of what the Dead were willing to attempt at their mid-'70s peak — not just the jams, but the genuine experimental edge — this is the recording to cue up.