By May 1977, the Grateful Dead were operating at the absolute peak of their powers. The spring tour that year is one of the most celebrated runs in the band's history — this was the same stretch that produced the legendary Cornell show on May 8th just one week prior — and the band was firing on all cylinders with a lineup that many fans consider the definitive version of the group. Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Bill Kreutzmann, and Mickey Hart were locked in, and Keith and Donna Godchaux occupied the keys and vocal chair with a warmth and melodic sensitivity that suited the band's increasingly sophisticated songwriting. Terrapin Station was just months away from release, and the band was road-testing new material while still drawing deeply from their established repertoire. The St. Louis Arena was a classic mid-American hockey and concert barn — the kind of big, barnstorming room the Dead filled with a different energy than the theater gigs or the more intimate California dates. St. Louis crowds had a Midwestern directness to them, and there's something about the Dead playing deep into the heartland that seemed to focus the band's collective attention.
The room could hold sixteen thousand people, and on a good night the sound in those big arenas had a physical presence that matched the band's ambitions. The three songs we have logged from this show offer a compelling cross-section of what made 1977 so special. Estimated Prophet had only debuted earlier that spring and was already taking shape as one of Weir's signature vehicles — its churning 7/4 meter and biblical imagery gave the band a new rhythmic platform, and Garcia's guitar work inside it was becoming increasingly elastic and exploratory. Row Jimmy is a quieter pleasure, a Garcia lullaby of a song that in 1977 had a looseness and emotional depth that rewarded patient listeners. Brown Eyed Women was a perennial crowd-pleaser, a tight, driving number that gave the whole band room to stretch, with Garcia's vocal delivery in this era carrying a confident maturity that's easy to love. Listeners should pay particular attention to the interplay between Garcia and Keith Godchaux in these performances — Keith's piano voicings in this period had an extraordinary conversational quality, filling space without crowding Garcia's lead. Whether you're coming to this show through a soundboard source or a good audience recording from the era, 1977 tapes tend to reward close listening. Put on your headphones and let this one take you somewhere.