By the summer of 1983, the Grateful Dead had settled into a comfortable but potent configuration that would carry them through much of the decade. Brent Mydland, now four years into his tenure as keyboardist, had fully shed any newcomer awkwardness and was playing with real authority alongside Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Bill Kreutzmann, and Mickey Hart. This was the heart of the arena rock era for the Dead — a period when they were playing bigger rooms to bigger crowds, with a muscular, well-rehearsed sound that traded some of the exploratory looseness of the early seventies for power and precision. It wasn't the lysergic wilderness of 1972 or the crystalline peak of 1977, but the best nights from this period could be punishing and beautiful in equal measure, and the band was playing consistently through the summer. Poplar Creek Music Theater, situated in Hoffman Estates in the northwest suburbs of Chicago, was one of the great outdoor amphitheaters of the era — a shed-style venue carved into the Illinois flatlands that could hold tens of thousands of fans under the summer sky. Chicago and its surrounding region were always prime Dead country, and Poplar Creek shows tended to draw devoted Midwest heads who made the shows feel like homecomings. There's something about that warm, humid Midwest summer air that seems to seep into recordings from this region, giving outdoor shows a particular, slightly electric quality.
The one song we have documented from this night is Dupree's Diamond Blues, the Garcia-Hunter old-timey rounder tale that stretches back to the Aoxomoxoa era of 1969. It's an odd, charming number — a jug band-flavored story song that always felt a bit like a relic from a different, folksier Dead, the kind of tune that makes people smile when it pops up in a setlist because it's genuinely unexpected. By 1983, Dupree's wasn't an especially frequent visitor, which makes its appearance here worth noting. A great performance of it leans into the rolling, almost vaudevillian rhythm, with Garcia finding that wry, storytelling groove he could inhabit so effortlessly. The recording quality for this show may vary depending on the source in circulation, and listeners should check notes on whichever version they're pulling. But even in modest fidelity, the outdoor ambiance of Poplar Creek tends to translate well on tape, and any night where the Dead played Dupree's is worth investigating. Pull up a chair and let Jerry tell you the tale.