By the summer of 1985, the Grateful Dead had settled into a configuration that would define them for the rest of the decade: Jerry Garcia, Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Bill Kreutzmann, Mickey Hart, and Brent Mydland, the Kentucky-born keyboardist who had replaced Keith Godchaux back in 1979 and was now fully inhabiting the role with a muscular, organ-drenched authority. The mid-'80s Dead were a different animal than the lysergic explorers of the early '70s — the sound was bigger, the arenas were larger, and the band leaned into a more direct, sometimes harder-edged rock sensibility. Garcia was still capable of transcendent nights, though his personal struggles were beginning to cast a shadow; the following summer he would fall into the diabetic coma that nearly ended everything. June of 1985 found the band on a summer run, grinding through the outdoor shed circuit that had become their natural habitat, and Alpine Valley Music Theatre was one of the crown jewels of that circuit. Nestled in the rolling glacial hills of East Troy, Wisconsin — about an hour south of Milwaukee — Alpine Valley was beloved by both fans and the band for its sweeping natural bowl, its cool lake-country air, and its capacity to hold a serious Dead crowd. The Midwest faithful turned out in force for these shows, and the lot scene alone was worth the drive. The Dead played Alpine regularly throughout the '80s and into the early '90s, and the venue has a warm place in the hearts of Wisconsin and Chicago-area Deadheads who made the pilgrimage year after year.
The one song we have catalogued from this date is "Hell in a Bucket," one of Bob Weir and John Barlow's sardonic, swaggering rockers that became a fixture of '80s setlists. First performed in 1983, the song crackles with a kind of gleeful self-awareness — its narrator cheerfully accepting damnation with a grin — and it gave Weir a new anchor for the first set that suited the arena era perfectly. A strong "Hell in a Bucket" is a statement of intent, a band leaning into the throttle and daring the crowd to keep up. Listen for Brent's Hammond-inflected swell beneath Weir's rhythm crunch and the way the drummers lock in on those chorus hits. Recording information for this date is limited in our current notes, but any surviving source from this run is worth seeking out. Pull this one up and let the Wisconsin summer carry you back.