By the summer of 1985, the Grateful Dead had settled into the comfortable but combustible rhythms of their mid-decade arena run. Brent Mydland, now six years into his tenure as keyboardist, had long shed any newcomer awkwardness and was playing with real authority — his bluesy, gospel-inflected Hammond work a natural counterweight to Garcia's increasingly lyrical guitar flights. The band was deep in their post-hiatus stride, the 1980 comeback now years behind them, and they were drawing enormous crowds to sheds and arenas across the country each summer. This July 1 date at Merriweather Post Pavilion dropped them into the heart of the mid-Atlantic, just outside Columbia, Maryland — a beloved outdoor amphitheater with a covered pavilion and sweeping lawn that had become a reliable stop on the summer circuit. Merriweather crowds always had a particular energy, drawing heavily from Washington D.C., Baltimore, and the surrounding region, and the venue's natural acoustics and open-air setting gave shows there a warm, slightly unpredictable character. The fragments we have from this show paint an interesting picture of the night's musical range. Walkin' Blues, the Robert Johnson standard that Garcia and the boys had been playing since the Pigpen era, remained a flexible workout in 1985 — Garcia's slide work and phrasing on this one is always worth close attention, and Brent's organ fills add a swampy undertow that suits the song beautifully.
Uncle John's Band, one of the Dead's most enduring ensemble pieces, is a song that rewards listening to how the band breathes together — the vocal harmonies, the gentle lift of the chord changes, the way it can feel like a congregation finding its footing. And then there's Dear Mr. Fantasy, the Traffic chestnut that Brent had made his own signature showpiece. When the Dead played it, it had a way of becoming something else entirely — a vehicle for extended interplay and cathartic release that stood apart from anything Steve Winwood ever imagined. The recording circulating from this show is worth tracking down for what it captures of the band in a relaxed but engaged summer evening mode — not a legendary peak performance night, perhaps, but exactly the kind of warm, lived-in Dead show that makes the archive so endlessly rewarding to explore. Put on your headphones, let Brent's organ wash over you, and let Garcia do the rest.