By the spring of 1986, the Grateful Dead were deep into one of the more muscular, stadium-scaled phases of their long career. Brent Mydland had by this point been the band's keyboardist for nearly seven years, having stepped in following Keith Godchaux's departure in 1979, and his soulful, bluesy presence had become fully integrated into the band's sound — adding a harder rock edge and gospel warmth that distinguished this era from the jazzy looseness of the mid-seventies. Garcia was still in relatively solid form before the health crises that would define the latter half of the decade, and the band was running through the spring touring circuit that took them through the arenas of the Northeast, playing to the ever-swelling crowds that the mid-eighties Dead machine could reliably fill. The Hartford Civic Center was a reliable stop on that Northeast arena circuit — a concrete mid-sized room that the Dead returned to regularly throughout the eighties, part of that cluster of New England dates that also took in venues like the Providence Civic Center and the Boston Garden. Hartford itself had a loyal Deadhead community, and the arena shows of this period tended to draw enthusiastic, knowledgeable crowds who knew how to fuel a room. The Civic Center wasn't a legendary room in the way that, say, the Capitol Theatre was for intimacy, but it was a functional, energized arena that the band knew well and often played with genuine purpose.
From this particular night, our database surfaces "Keep Your Day Job," the Garcia-Hunter tune that has earned a complicated reputation among fans — some wear their affection for it as a badge of contrarianism, while others cheerfully admit it's not their favorite. What it does offer in a live setting is a driving, workmanlike groove, and in 1986 the band could lock into its shuffle with enough rhythmic authority that the room had no choice but to move. Brent in particular tended to dig into these mid-tempo rockers with relish, and listening for his organ fills underneath Garcia's lead lines is always worthwhile. Recording quality for Hartford '86 varies depending on which source you land on — soundboard tapes from this era are generally clean and punchy, giving you a front-row seat to Brent's keyboard work and Phil's bass in the mix. Wherever this one lands on the tape-trader spectrum, it's a solid snapshot of a band doing what they did night after night with professionalism and occasional flashes of brilliance. Pull it up and see which kind of night this was.