By the summer of 1986, the Grateful Dead were deep into their arena-rock ascendancy, playing to massive crowds with a lineup that had found its footing around Brent Mydland's muscular keyboards and soulful voice. Brent had been in the band since 1979, and by this point his Hammond organ and piano work had become absolutely integral to the group's sound — harder-edged than the Keith Godchaux years, more aggressive in the low end, with Garcia's guitar often pushing into brighter, more searching territory against that backdrop. The band was between studio albums, riding the momentum of their commercial resurgence, and the Fourth of July holiday gave these outdoor stadium dates a particular communal charge that was hard to replicate in an ordinary arena setting. Rich Stadium in Orchard Park, New York — the home of the Buffalo Bills — was about as far from the intimate theaters of the Dead's early years as you could get, a hulking 80,000-seat football bowl on the western edge of New York State. Playing a stadium on the Fourth of July meant the Dead were essentially providing the fireworks themselves, with a sea of tie-dye stretching back further than anyone could see and a crowd that had traveled from all over the Northeast and beyond. These massive outdoor shows had their own peculiar energy — looser, more festival-like, with the sound bouncing unpredictably off open sky and concrete — but the band often rose to the occasion, playing with a kind of expansive confidence that matched the scale of the room.
The songs we have from this date tell an interesting story. "Fire on the Mountain" was by 1986 a well-established crowd favorite, that hypnotic Bob Weir and Mickey Hart composition built on a circular groove that gave Garcia plenty of space to stretch out in his melodically lyrical way — when it locks in, it can feel like it lasts both three minutes and three hours simultaneously. "Goin' Down the Road Feeling Bad" was a reliable closer or set-capper by this era, a rollicking traditional number that gave the whole band a chance to blow out the dust and end things on a communal, jubilant note. "Dupree's Diamond Blues" from the database appears to be marked missing, which is a shame, as that jaunty Garcia-Hunter number had a particular charm in the mid-'80s. Circulating recordings of this show vary in quality given the outdoor venue's acoustic challenges, but even a rough audience tape captures the scale and heat of a holiday stadium crowd ready to celebrate. Put this one on and let the Fourth of July wash over you.