By the spring of 1989, the Grateful Dead were deep in their arena-rock phase, riding an unexpected commercial resurgence that had brought them to some of the largest venues of their career. "Touch of Grey" had cracked the mainstream two years prior, and the band was now drawing massive crowds of newly minted fans alongside the faithful who had followed them for decades. The lineup was settled and seasoned: Garcia, Weir, Lesh, Hart, Kreutz, and Brent Mydland, now well into his second decade with the band and pushing the sound in harder, more muscular directions. Brent's Hammond organ and gospel-inflected vocals gave the Dead of this era a certain urgency that the Keith Godchaux years never quite had — there was heat in the music, even when the tempos were loose. The Rosemont Horizon, situated just outside Chicago near O'Hare Airport, was one of those quintessential late-80s Dead venues: a large, functional arena that could hold well over fifteen thousand people and often did during this period. The Chicago market has always been loyal Dead country, and Rosemont shows from this era tended to draw enthusiastic, loud crowds that fed energy back to the stage. The Midwest runs of the late 80s produced some genuinely inspired performances, and April 1989 finds the band in the middle of a busy spring touring stretch.
The song we have documented from this night is "Friend of the Devil," and it's one of those deceptively simple Garcia tunes that rewards close listening. Written for the "American Beauty" album in 1970, it migrated from its acoustic folk roots into a staple of the acoustic sets the Dead periodically performed — but it also appeared regularly as a first-set electric number, where it could stretch and breathe depending on Garcia's mood. By 1989, "Friend of the Devil" had accumulated years of performance history, and Garcia's reading of it tended to carry a certain weariness that felt entirely appropriate to the lyric — a fugitive's lament dressed up in country-tinged melody. Listen for the way he phrases the verses here, and for how the rhythm section frames that distinctive walking bassline Lesh brings to the song. If you can track down a quality source for this one — and Rosemont shows from this period circulate in a mix of soundboard and audience recordings of varying fidelity — it's worth the dig. Spring '89 doesn't get as much love as some other Dead eras, but there are real gems scattered across the calendar, and this Chicago stop deserves a spin.