By the spring of 1991, the Grateful Dead were deep into what would prove to be their final years together, and the pressures of that reality were beginning to show — though the music could still catch fire on the right night. Brent Mydland had died the previous summer, and the band had settled on Vince Welnick as their new keyboardist, with Bruce Hornsby frequently joining as a second keys presence during this transitional period. It was an unusual, sometimes awkward lineup to sort out on stage, but it also brought fresh energy in moments, and the 1991 touring year found the band working through that adjustment in real time, for better and for worse. The Dead were still a massive cultural juggernaut at this point — stadium-sized crowds, a loyal army of tapers, and a touring circuit that felt almost unstoppable in its momentum. The Omni in Atlanta was a round, multi-purpose arena that hosted the Dead for several visits over the years — a Southern crowd with genuine warmth and a room that, while not the most intimate setting, could get loud and alive when the energy was right. Atlanta always seemed to bring something out of the band, and the Southeast leg of any Dead tour tended to have a certain loose, celebratory feel to it.
The songs we have documented from this show paint an interesting picture of a typical evening in 1991. "Shakedown Street" had long since become a reliable groove vehicle, the funky Brent-era arrangement by this point fully absorbed into the Welnick era — listen for how the band locks into that reggae-inflected pocket and whether they stretch it out or keep it tight. "Quinn the Eskimo," the Dylan cover the Dead had been playing since the early days, shows up periodically across the years as a kind of playful, jubilant wildcard — it's the kind of song that gets the crowd singing immediately and signals the band is in a loose, happy mood. And "Not Fade Away," the Buddy Holly cover that became one of the great Dead vehicles for rhythmic hypnosis, is always worth your attention — when it builds right, with the crowd clapping along and Garcia finding those long, searching notes, it can be genuinely transcendent. If you find a good board source for this one, the separation on Welnick's keys against Garcia's guitar is worth savoring. Pull this one up and let Atlanta in the early nineties wash over you.