By the summer of 1993, the Grateful Dead were deep into what would prove to be their final full touring years, grinding through a punishing schedule of sheds and stadiums with Vince Welnick holding down the keyboards following Brent Mydland's death in 1990. Welnick had settled into the role by this point — he'd been with the band for three years — and while the debates about his fit never fully quieted among the fanbase, he brought a genuine enthusiasm to the gig that showed up in the playing. Jerry Garcia, despite the health scares that had shadowed him through the late '80s and early '90s, could still deliver the goods when the spirit moved him, and there were enough inspired nights scattered through '93 to reward the faithful who kept showing up. The band was also embracing a new generation of fans who'd arrived through the Lesh and Friends orbit and the still-swelling parking lot culture that had made Dead shows a traveling city unto themselves. Rich Stadium in Orchard Park, New York — home of the Buffalo Bills — was one of the big outdoor caverns the Dead frequented during their stadium era, the kind of 80,000-seat football bowl that traded intimacy for sheer communal spectacle. Western New York had always been solid Dead territory, and a summer show in that corner of the state carried a regional loyalty all its own.
The acoustics of a place like Rich Stadium were never a purist's dream, but the size of the room also meant that when things locked in, the wave of sound washing over that crowd was something else entirely. Of the songs we have documented from this show, each tells its own story about where the band was. "Samson and Delilah" was a first-set staple rooted in the band's gospel-blues tradition, a hard-driving workout that let Mickey and Bill drive the room while Garcia dug into the lyric with conviction. "Mexicali Blues" — the Weir-Barlow saloon shuffle — is always a fun, loose-limbed vehicle that shows off the band's ability to swing without breaking a sweat. And "Way to Go Home," one of Welnick's own contributions to the catalog, is a window into how the band tried to make him feel genuinely at home in the repertoire; hearing it live gives you a sense of the generosity the Dead extended to their newest member even in the homestretch years. If a recording of this show surfaces in your travels through the archive, it's worth a spin for a snapshot of a band still very much in motion — battered maybe, but not finished yet.