By the summer of 1995, the Grateful Dead were in the final weeks of their existence as a working band, though no one in the crowd at Riverport Amphitheatre that July 5th could have known it. Garcia's health had been visibly declining for some time — the weight, the labored playing on some nights, the sense that something was slipping — and yet the band continued to draw enormous crowds, filling sheds and amphitheaters across the country on what would become their last full tour. Vince Welnick had been holding down the keyboards since Brent Mydland's death in 1990, and Bruce Hornsby had long since moved on from his guest residency, leaving the band with a leaner, sometimes rawer keyboard presence. The summer '95 tour has a complicated reputation among deadheads — some nights feel inspired, others feel effortful — but that tension itself makes listening to these shows a strangely moving experience in retrospect. Riverport Amphitheatre sits just west of St. Louis along the Missouri River, an outdoor shed that opened in 1991 and became a reliable stop on the arena-and-amphitheater circuit the Dead had been navigating since the mid-'80s. It's not a legendary room in the way that Red Rocks or Frost are legendary, but the Midwest Dead crowds were always passionate and loud, and the open-air setting lent itself to those sprawling warm-weather jams that defined the later touring years. St.
Louis had seen its share of memorable Dead nights, and the band seemed to respond to the regional energy. The lone song we have catalogued from this date is Playing in the Band, and if there's a single piece of music that encapsulates what the Grateful Dead were capable of at their best, this is a strong argument for it. Originally from the 1971 Grateful Dead album and a setlist fixture for over two decades by this point, "Playing" was the ultimate frame for improvisation — a springboard into the deep space jams the band lived for, and a reliable anchor when they found their way back to shore. By 1995, its structure had been stretched and bent in so many directions that hearing a version means listening for how Garcia's guitar negotiates the opening, whether the jam finds any genuine lift, and what Welnick brings to the changes. Even in the band's final stretch, a "Playing" that catches fire can remind you exactly why generations of fans followed this music across the country. If this recording has been circulating in good quality — and many '95 shows have decent audience sources if not full soundboards — it's worth sitting with. Put on headphones, let the opening chords of "Playing" wash over you, and remember what was still possible that summer.