No Expectations 109: Dark Star
Another trip to the Sphere to see Dead & Company. Plus, new albums from Grace Rogers, Paper Castles, and Ben Hackett.
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Headline song: Grateful Dead, “Dark Star”
Thanks for being here. I’m back from Vegas and feeling great. Sometimes you just need to get out of town, experience live music, and be around friends to get a necessary reset. I’ll be writing about the trip below, but it won’t be as major an undertaking as last year’s recap. I’m skipping a bit of the background here on the Grateful Dead’s history, Dead & Co, and my journey with the band, so if you’re new to either the band or this newsletter, read the 2024 essay to get up to speed.
As always, you can sign up for a paid subscription or tell a friend about a band you read about here. It’s still $5 a month—the cost of one Old Style plus tip at Rainbo Club. Every bit helps, keeps this project going, and allows it to stay paywall-free. It’s rough out there, so I’m grateful you’re still reading and supporting this writing project.
Gig recap: Dead & Company at Sphere (5/16)
Dead & Company might be the most successful touring act of all time for a band with no studio-recorded music. While they sold 477,000 tickets at last year’s 30-show Sphere residency, grossing $131 million, I’d bet most of those concertgoers don’t choose to listen to them in their spare time. If you ask someone at the Sphere about their favorite Dead & Co. show, there’s a good chance you’ll get a blank stare. It’s not that this band doesn’t play well or put on a phenomenal live experience; it’s just not the Grateful Dead. Everyone is there because they love the Dead.
If you couldn’t catch the Grateful Dead during their legendary 30-year run from 1965 to 1995, getting a chance to see two of the pioneering rock band’s surviving members, guitarist Bob Weir and percussionist Mickey Hart, perform their expansive and unassailable catalog is the next best thing. If you’re like me, someone who skipped every opportunity to see those two play alongside guitarist John Mayer, keyboardist Jeff Chimenti, bassist Oteil Burbrige, and drummer Jay Lane as Dead & Co., shelling out the money to go to the Sphere makes sense. You’re there to catch a glimpse of a long-gone era. You’re there to be around people with their own stories and memories with this music. You’re there because you love the songs.
My relatively recent journey with the Grateful Dead is well-documented in this newsletter. For the majority of my music-listening life, I avoided them. That all changed in 2022, when I befriended Brian A. Anderson, a writer who also worked at VICE when I did and had moved to Chicago. That year, he was writing a book proposal on the band’s gargantuan, expensive, and influential 1974 sound system, the Wall of Sound. Talking to him about it, I realized beyond the names of the band members, I knew very little about the Dead. My taste intersected with Brian’s on most other things (for the record, Brian is not a wook—he is a normal guy), so I decided to dive into their catalog. To witness him get a publisher and go through the entire arduous process of writing it made that move so rewarding.
What started as a casual exercise to be able to talk eloquently to my friend about his book turned into discovering my favorite band of all time. Soon, I familiarized myself with their discography and their often-fraught history, listening to hundreds of hours of live recordings and reading several books on the band. Eventually, I even gave jam acts like Phish and Goose a fair shot. Before last year, I rarely traveled to see bands unless it was friends who had an extra seat in the van or a publication paid for it (given the state of music media, the latter has only happened a couple of times). The Dead were the exception: Last year, I went to Vegas for all three nights of their opening weekend at Sphere and wrote 7,000 words on it. The speed and severity of my rabbit hole trip from “skeptic” to “Deadhead” was shocking, especially to me.
As I’ve settled into un-selfconscious fandom, I realize my relationship to the band has been a salve to how I’ve approached listening to music throughout my 13-year career writing about it. If you’re someone paid to cover new music, your listening habits will become a little atypical. Not warped, but certainly not normal. I kept getting caught in a never-ending cycle of new releases, searching for something interesting, novel, and long-lasting. Even if I found an LP that ticked those three boxes, there would always be more new things to check out next week. With impending deadlines and assignments, I neglected old and recent favorites in favor of what I had to write about and what I had to cover next. Sure, I’ve somehow finagled my lifelong love for music—and having opinions on it—into a career, but sometimes work sucks. When something you’re passionate about is now inseparably tied to your financial stability, you can forget why you liked it in the first place.
Getting into the Grateful Dead, a band whose repertoire is so eclectic, adventurous, and amorphous, meant that I could burrow into something new and thrilling entirely separate from the music I had to write about. The band combined so much of what I liked: They started as a jug band and then got dosed during the '60s into acid-tipped garage rock, later incorporating campfire anthem folk, classic country, and face-melting, exploratory jazz-inflected jams that could stretch out to well over half an hour. In the '70s and '80s, you could find disco, funk, and prog experiments. They didn’t only change from year to year and decade to decade, but from show to show. They sounded like a living document of American music and embodied the endless possibility of collaboration. Immersing myself in Deadworld made me excited about music again—not just their tunes but everything else too. I needed a band to fall back on when I didn’t want to listen to bands.
Everyone who loves music is chasing something that can rewire their brain, that can reignite their joy, and allow them to view the world in a more vibrant filter. The Dead have been that for me. I’m not listening to them as much as I did when I first became obsessed, but they’re always there.
The group I traveled with to Vegas all have varying degrees of Dead love. My girlfriend has liked the Dead for much longer than I have. Brian, the writer who got me into the band, is now less than a month away from publishing his excellent book Loud and Clear: The Grateful Dead’s Wall of Sound and the Quest for Audio Perfection via St. Martin’s Press/Macmillan, has been a Head his entire life. His parents saw the Dead throughout the ‘70s and ‘80s and bonded over their love for them. His dad worked for the band’s late ‘70s PA provider and helped their roadies rig up speaker arrays, and his mom worked with a concert promoter, baked sweets for the band and backstage crew, and earned the nickname “Cookie Lady” from Jerry Garcia. It runs deep for him. Another couple got into the band after I did, while one of my buds, a last-minute addition to our crew, had maybe heard two or three songs by osmosis. You don’t need a crash course in the band’s history or setlist fluency to have fun at a Dead show, especially one at the Sphere.
Listen, I hate billionaire vanity projects as much as the next guy, but the Sphere undeniably rules. If you can stomach Las Vegas and a relatively hefty ticket cost, you should experience it at least once. The sound in there is immaculate (thanks to the “world's most advanced concert-grade audio system,” complete with "1,600 speaker arrays installed behind the LED panels, along with 300 mobile modules with 167,000 speaker drivers.") and the visuals alone are worth the price of admission. The Dead have always been at the cutting edge of live music technology, as Brian’s book Loud and Clear points out. Their onstage improvisations meant they needed to hear each other while performing, which culminated in their ‘74 Wall of Sound that nearly bankrupted the band in just nine months. It’s not hard to draw a through line from Wall to the Sphere in both sound quality and worrying finances (last year, despite ample ticket sales, it’s operating at a $93.8 million loss). When so many so-called technological wonders are climate crisis-intensifying plagiarism machines or worse, it’s nice when it’s a giant orb in the desert where you can see an unforgettable rock show.
Last year, I went to the first three nights of Dead & Co’s Sphere residency so I could knock my favorite songs off the bucket list: “Franklin’s Tower,” “Eyes of the World,” “Althea,” and “Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo.” I hit all four in 2024, including personally beloved tunes I didn’t expect to hear like “Crazy Fingers” and “Bird Song.” While I think chasing songs is silly and you should experience shows without that anxiety, I’ll give myself a pass as it was my first time seeing them. This go around, I just hoped the setlist featured enough recognizable bangers for the newer fans, but I realized that it didn’t matter. Dead & Co. opened with a surprise cover of Bob Dylan’s “When I Paint My Masterpiece” and then, upon liftoff of the Sphere’s incredible graphics, launched into a rollicking “Playin’ in the Band”—a song I didn’t hear last year. As soon as the show starts, I notice a dad who exuberantly dances as if he’s boxing with a ghost. Against all odds, his teen children next to him have the same moves. If we’re just going by songs I missed last year, this was the show to go to: an uptempo “They Love Each Other” that felt straight out of State Fairgrounds Iowa 5/13/73, a mind-bending “Dark Star” complete with a “Spanish Jam,” and a first-ever “I Fought the Law” cover to open set two.
Besides going to the Sphere, I’ve only listened to one or two Dead & Co. shows. I enjoyed them, especially for how the 77-year-old Weir has added a weathered and emotional gravitas to his voice. Still, I found no reason to choose Dead & Co. over the Grateful Dead when I open up Tidal or Apple Music. Live, it’s a different story. By skipping the first eight years of Dead & Co. tours, I missed the era when fans derogatorily called them “Dead & Slow.” They’ve been electric every time I’ve seen them. While no one can match Jerry Garcia’s pristine guitar tone, his playfulness, and the way his leads can frolic around a melody, John Mayer does a really tasteful and competent job. On night two, we got his signature Dead & Co renditions in “Althea” and “Sugaree” that both brought energy, pace, and commendable playing. In our section, I spot a guy wearing a John Mayer Continuum shirt, who somehow stuck out like a sore thumb at a show where John Mayer is performing. Mickey Hart’s “Drums” section was gorgeous, and Chimenti’s confident playing throughout the show made his case as an MVP of the night.
It’s no surprise that Weir made the biggest impression of the night. He’s aged gracefully as the band’s youngest member to its de facto leader. As he sang the opening lines to “Stella Blue” in “All the years combine / They melt into a dream,” it was palpably emotional. Robert Hunter’s lyrics and Weir’s delivery that night stopped me in my tracks. I sat in awe of an artist who’s been onstage for 60 years, lived more lives than most, and is still bringing tens of thousands of searchers to the desert for a communal experience. It’s the kind of moment that wipes away the cynicism, of thinking it’s all a craven money-grab, of tarnishing the legacy of a band that meant so much to so many. It still matters and it’s still vital, even in a new iteration. When they closed the second set with a cathartic “Morning Dew,” it was basically transcendent. What a joy to live in a discography like theirs and to see it evolve and resonate generations later.
Loud and Clear: The Grateful Dead’s Wall of Sound and the Quest for Audio Perfection is out 6/17 via St. Martin’s Press. Preorder it here. If you live near Chicago, I’m interviewing Brian at the Gman Tavern on June 19th alongside DJs Dead Inside for the official book release.
What I listened to:
The No Expectations 109 Playlist: Apple Music // Spotify // Tidal
1. Ben Hackett, "18pp"
2. Bleary Eyed, "Susan"
3. Moontype, "Starry Eyed"
4. Grace Rogers, "Tranquility"
5. Good Looks, "Standing In Front"
6. Post Animal, "Pie in the Sky"
7. Paper Castles, "Clean + Organized"
8. Florry, "Truck Flipped Over '19"
9. Wednesday, “Elderberry Wine”
10. Little Mazarn, "Dark Pleasure of Endless Doing"
11. Qur'an Shaheed, "Dreams"
12. Standing On The Corner, "Baby"
13. Billie Marten, "Swing"
14. King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, "Grow Wings and Fly"
15. Sister., "Two Birds"
Ben Hackett, Songs for Sleeping Dogs
This Athens, Georgia-based musician has collaborated with folk-rock acts like Rose Hotel and more, and his debut solo full-length, Songs for Sleeping Dogs, is full of immersive, organic, and intentional ambient music. He creates a lush, haunting, and sublime world across 12 instrumental compositions and nearly an hour runtime. There’s an invigorating arc to the LP’s sequencing: songs undulate, simmer, and patiently build from the airy opener “Between Sleep,” the dreamy “18pp,” and the jazzy, winding “Loose Changes 2.” It’s uniformly beautiful and is so clearly made by someone who lives and breathes for the genre. My favorite instrumental release of 2025.
Grace Rogers, Mad Dogs
Louisville’s Grace Rogers spent the early part of her career as a traditional picker and roots performer, but her debut Mad Dogs finds her leaning into conversational and inviting indie rock. There’s still a healthy dose of twang and Americana signifiers, buoyed by Rogers’ friendly voice and perceptive lyricism. Released via the Ryan Davis-run label Sophomore Lounge, these eight tracks are charming and delightful: “Downstream” boasts menacing guitars that eventually let loose in its final minute, while “Smoke Em’” is countrified jangle at its finest.
Paper Castles, I'm Sad as Hell and I'm Not Going to Fake It Anymore
Paper Castles’ Network-referencing fourth album I'm Sad as Hell and I'm Not Going to Fake It Anymore kicks off with one of my favorite opening lines of the year, “I’m a coward, I’m a content creator / Can’t you tell by the way that I yell, All the time?” The indie rock project of Vermont songwriter Paddy Reagan excels at janky, livewire guitars, winking lyrical humor, and surprisingly massive choruses. At times, Reagan’s voice reminds me of Amen Dunes’ Damon McMahon: He can be soulful, dynamic, and loud. “I’m Alright” unfolds like Lou Reed attempting a country song, while “Young in a Hurry” is crunchy, catchy, and pretty much perfect. Recorded with Benny Yurco (Greg Freeman, Lily Seabird, Robber Robber), there are loads of stellar songs, effective yet ramshackle arrangements, and deceptively infectious tunes.
What I watched:
Andor (Disney+)
Is Andor good for a Star Wars show, or is it just a good TV show? After two seasons of Disney+’s gritty, overtly political prequel series, I’m leaning toward the latter. It’s the best, smartest, and most captivating thing Disney has done with the franchise beyond The Last Jedi or Rogue One. They tapped Michael Clayton writer Tony Gilroy to pen a story on the burgeoning Rebel Alliance, one that unsubtly references The Battle of Algiers, Army of Shadows, and no joke, the 1907 Tiflis bank robbery. If Rogue One exists to answer the question of “Wait, why is there a hole inside the Death Star that makes it blow up?” Andor exists to resolve why there’s so much exposition in the first third of Rogue One. Diego Luna, Stellan Skarsgård, and Elizabeth Dulau all deliver phenomenal performances, too.
What I read:
All the Years Combine: The Grateful Dead in Fifty Shows (by Ray Robertson)
I needed a poolside book for Vegas, so I brought Ray Robertson’s breezy and informative history of the Grateful Dead. It splits up the band’s original run into bite-sized chapters detailing 50 of their most iconic shows. Robertson, a novelist and a fan of the Dead who jumped down the rabbit hole in his 40s, is a vivid storyteller and deft music writer. He can set any scene efficiently with just enough context to clue in new fans without overloading on lore. More impressively, he can describe 50 different concerts in 50 fresh and innovative ways. It never feels rote or repetitive. Kudos to him for including my all-time favorite Dead show in 10/29/77 at Northern Illinois University's Evans Field House in DeKalb, Illinois.
The Weekly Chicago Show Calendar:
The gig calendar lives on the WTTW News website now. You can also subscribe to the newsletter I produce there called Daily Chicagoan to get it in your inbox a day early.
I know you're a Nascar guy, but gonna check out Monaco or Indy 500 this weekend? Should be a fun Sunday!