cxlviii. GRATEFUL DEAD
from Workingman's Dead.
It was 1971. It was Paris. It was Room 44 at Reid Hall.
I didn't know any of their previous four albums; nor did I know that this one represented a huge stylistic change from those earlier psychedelic-tinged releases.
I just knew that the harmonies and the lyrics hit me in a way that no other Non-Classical music had ever done since I first heard The Beatles in 1963.
Then this phrase always seemed blazing:
And finally these eight bars of a capella truly blew my mind:
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