Where The Dead retire
an epilogue to an era that goes where everyone goes to retire after a long strange trip.
I wonder what Hunter would have to say about the Dead and Company residency at the Sphere in Vegas. But he’s not around, so I will.
Vegas has changed and so has the marketing juggernaut that is the Dead. For those who are unaware, before there was Taylor Swift, there were our friends in tie-dye and their part caravan / part barter system economy. But that was before late stage capitalism sunk its teeth into the Vegas Strip and what is left of Deadhead-fandom.
Before I go any further - let me state my credentials. I had a friend who used to drive the Furthur bus when Cassidy was too gakked, and another friend who ran the board in the post Brent Mydland / Bruce Hornsby days. I’ve had enough nitrice oxide on Shakedown Street to bang my head while fishing and not learn my lesson to sit before I take the balloon. I tripped more than Gerald Ford and remember when you traded for tapes with shit brown weed that was half seeds. These are my people. This is my music.
I got to admit. When I realized that The Dead had taken up residency at the Venetian, I was like, wait. The Venetian? As in The Venetian? I was suspect. But it makes perfect sense. What a final act and ultimate move for the original pirate circus to drop anchor adjacent to the symbol of Disneyland for adults. The economic calculus on the part of the event planners was that the fans would be able to afford the ticket price and executive level comfort of a first class Vegas hotel. That the intimate and exclusive experience and price tag it carried would line up with economic reality to most Deadheads.
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