Red Rocks always feels half-alive when the sun slips behind Ship Rock, but on July 6th the famous sandstone seemed to breathe in unison with Jerry Garcia’s music. The Colorado Symphony, guided by conductor Christopher Dragon, unfolded spacious orchestrations while Melvin Seals settled behind his B-3, Jacklyn LaBranch and Lady Chi warmed the microphones, Tom Hamilton carved guitar lines, Duane Trucks steered the groove, and Oteil Burbridge cradled a brand-new six-string bass unlike any other. Just before showtime, the Grateful Guitars Foundation rolled out “Dire Wolf,” the first Doug Irwin-certified bass model of Garcia’s legendary Wolf guitar, hand-built by luthier Bill Asher from tonewoods cut in that same early-seventies era. Oteil accepted the gift with a grin big enough to light the canyon, then strapped it on and never looked back.
The opening notes, a teasing wisp of “Dark Star” that resolved into a feather-light “Bird Song,” proved the orchestra could lift familiar melodies without weighing them down. Violins fluttered behind Seals’ swirling keys through “Here Comes Sunshine” and a jubilant “Rubin and Cherise,” before Hamilton’s gritty runs steered the band into a swampy “West L.A. Fadeaway.” As twilight deepened, “China Cat Sunflower” slid gracefully into a hushed “China Doll,” and the inevitable climb to “Terrapin Station” sent the crowd into roaring, goose-bumped disbelief.
After intermission the ensemble returned with the buoyant bounce of “Scarlet Begonias,” letting it bloom into a Technicolor jam. “Morning Dew,” draped in brass and low strings, rose slowly like distant thunder, hushed every conversation in the amphitheatre, and gave way to a pocket-funk “Shakedown Street” that shook dust from the ancient seats. Garcia’s ballads—“Standing on the Moon,” “Ripple”—felt newly minted in orchestral earthtones, while “Cats Under the Stars” turned the red rocks into an open-air gospel hall.
When the symphony filed off, Oteil re-emerged with the Dire Wolf glinting under stage lights and signaled the night’s final surprise: Phish bassist Mike Gordon strolled out to a roar. What followed was a two-bass dialogue of pure joy. They traded nimble phrases on “Lay Down Sally,” locked into earth-moving counterpoint during “Tangled Up in Blue,” and sent “Deal” barreling home with an energy that rattled the foothills. Burbridge’s six-string growl intertwined with Gordon’s melodic thump, the pair finishing each other’s sentences as if they’d been trading riffs for decades.
When the last chord dissolved into canyon silence and fans began the long climb out, conversations lingered on the sight of that wolf-engraved bass and the way Jerry’s music had once again found fresh air to breathe. Between symphonic swells, gospel harmonies, and the playful thunder of twin low-end masters, the evening felt both revelatory and familiar—proof that, high above Morrison, Garcia’s songs still echo, evolve, and invite new storytellers to carry them forward.
