In continuing with our celebration of fifty years of the Grateful Dead, we asked musicians from all corners of the record bin to reflect on a particular show or moment that helped shape their musical life. In part one, read thoughts from Carlos Santana, Mike Gordon, Keller Williams, Eric Krasno, Chris Funk, Marco Benevento and Walter Martin. This story originally appeared in the July_August issue of Relix. To subscribe, click here.

Carlos Santana: 4/28/91

I had the supreme joy of playing with Jerry and the Grateful Dead on so many occasions, dating back to the ‘60s, when Mr. Bill Graham had the vision to have us share the same bill. Woodstock was the most historic event that we played together. I also remember a big jam with them and Jefferson Airplane that Chet Helms put on at The Family Dog, in 1970 that captured the feeling and vibrations of that time. I can still see Jerry and Michael Bloomfield smiling at me on the San Francisco Panhandle while I was playing for change in the late ‘60s. That was very validating for me as I was just out of high school and finding my own voice. There were many other moments that stand out, including New Year’s Eve at the Cow Palace in 1976, Calaveras Fairgrounds in 1987 and the Oakland Coliseum in 1993, as well as when Santana played with the Grateful Dead in Las Vegas in 1991. After the Santana set, Jerry invited me to play on “Bird Song.” It was very hot and to see that tie-dye sea of people swaying to our collective heart’s music was very moving for me. Jerry and I will always share a love for themes and melody. You could always hear a theme in his playing. Jerry was the sun, and the music the band played was like planets orbiting around him. It was very powerful.

Mike Gordon (Phish): 10/14/83

In Hartford, on Oct. 14, 1983, I remember being alone and climbing to a side seat up near the ceiling and closing my eyes. The notes, words and sounds of the music filled the arena in front of me like a 3-D playground I could swim through— maybe an anti-gravity tank, if you will. This sounds cliché, but it felt like I was choosing their notes, and they were choosing my thoughts. From my journal: “Every musical note was a different image. I suddenly was at a cocktail party outside with my mom’s friend, Linda Glass. She opened her mouth to speak and instead of a word the keyboard chord came out. Then, whenever that chord was played, Linda would be opening her mouth as though the connection was pre-planned.” The Dead had that deep sense of wonder that kids might have playing instruments in their garage for the first time, mixed with the most incredible refinement from technology, improvisation and songwriting—beyond what any other bands were doing. It was the first time a concert hall felt like being at home more than home itself, and I kind of “caught the bug”—wanted to try it myself.

Keller Williams: 10/8-9/89

For me, a lot of shows came in groups—like The Warlocks shows at Hampton. I was attending Virginia Wesleyan College at the time, and Hampton Coliseum was a short but scary drive across the bay. I had attempted to see the Grateful Dead at Hampton a couple years before, but I was unable to enter the parking lot without a ticket. So, I joined the 10,000 other people without a ticket in the parking lot. Rumor had it that the Grateful Dead were banned from Hampton due to the incredible scene outside the parking lot. So for them to come back a few years later under a different name was pretty exciting. The shows were announced about a week out and tickets were only on sale at the Coliseum. Friends were sending us money through Western Union every day for five days until it finally sold out. Not only did they break out “Help”> “Slip”> “Franklins,” “Dark Star” and “Death Don’t Have no Mercy,” but it was also the introduction to Jerry’s new MIDI rig. This literally melted my face. It was almost more than my fragile, young, untainted mind could handle. This was also close to the end of the speaker-in-the-hallway era. So I remember wild and elaborate interpretive dancing in the hallways with all my high school friends as well as my new college tripper freaks. Then, of course, we would shut down the parking lot and take the party back to campus. The next day, we would get up and do it all again.

Eric Krasno (Soulive/Lettuce): 10/16/89

I was very lucky to have an older brother who was a musician and a Deadhead. But the best part was that he was willing to tote around his 13-year-old little brother to shows with him. The most memorable night of that era for me was Oct. 16, 1989. Many Deadheads know this show as the night they brought back the song “Dark Star.” They had played this song a week earlier under the name The Warlocks, but this was the first version under the Grateful Dead name since ‘81 and, in my opinion, is one of the best versions. I still vividly remember the parking lot scene at the Meadowlands—a world within itself. I remember walking around with my brother feeling a million different ways, but mostly curious about the people we saw, met and hung out with while trying to find our way inside. It blew my mind to hear all these people predict setlists and talk about Bobby and Jerry like they were best friends. The question going around was, “Will we get ‘Dark Star?’ We didn’t have a ticket but we were assured by everyone we ran into that we’d get in. Eventually, my brother found a friend of his that was actually friends with the band. We not only got tickets to the show but got to go backstage. The show was epic— they played a bunch of my favorites: “Mississippi Half-Step,” “Deal,” “Uncle John’s Band” and, of course, “Dark Star.” I instantly started collecting live tapes after that. I have a recording of 10/16/89 and, to this day, I get to tell people I got to high-five Jerry backstage that night.

Chris Funk (The Decemberists): 6/7/91

I grew up near Chicago, and one of my best pals, Jami, was always skipping school to see the Dead. I was listening to more punk and The Smiths and didn’t get the Dead initially, but I was curious why my pal was continuously risking expulsion (despite understanding our shared love for “the other trips”). So I went—sat in a dusty parking lot, ate banana honey sandwiches and gooballs sold to me from rancid coolers, drank “dank beer,” sucked down balloons, hacked on dirt weed as well as played the game by the same name. As I write this from the backstage of a festival this all seems horrible, but at the time I wanted on the bus. I went to as many shows as I could get tickets to by decorating my envelopes. Sadly, I saw Brent’s last show as well as Jerry’s last show—both in the Chicago area. The best shows I saw were in my home state of Indiana at Deer Creek in ‘91. The setlists were classic, and the band sounded amazing. They played “Don’t Ease Me In” (which I was told was a big deal), “Mississippi Half-Step” (one of my faves) and encored one night with “The Weight.” I remember Garcia smiling a bunch and Bobby wearing some sweet cutoffs. I had an awesome date with me and was tripping on what I was told was Owsley. I slept in a ditch full of Indiana hemp and laughed all night into the hot summer sky, woke up and did it again.

Marco Benevento: 6/14/92

The first time I saw the Dead was in ‘92 at Giants Stadium. My mom and aunt dropped me and my cousin Mikey Petrella off in the parking lot—and I’m surprised they did. As they were driving us through Shakedown Street, they saw a hippie carrying a box that had some green leaves dangling out and my aunt said, “Don’t buy any- thing from that guy,” and then she laughed. I bought a tie-dye from some dude (that lasted me a good 10 years) and went into the show. I remember seeing Phil Lesh come on the huge Jumbotron TV to give an announcement about not jumping the wall “‘cause you can’t dance with a broken ankle.” And sure enough, as soon as the show started, opening with “Shakedown Street,” a sea of hippies cascaded down the padded blue, Giants Stadium walls onto the floor. I still have that visual in my head. That night, the Steve Miller Band opened up and I remember that being incredible, too. While soaking in the Dead set, I remember sitting down toward the middle of the show and staring at the two drummers. I really loved that element.

Walter Martin (The Walkmen): 6/20/92

When I was in high school in D.C. and the Dead would come to RFK Stadium, my friends and I would go hang out in the parking lot and misbehave. I was a big Velvet Underground guy and a big music snob, and I had some stupid hang-ups about the Dead, so I only actually went inside to see the show once (June 20, 1992). Only in my mid-20s did I grow up, lose my (many) hang-ups and open my eyes to the magic of the Dead. These days, the Dead section in my record collection is way bigger than The Velvet Underground section, RFK is gone and I no longer hang out in parking lots.