A Carousel Is Just A Circular Parade, Man
Many years ago, there was a group of young men; they were weird-looking (except for one of them), and smelled like crime. Good burghers and town fathers would chase them to the city limits and let the next guy worry about it.
There was a time when the Dead were scary, and it’s partly because they sounded like this: 3/16/68 at the old Carousel Ballroom. Check this one out – it’s a clean and pristine Charlie Miller master and it will leap right out of your speakers and take a dump in your fridge. Maybe in the crisper.
It is primal Baby Dead and if not for the tragic, minutes(?)-long gash at the end of The Other One into the beginning of Alligator, it could easily be an official release, or would have been already. There are still thirteen minutes of Alligator, which is something: most bands don’t have full songs that are thirteen minutes, but the Dead has partial songs that last that long. You could cook a burger in thirteen minutes, or listen to three-and-a-half country songs.
The are no words for this music: go listen to it.