March 2, 2001

By LEWIS TAYLOR The Register-Guard

"You got any tapes for me?" said a guy at the bar with a black fedora and a shirt that said "Freak." "You want any alcohol? I'll buy you some."

I had come to Taper Tuesday, a gathering of Grateful Dead concert tape collectors held each week at Chez Ray's North Beach, 44 W. 10th Ave. Having only been to two Dead shows, I didn't know quite what to expect from a taper gathering, so I hung with Freak at the bar for a while and talked about DNA and LSD and the 1968 show at Betty Nelson's Organic Raspberry Farm until the others showed up.

The Grateful Dead were beloved not only for their music but for the fact that they encouraged fans to freely tape-record their concerts. But the first thing I learned - aside from the fact that tapers are friendly and like microbrews - is that Taper Tuesday isn't really about tapes at all. Like everybody else, Deadheads have gone digital.

"In the last year, so many people have gotten CD burners that everyone's determined to get as many CDs as they can," said Jeff Harrison, the host of Taper Tuesday. "What it means is my massive collection of tapes isn't quite as impressive as it used to be."

Harrison, one of the few remaining analog holdouts, has more than 2,000 cassette tapes in his home collection. His wall of Dead is, apparently, a marvel to behold. He isn't bitter about the transformation to CD, but neither is he about to convert more than 2,000 tapes to disc.

Because of the cleaner, faster, cheaper CD technology, he said, more lost shows are resurfacing, rare concerts are becoming more available and "tape" collecting has gotten a whole lot easier.

The second thing I learned about Taper Tuesday is that it's impossible to buy a copy of a Grateful Dead tape. An extension of the Karma principle or the "I need a miracle" school of thought, the idea is to share and share alike.

If I'm looking for a copy of the Oct. 3, 1987, show at Shoreline Amphitheater, you might have it or know a friend who has it. Then, later on down the line, I might be able to help you locate a copy of that magical Dec. 8, 1973, show at Duke University.

Gatherings like Taper Tuesday are happening in other cities - including San Francisco and Minneapolis - and tape collecting is catching on among younger fans, who trade shows recorded years before they were even born. Although tapers have discovered Napster, and music files are regularly shared over the Internet, for many, taper gatherings such as the one at Chez Ray's are still the preferred, more social, form of "file sharing."

At least two of those who showed up at Harrison's Tuesday gathering were neophytes like me who were looking for copies of their first show or a Dead show performed on their birthday. The appeal, no matter how many "tapes" you have, Harrison said, is the same.

"It's about socializing, hanging out with people who share the same musical interests and developing our collections," Harrison said. "It's not just living in the past.

"There are shows that none of us have ever heard and so, with the benefit of modern technology, it's just like going to a show."

Harrison, a ponytailed man with a welcoming smile who teaches English at Lane Community College, plays the role of ultra-laid back emcee at each Taper Tuesday gathering, and he's a natural for the part.

He invites people to play their "tapes" and videos, writes the selections on a dry-erase board and asks video trivia questions such as, "Where and when did the show we are about to watch take place?"

The collective amount of Grateful Dead knowledge found at a Taper Tuesday gathering might amaze you or, more likely, frighten the heck out of you. Tapers know many things, such as how many shows the band played in Boston in the fall of 1993 (six) and who calmed bassist Phil Lesh down after he started yelling at a member of the audience during a 1973 show in Minneapolis (Jerry Garcia).

Harrison does his best to welcome first-timers into the strange Taper Tuesday ritual, which looks at first like a very closed circle. Bearded guys (and the occasional nonbearded lady) sit around a table scattered with videos and CDs and high-gravity microbrews while "Richard the Jewel Case Dealer" peddles CD holders from an oversized cardboard box.

In reality, the tapers are a welcoming lot once you find your way in. Most view a request for a show as a fun challenge rather than a big hassle. If you can imagine a researcher with a degree in jam bands - a Grateful Dead scientist, if you will - you'll have a pretty good idea of what a taper is like.

"I've got all these tapes at home, but I don't know what to listen to," Harrison said, explaining another part of the appeal. "If somebody asks me to make a copy of a show, I don't have to make that selection. I can go back and rediscover an old show. ...

"It's not just trading, it's also giving something away."

It's worth noting that the Dead isn't the only group that gets rotation at Taper Tuesday. CDs featuring guitar gods such as Steve Kimock and Michael Kang regularly circulate, along with bootlegs from Jethro Tull and Pink Floyd and even a few jazz artists, such as Miles Davis.

Harrison started the original Eugene taper gathering 13 years ago. The three-member group met once a week for lunch at the University of Oregon, picked up a couple more people and eventually moved to the East 19th Street Cafe in 1993. In December 2000, the group relocated to Chez Ray's, where its numbers have continued to increase.

These days, Taper Tuesday draws about 15 to 25 people each week. On my first visit, the numbers were low due to a Phil (Lesh) and Friends concert happening in Portland that night. I decided to return the following week, better armed for the Taper Tuesday experience.

I arrived at my second taper gathering carrying two blank CDs and a copy of "Deadhead's Taping Compendium Vol. III," a 711-page reference that Billboard magazine calls "an invaluable resource" for all collectors. This time, there were more tapers, more "tapes" - and more microbrews.

I told Harrison I was looking for copies of the only two Dead shows I had attended, the only problem being, I couldn't remember the dates or the set lists. He assured me this was a regular occurrence, then hopped on the public address system before I could protest.

"Lewis is here from The Register-Guard," he announced to the entire restaurant, a bit too loudly. "Like a lot of us, he can't remember much about the shows he went to."

Trying to be helpful, I offered a hint that the band might have played "New Minglewood Blues." The crowd heckled me because, apparently, that could mean any Grateful Dead show after 1990.

Using the combined wisdom of the crowd, my copy of the compendium and a guy at the bar who seemed to know everything, we managed to locate the dates of the two shows: Sept. 28, 1993, and Oct. 1, 1994. I also determined that there was a show on the day of my birth - May 13, 1973 - that I might be able to find.

The next step was to locate the actual recordings. Harrison, not surprisingly, had all three shows on tape. But I was looking for CDs, and so I made my way to the tapers' table - my 700-page book and a Shakespeare stout in hand - and began negotiations. In the end, I wasn't able to find a local source for the shows I wanted, but two tapers agreed to fish around for me.

I did make arrangements to get my hands on a copy of a May. 11, 1978, show from Springfield, Mass. I'm told that Jerry Garcia starts screaming in the middle of "Fire on the Mountain" and I hear the encore version of "Werewolves of London" is scorching. Let me know if you need a copy.

Lewis Taylor can be reached at 338-2512 or by e-mail at ltaylor@guardnet.com.