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Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt
Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt

Grateful Dead - Old Dead Head 72´ - Kids Sweatshirt

Regular price $42.77 Sale

If you are looking for cool kids sweatshirt designed by Grateful Dead "Store Your Face" you have come to the right place! The sweatshirt is available in 10 colors and five sizes from Extra Small to Extra Large. The print is on the back side of the sweatshirt. We are convinced that you will be satisfied with this purchase 😉

About the product:

  XS S M L XL
Width, in 14.17 15.35 17.32 19.29 21.26
Length, in 16.54 18.50 20.47 22.44 24.41
Sleeve length, in 13.39 15.35 17.32 19.29 21.26

A kids sweatshirt has quality construction - demonstrated by the tight seams, neck taping, and ribbed-knit collar. The fabric holds up to printing well. This makes for a solid year-round customization opportunity. These items are available in a variety of colors. The custom kids sweatshirt is a chance to display personalization at any time.

.: 80% Cotton 20% Polyester
.: Medium Heavy fabric (9.9 oz/yd² (280 g/m²))
.: Stylish Fit
.: Tear away label
.: Runs true to size

Three Essential Grateful Dead Shows

Winterland, San Francisco
March 18th, 1967
Warner Bros. Records released the Dead’s debut album, The Grateful Dead – a sonically brittle, high-speed version of the group’s stage act and songbook – on March 17th, 1967. That evening and again on the 18th, the Dead opened for Chuck Berry at Winterland, performing much of that record’s material on the second night with more natural vigor and plenty of room for Garcia to go long and bright on lead guitar. His fusion of folk guitar and bluegrass facility with blues language and Indian modality, shot forward in a clean, stinging treble, is on dynamic display in a rightly extended “Cream Puff War” (cruelly faded out after two minutes on the LP), Martha and the Vandellas’ “Dancing in the Street” and the Dead’s signature rave-up on “Viola Lee Blues,” originally cut in 1928 by Cannon’s Jug Stompers. Also note the thrilling, slippery surge underneath – bassist Phil Lesh and drummer Bill Kreutzmann pushing and tugging at the beat – as Garcia affirms his nickname, “Captain Trips,” overhead.

 

The Matrix, San Francisco
December 1st, 1966
In late 1966, more than a year into their evolution, the Grateful Dead were still in the early stages of their psychedelia: an acid-dance band with bar-band aggression, tripping in its jams but just starting to write and largely reliant on folk and blues covers. These three sets at the Matrix – a club founded by Jefferson Airplane‘s Marty Balin – catch the original quintet in primal, exuberant form, slipping early originals such as “Alice D. Millionaire” (a pun on a newspaper headline after Owsley, the band’s sound man and resident chemist, was busted) amid R&B-party favors (the Olympics’ 1960 hit “Big Boy Pete”) and future cover staples including the traditional “I Know You Rider” and John Phillips’ “Me and My Uncle.” In a spirited thrashing of “New Minglewood Blues,” guitarist Bob Weir sings like a hip, brash kid, which he was (Weir had recently turned 19). “Welcome to another evening of confusion and high-frequency stimulation,” Jerry Garcia announces in the first set. The long, strange trip was under way.

 

Dance Hall, Rio Nido, California
September 3rd, 1967
Time was an elastic concept on a Grateful Dead stage – a song ended only when every possibility embedded in the structure and set loose by the group’s improvising empathy was tested and fulfilled. Lesh thought enough of this night’s 31-minute stretching of Wilson Pickett‘s “In the Midnight Hour” – most of it given to Garcia and organist Ron “Pigpen” McKernan’s hard-lovin’ vocal charm – to include it on his 1997 live anthology, Fallout From the Phil Zone. “Song” is a loose word here: Choruses and chord progressions are departure points. “Viola Lee Blues” is epic, rude hypnosis, twice the length of the version on The Grateful Dead. The accelerating instrumental break is a glorious connected fury – five voices racing in parallel but jamming as one. The long, early roll on “Alligator,” a chugging, spaced-blues feature of 1968’s Anthem of the Sun, was further evidence that the Dead’s rapidly advancing idea of dance music on that album – a combination of acid, freed rhythm and no fear – was on its way.

 

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