Artist:     New Riders of the Purple Sage

Album:     Field Trip

Label:     Omnivore Recordings

Release Date:     6.20.20

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Remembered as a hot, soupy mess, what became known as the “Field Trip” took place on a steamy Aug. 27, 1972 in Veneta, Oregon, at Temple Meadow. As the Merry Pranksters wreaked havoc with their mischievous adventures, there were reports of lost kids, acid freak outs and water shortages. Somehow, New Riders of the Purple Sage managed to avoid wilting in the blazing sun.

There on a bill with the iconic Grateful Dead, the band that had essentially birthed them, the tie-dyed, country-rock ramblers rode in with Jerry Garcia out of the picture and his replacement, Buddy Cage, on pedal steel guitar. Just coming into full bloom, the New Riders of the Purple Sage had almost completely cut the apron strings with the Dead, confidently forging their own acid-cowboy identity while still high on the heady critical hosannas hurled at their sophomore LP Powerglide.

Feeling their oats, New Riders of the Purple Sage ran roughshod over the legendary benefit concert and its 20,000 attendees with a mix of golden twang, spirited locomotion, shaggy vocal harmonies and guitarist David Nelson’s zippy, blistering Telecaster runs. Charmingly shambolic, a little sweet and often as rough as a gravel road, easily throwing out amiable, freewheeling instrumental lariats to lasso every stray in the unwashed herd, their sparkling performance is presented anew in Field Trip, a well-curated, archival document of that warmly regarded, earthy set that sends its passengers hurtling back in time to the legendary benefit concert’s honky-tonkin’ cauldron of tripped-out chaos and stifling heat. Nostalgia practically drips from the colorfully exuberant and irreverent liner notes from Prankster Ken Babbs.

Coaxed from the original 16-track master tapes with surprising clarity and definition, the songs played here—covers and originals alike—are all brimming with vitality and true grit, while also giving off a mellow vintage early ‘70s glow. After opening with a high-stepping romp through “Truck Drivin’ Man,” their rumbling and shaking take on “Willie & The Hand Jive” assumes a quickening pulse, as it closes up shop with a wild, hot-wired guitar duel between Nelson and rhythm guitarist John Dawson that electrifies.

In between, they burn rubber in a smoking remake of “Hello Mary Lou,” shift into driving blues-rock in reimagining the classic “I Don’t Need No Doctor” and give their own rollicking “Louisiana Lady” a muscular, boogie-woogie workout. Amid amusing stage announcements and joking banter, which only add to the release’s engaging authenticity, the lovely drifts of “Last Lonely Eagle” and an even gentler “Lochinvar” offer respite from the madness or can be thought of as beautifully rustic paintings hung in a rowdy roadhouse, rather than an elegant gallery.

Included, too, are budding versions of songs from the band’s third LP Gypsy Cowboy, like the motoring “Groupie,” the rolling and melodic “Whiskey” and the sweet, open-hearted pleading of “Linda,” with its soft, rhythmic clickety-clack. Staggering drunkenly, “Dim Lights, Thick Smoke (And Loud, Loud Music),” written by the great Joe Maphis, is treated as if it was a sacred text of outlaw country, as they buff the barroom lament to a nice spangled shine. No chaperons are allowed on this Field Trip, where enjoyably losing yourself in the past is kind of the point.—Peter Lindblad