If ya mix some of Owlsey’s acid with a lil DNA from Jerry’s middle finger, you get Bertha. Or so Greeley Duvall described for us to open the evening of Bertha: Grateful Drag at Chicago's Thalia Hall on Saturday, February 1, 2025.
Kicking off the night, Greeley Duvall set the tone by reading Bertha’s origin story. Have you read it? It has something to do with Area 51, DNA samples, and Jerry’s middle finger. It’s hilarious and perfectly set the stage for how Baby 'Barbie' Bertha, Auntie Bertha, Big Daddy Bertha, Momma Bertha, Big Sister Bertha, and the Bertha twins came to become this solidified group of performers. It was profound and something truly special to behold. There’s a little something for everybody. Bertha is everybody.
Khruangbin never performs without their wigs; I sense the anthem of this kind that will be taking the stage for the next four years. If we gotta hide, might as well make it fabulous! The fierce femme feeling matching that self-expression of the Grateful Dead is everything! Speaking of men in tights, Holy Harmonies, Batman!
It’s incredible to me that there has not been a diversity of voices like this to do the songs of the Grateful Dead. Shout out to Brown Eyed Women, but if there are, what, 800 Grateful Dead tribute bands out there, only two have formed with a main focus on femininity? Huh.
Improvisational music with grand fashion—it’s so fun to dress up! Deadheads are the most colorful slice of the pie. What a fabulous pairing. Allow yourself to be beautiful just as you are. You don’t need a badge on a gatekeeping uniform handed to you by a country club industry. There is room for us all, especially under the umbrella of the Grateful Dead. There is a mosaic of voices, and these ladies let it all ring out.
If the thunder don’t get you, then the lightning will! The proposed Adult Entertainment Act of 2023 in Tennessee was overturned, but the fact that folks are willing to write and pass legislation aimed at LGBTQ visibility when we clearly have bigger fish to fry means the pole dancers and drag queens will probably become even more recognized as an art form over the next four years. It’s funny—when you try to erase certain types, they always seem to multiply in resistance.
We don’t die; we multiply!
It’s an invitation across the nation, a chance for folks to meet.
The fusion of the Grateful Dead and drag is progress, and I can never go back. If you close your eyes, it’s Dolly Parton mixed with Susan Tedeschi and a femme feeling for harmonies that carry the music beyond my wildest dreams. "Deal" was always meant to be sung by a woman.
“Since it costs a lot to win and even more to lose You and me bound to spend some time wonderin' what to choose Goes to show, you don't ever know Watch each card you play and play it slow”
Every woman who has ever claimed their rightful place on stage was accounted for with ferocity. It was, for me, the day Donna got her proper dues. It was the Go-Go’s even brighter than the ‘80s neon.
Catching a cocktail in the adjoined Tack Room, Dead Inside the DJ, with the headline “All Live, All Vinyl, All Dead,” was spinning some tunes when Baby and Big Daddy graced us with their presence. When they left, we knew the show was about to begin. Big Daddy is otherwise known as Melody Walker. She could have been hobnobbing at the Grammy Nominee party in LA, but instead, she and her band were here to raise money for Brave Space Alliance, a Southside Chicago nonprofit that benefits LGBTQ folks with everything from clothing, accessories, and hair care needs to food and housing. She flew out the next morning to accept her Grammy for Best American Roots Song, co-written with Sierra Ferrell, American Dreaming.
E Pluribus Unum—out of many, one. As Bob Weir said in their acceptance speech, “You get some, ya give some back.” That’s what Jerry told him. The community lifts us up, and the music lifts up the community. It’s a symbiotic relationship all us Deadheads respect.
If this is all too complex for a simple show review, I can make room for the vanilla too. Here is a review for the folks who want me to just stick to the music:
Under the shimmering stage lights of Thalia Hall, a sold-out crowd bore witness to Bertha, another Grateful Dead cover band. Will Bertha take the ranks of JRAD? Probably not. But maybe. It’s more show tunes and less jammed-out grooves, but there is "Drums in Space," and they have a long road ahead of them.
They opened the set with a theatrical invitation that burst into "Truckin’." From there, we saw a lot of making out in the crowd as they launched into "Jack Straw" and rounded the corner into "They Love Each Other." Perhaps in time, Bertha will rock out with Melvin Seals. I could see Bertha selling out the Hollywood Bowl with Grahame Lesh and Friends in circular song together. They perform the Deadhead’s dream—two full sets, taking the stage a little late so we can share one more puff together before piling in to see the band. It’s a tribute act, so we act tribunal. They play the catalog of songs we all know and love, and for a couple of hours, we can be together and lift each other up. Ah, boo, I can’t do it. Swim in the shallow end and read a Bertha review somewhere else. Scroll on if you don’t like what I’m saying.
It’s more than a cover band—it’s a movement. Hitting the road to bring tunes and charity? Besides all that, "Dancing in the Streets" has never sounded better. The rules are simple—don’t be or say anything that could signal your inner male chauvinist pig beliefs, and you’ll have a real good time. Hot Tawdry will make sure of that. Bertha brought up a local burlesque dancer to do "Loose Lucy." Won’t you come with me? It was HAWT! The showcase of mutual aid for our city makes us love you even more. “I like your smile, but I ain't your type. Don’t shake the tree when its fruit ain't ripe,” takes a whole new meaning with Bertha.
As the night built to its climax, Bertha celebrated Big Daddy for winning her grammy. They awarded her a fabulous pendant and wished her luck as tomorrow she would board the plane to accept her award. The crowd went crazy and she stepped right up to St Stephen. There was a lot of smacking asses. The performance was a joyous rebellion and these gals were our Mulan.
From "Iko Iko" to "Terrapin Station," every note rang with a chorale of sirens tonality. Baby Bertha took the Bob Weir leg, Big Sissy with her Phil armband, the keys were crisp and clear, just how I like 'em. Deadheads shared the lore of these songs, passing them down like treasured heirlooms. As Box of Rain echoed throughout the room, the wonders of nature echoed through our hearts. “What do you want me to do? To do for you? To see you through…” Angels on high.
The inevitable “One More Saturday Night” rolled away the dew. The band left the stage for the evening and the house lights came up. Lenny Kravitz played overhead, “It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over” The merch booth flooded with fans and the band joined us later for meet n greets. Floating back to the streets, we were dancing in Chicago.
Check out more PHOTOS from the show
