Three Zoomers rank Grateful Dead live albums by beer

Recently, I was standing outside after a show, chatting with a group of fellow music writers, when the conversation shifted to sponsored content and brand deals. We all shared a general distaste for the way nearly any media job now comes with the incentive to market oneself as an influencer—a job that didn’t really appeal to any of us—but that came with the asterisk of “but if people wanted to send me free stuff…”

I don’t take for granted that my job has enabled me to be on the receiving end of a lot of cool (free) stuff: concert tickets, records, merch. But it’s not like I’m getting offered comps or brand partnerships, nor do I think I should be. I’m not a particularly good salesperson. I’ll only talk something up if I really love it, and what I look like on my front-facing camera is between me, God, and the NSA. 

So when I got an email from a spokesperson at Terrapin Beer Co. telling me that the company had “recently rebranded all of its year-round beers to pay homage to classic rock bands” and asking if I’d like to receive a mailer, my first thought was: How did I get on the press list for this? My second thought was: Who cares? Someone wants to send me free beer! Not being one to look gift beers in the mouth, I sent back my address. Days later, I was the proud owner of a somewhat oddly-shaped sampler case of beers. It stood oblong and unopened, leaning up against the corner of my room for about a week while I figured out how best to put the nine, count ’em nine beers, to use. 

Though I am decidedly not a food critic, I’ve been passively seeking opportunities to break into the intersection of music and culinary journalism since I missed out on buying Wilc-Os, the Foxtrot x Wilco-branded limited-edition cereal. I also missed my chance to try both Billy Corgan’s goth Erewhon smoothie and the even more puzzling Leonard Cohen slushie created by Edith’s in collaboration with Dream Baby Press. Here, I thought, was my golden opportunity to apply my music criticism background to the food-and-beverage sector.

I knew I wasn’t going to drink nine beers on my own, so I brought the idea to my editors: a blind taste test where my assistants and I are given a list of the bands on the beer “lineup” before participating in a blind taste test in which they try to guess the band each beer is inspired by based solely on taste. I was told that as long as I didn’t make it seem like a brand partnership, go for it. Not all the beers could taste good, I reasoned. It’s not sponcon if you say negative things about the product. 

The only problem with this was that the beers and their newly rebranded packaging did not “pay homage to classic rock bands” per se. They all paid homage to individual albums by one classic rock band. Each flavor is inspired by Grateful Dead albums—mostly Grateful Dead live albums, to be specific. Rather niche, but sure. I’d known from a quick skim of Terrapin’s website that their Georgia-based company was “originally inspired by the music of the Grateful Dead,” but it appears I had incorrectly assumed they’d branched out from their Deadhead roots enough that we could do a band-ranking-blind-taste-test-type-thing. 

By the time I realized that my original plan wasn’t going to work, I had already roped in two friends who work the kind of hours that allow them to do shit like attend an impromptu beer tasting at 2 p.m. on a Wednesday. Together, we performed a ceremonial unboxing of the beers, and—as the email had instructed—peeled off the outer labels on each can to reveal the rebranded designs, along with the names of the artists who’d redesigned the cans and the Dead recordings they were inspired by. Terrapin says they pride themselves on providing “the liquid soundtrack to all your adventures.” And, well, I suppose that’s true, so long as the definition of “adventure” is loose enough to include day drinking at the apartment where I was catsitting—but is it really day drinking if it’s for work?

Before we proceed, I want to introduce my two assistants, who I asked to share a summary of how they feel about two things: beer and the Grateful Dead.

Name: Casey Epstein-Gross
Occupation: Associate Editor at Paste 
Thoughts on Beer: “I don’t particularly enjoy beer, but when I am at a loss for what to get at bars or shows, I typically get a beer because it is cheap, inoffensive, and socially acceptable in a way a hard seltzer is not. I do not like the taste of it, though.”
Thoughts on the Grateful Dead: “My dad played a ton of Grateful Dead for me on guitar when I was younger and I was very obsessed with, like, ‘Monkey and the Engineer’ and especially ‘Casey Jones’ (my dad sang it as ‘Driving that train, high on lo mein’ because he didn’t want to explain coke to a three-year-old and I loved lo mein). I know a grab bag of Dead songs through him and general cultural osmosis, but I don’t consider myself a Deadhead in particular.”

Name: Nicole Harwayne
Occupation: Musician, producer, and engineer; member of the bands Pop Music Fever Dream and ok cuddle
Thoughts on Beer: “I like beer a lot. When I was in college, I drank a lotta fancy beer because I was in Portland, Oregon, and that’s what you do there. In my ripe old age of twenty-seven, however, I’m less interested in something fancy and pretentious and more interested in something drinkable and pleasant.”
Thoughts on the Grateful Dead: “My dad loved the Grateful Dead and ran in the same circles as them, so I grew up thinking they were the coolest ever. The front person of my band also loves the Grateful Dead, so we talk about them, or whatever. And, like any self-respecting nineteen-year-old drug user, I dabbled in being a Deadhead at one point in my life. But I found trying to be a fan of theirs a little overwhelming.”

My feelings re: beer and the Grateful Dead are pretty similar, which is to say: not strong but generally positive. I enjoy both when the weather’s nice and I’m with friends. Unlike Casey and Nicole, I didn’t grow up with a Deadhead dad. Mine made fun of me when I got really into American Beauty during my junior year of high school, a phase that had more to do with the series finale of Freaks and Geeks than anything else—something my Michigan-born-and-raised boomer dad had introduced me to, thus introducing me to the Dead by proxy. I remember recreating the “Box of Rain” scene in my own bedroom with a shitty Bose speaker instead of a turntable, which, looking back on it, feels a bit sacrilegious. 

The Grateful Dead seemed like the kind of band and subcultural thing I should have at least a cursory knowledge of as a budding music nerd/teenager who was just getting into smoking weed and was in that annoying phase where you think you’ve invented the concept of smoking weed while listening to music. My Dead knowledge never went much further than that, though once I moved to Vermont for college and met people who were like, into jam bands (I’ve gone on the record as an avowed Phish hater, a blasphemous thing to be in Vermont), I found my appreciation for the Dead increased—they were the exception that proved my anti-jam band rule. Still, I knew I’d rather use time I could’ve spent becoming well-versed in all things Dead to explore the discographies of other essential artists. I was always gonna be a casual fan—the kind who’s teared up at “Ripple” on a few occasions but who wouldn’t be able to tell you the date of her favorite live rendition of it. 

So there we were, three lukewarm Grateful Dead fans staring down nine lukewarm Grateful Dead beers (I hadn’t refrigerated them because the unboxing felt crucial to the whole process). I think it was Casey who suggested that, because each beer can design was inspired by a Dead album, we should rank the albums from worst to best, based not on how they sound, but by the taste of their corresponding beers. So that’s what we did. Kind of.

9. History of the Grateful Dead, Vo.. 1 (Bear’s Choice) (1973)

Beer: Depth Perception, Double IPA
ABV: 9.1 %
Designer: Owen Murphy
Review: Murphy’s design for this heavy and hoppy IPA was inspired by sound guy Owsley “Bear” Stanley’s highlight reel of the Dead’s two-night engagement at Fillmore East in 1970. However, the beer in question was far less mellow than these recordings. It smelled a bit like bong water and didn’t taste much better. This was the one that prompted Casey to proclaim, “Yeah, I don’t like beer.” That’s not strictly why it’s in last place; really, it’s in last place because, for a moment, Nicole and I agreed with her.

8. Live/Dead (1969)

Beer: Imperial Hopsecutioner, “Killer” IPA
ABV: 9.8%
Designer: Matt Leunig
Review: This high-ABV IPA was described on its packaging as “resinous, aggressive, and big” (free dating app bio for anyone who wants it). Not sure if I’d describe the Dead’s first live album as “aggressive” but it is how I’d describe the way this beer goes down—which is to say that it sank through my esophagus like a stone. It was definitely heavy, like a loaf of bread in a can: fibrous, brown bread with seeds. If I’d drank the entire can it would’ve felt like a full meal. The Imperial Hopsecutioner smelled like pencils and kinda tasted like pencils, too. It would’ve ranked last if the impression it left wasn’t so affecting. “It’s not great, but it’s a powerful experience,” Nicole said. I’ve yet to listen to Live/Dead all the way through, but I’ll have to assume that it’s just as powerful as the Imperial Hopsecutioner, if not more.

7. Dave’s Picks, Vol. 53 (2025)

Beer: Coastal Daydream, West Coast-style IPA
ABV: 6.3%
Designer: Justin Helton
Review: Justin Helton must be either a contrarian, a real head, or both. It’s a bold move picking a live album so new that it hasn’t even been released digitally yet. Unfortunately, the (I assume) polarizing choice of album does not extend to the flavor profile of its accompanying beer, which tastes like a watered-down version of the Depth Perception (already a consensus least favorite among the three of us). I’m not sure what “West Coast-style” means here, but as our resident Bay Area native Nicole remarked, “This tastes nothing like California.”

6. To Terrapin: Hartford ’77 (2009)

Beer: RecreationAle
ABV: 4.2%
Designer: Brian Steely
Review: I had high hopes for this one, considering it corresponds with the beer company’s namesake song and album. But I took one sip and said to my companions, “This tastes like dirt water,” to which Nicole replied—happily—“This does taste like dirt water!” Casey thought it had a milky aftertaste (neither Nicole nor I picked up on this). There was some kind of aftertaste, though; something a bit metallic? It’s a beer that goes down easy but stays down weird, taking me back to my days of playing Ragecage—a drinking game that necessitates a large quantity of thin, watery, piss-cheap beers like PBR or Genesee. Nicole called it “accessible and full of hooks, but conceptually hollow” (my own inability to differentiate between Nicole’s thoughts on the beers and her thoughts on their accompanying music will become a running theme here), but she agreed that it was a Ragecageable beer: “You could drink this in a basement but A) you have to be nineteen and B) you have to have twelve of them.”

5. Live/Dead (1969)

Beer: Hopsecutioner, “Killer” IPA
ABV: 7.3%
Designer: Matt Leunig
Review: A slightly less aggressive version of the Imperial Hopsecutioner, packaged in the same artist’s handiwork and inspired by the same live album. I guess Leunig’s a real Live/Dead diehard. This version of the Hopsecutioner was much more amenable to our tastes. Definitely sharp and woodsy and hoppy like its heavier counterpart, but its Lumberjackian flavor profile manifested in more pleasant notes of campfire. It kinda tasted how a wood-burning pizza oven smells. Not bad at all. I guess the album’s better on a re-listen?

4. Road Trips Vol. 2 No. 3 – Wall of Sound (2009)

Beer: Sound Czech, Czech-style Pilsner
ABV: 5.2%
Designer: Brandon Casey
Review: This one had a lovely light amber color and crisp taste. Drinkable, but nothing to write home from the Czech Republic about. A bit of a sharp, zippy aftertaste, which I liked but Casey didn’t. “Casey, I feel like the problem is that you want beer to be like liquor,” I told her, meaning either one-and-done or easily disguised, not something you’ve gotta really linger with in order to consume. She responded, “No, the problem is that I want beer to be like water.”

3. Anthem of the Sun (1968)

Beer: Luau Krunkles, Passionfruit-Orange-Guava IPA
ABV: 6.5%
Designer: Owen Murphy
Review: The description for this beer opened with “Krunkles is back…” I don’t know who or what Krunkles is or where they’ve returned from, but I think we collectively decided that Krunkles was the name of the terrapin turtle mascot that appeared in some of the designs. I was excited for this one, as I generally like a citrus-y beer. The tropical fruit flavors definitely came through for a fresh, summery feel—ideally what I’m looking for in both a beer and a Grateful Dead song. Or, as Nicole summed it up: “You’re on the fire escape, it’s seventy-six degrees, Jerry’s rippin’ a solo.”

2. Grateful Dead (Skulls & Roses) (1971)

Beer: Cerveza Mexican-style lager
ABV: 5.1%
Designer: Brian Steely
Review: Unless I’m getting a Miller Hi-Life, Mexican beers tend to be my go-tos. I like a Modelo, I like a Corona, and this one, though technically domestic, tasted similar enough. Would’ve gone well with a lime if we’d had any, or a shot of tequila if I wasn’t committed to only drinking for professional purposes (anything other than this lineup of Terrapin Beer Co. branded beers and I would no longer be a journalist on assignment, I would just be a daydrinking shithead). This one had a distinctly floral scent—one so pleasant that if Terrapin decided to pivot to the fragrance sector I would buy a Cerveza Lager scented perfume in a heartbeat. It came pretty late in the lineup, so frankly, I’m not sure if it was an exceptionally drinkable beer or if I’d just had enough beer already that anything would go down relatively easy.

1. Aoxomoxoa (1969)

Beer: High & Hazy IPA
ABV: 5.8%
Designer: Derek Perez
Review: I actually liked the Mexican-style lager better but am ranking this #1 because A) Casey and Nicole liked it best, so I was outnumbered, and B) of the few Dead albums I’ve listened to, Aoxomoxoa is my favorite. Is that breaking the rules of this game that didn’t exist until minutes before we started playing it? Probably. But in my defense, Aoxomoxoa isn’t even a live album, so they broke the rules too. Still, Aoxomoxoa rules and so does this juicy, refreshing IPA that Nicole described as “accessible, with enough depth to keep you interested.” Honestly an apt description of the album as well.

Bonus Round: Suicide: Terrapin Beer Edition

Because none of us were trying to get too sloshed on a weekday afternoon, we didn’t finish any of the beers; instead, we took just a shot of each one (we keep it classy here). But that left us with nine half-drunk beers, so we decided to end the game with a suicide round. (For the uninitiated, a suicide is when you go down the lineup of a soda fountain and mix every soda together. It’s a popular thing for the kid you went to school with who used to flip his eyelids inside out or set bugs on fire to dare himself to do.) We poured a splash of each beer into one cup and each took a ceremonial sip. The verdict? Tastes like beer! Not pleasant or gentle to the senses, but far from the most potent mixture of substances consumed while listening to the Dead. Also definitely not the worst in the lineup (I’d put it somewhere between seven and eight).

Pour one out for Bob Weir, everyone.

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