Here's a review of the show from The Grateful Dead Guide:-


SET I

These songs are all standard for the run, with no standouts until the end. (The first sets tend not to vary that much from one show to the next,  other than a few song selections. For instance 3/26 omits a few of my favorites – Bertha, China > Rider, Cumberland Blues…) 
After a couple minutes of tuning, the band starts the show off with Greatest Story Ever Told. 
After a pause, they decide on Cold Rain & Snow for the next song, as Lesh announces: “These decisions always take time, folks… We’ve gotta  consult with our advisors.” 
Then Weir notices someone with a request - 
Weir: “There’s a guy that’s been out there somewhere around there for the last few nights.” 
Garcia: “Let’s have a light out there, let’s have a look at this guy! Who is this guy, anyway?” 
Weir: “He’s been hollering ‘Alligator,’ and that’s no joke, there’s an alligator that lives out there under rows double-E and double-F, seats 4, 5 and 6,  and you wanna watch out for that.” 
Whoever this guy was, he apparently didn’t let up - you can still hear him hollering “Alligator” on the 3/27 AUD - and on 3/28 after Mexicali Blues,  someone’s still calling for Alligator, and Lesh felt the need to speak up too: 
“Hey, for all you Alligator fans out there...we understand there's a lot of Alligator fans out there, but we done forgot it, see. And so we're gonna  have to remember it sometime later, you know.”
Even on the Europe tour, Weir still remembered this guy – in the 4/11 Newcastle show after Brown Eyed Women, someone else yells for Alligator  (hopefully not the same guy!), and Weir replies: 
“The guy hollering Alligator is serious. He's dead serious. There's an alligator in the Academy of Music. He lives under, I think rows triple-C and  triple-D. And he wakes up for the rock and roll shit. So there's always some dude back there hollering ‘Alligator! Alligator!’ and everybody else  thinks he's making a request.” 
At any rate, the band never played Alligator again, though they had brought back Caution for Pigpen’s final tour. 

3/26 continues with Cold Rain & Snow, then a couple new songs: Chinatown Shuffle (which had debuted on 12/31/71), and Black Throated Wind (a  newly-recorded song for Ace). After a little more tuning, a few more songs familiar from ‘71 follow - You Win Again, Mr Charlie, Jack Straw, and  Loser.
Then we have some more banter – Lesh asks the audience: “Did I hear a request for Psychedelic Dildo? - Must be my hearing…” Someone in the band mentions “Steely Dan,” and Lesh cracks up on the mike, causing feedback. “Watch out for that 1600 cycles, it’ll get ya every time!” The rest of the  band is quite amused by this: “Steely Dan, ha ha!” 
(The surprising thing about this is that the band Steely Dan had just been formed, and wouldn’t release any music for months yet, so the Dead must have been tickled by the name alone – it was the name of a dildo in Burroughs’ novel Naked Lunch. The Dead were joking not about a rival band  onstage, but about beat literature!) 
Weir announces: “First seven-eighths of this set is dedicated to Vic Tanny and associates the world over, for no reason at all.” (Vic Tanny was a  bodybuilder and gym owner, so we can see how that train of thought developed…) 

Then Weir sings Looks Like Rain, another new Ace song. As throughout this run, Garcia plays pedal steel on this song (as he had on the album) and  Phil sings boisterous harmony. (Garcia had stopped playing pedal steel with the New Riders a few months earlier in November ’71, and hadn’t played  it with the Dead since February ‘70. But a hopeful Weir had told the Harvard Independent back in February ’71, “I would like to see Jerry back us  on pedal steel and we could do a few country numbers, which I certainly wouldn’t mind doing.” The idea wouldn’t last beyond the start of the Europe  tour, though.)
After Looks Like Rain, Lesh pays their latest member a compliment: “That’s Keith, and he’s our new piano player. He’s been with us for quite a while  now – part of the family, you might say. Actually, he’s our old piano player – we just didn’t know it for a long time.”
Big Railroad Blues and Big Boss Man follow, then they spend a couple minutes tuning for Playing in the Band. Lesh comments: “And now we’re gonna  play a song that’s about playing a song that’s about playing a song…” There seems to be some muttering about the sound system, though, and Lesh  addresses the sound crew: “Hey, they’re all crying down here for us to make it louder. You know what that means.” 

Playing is excellent as always. (One notable thing about this Playing is that it’s the last version for a long time with no Donna!) The band keeps up a  churning rhythm as Garcia floats majestically over the top, alternating wah-wah wails, sustained cries and rapid flurries, climaxing in screeching trills that Godchaux balances perfectly on piano. Kreutzmann really kicks through the jam, and Godchaux adds jazzy piano tinges – he’s very up-front in  his playing, goading Garcia on. The jam calms down and then swells in intensity again – finally the band coalesces in an awesome extended single- chord crescendo that gradually quiets down for a return of the Main Ten riff. This is still done more quickly than it would be later in ’72, indeed  Garcia rushes back to the chorus too soon! (It’s always impressive how carefully they handle the quiet outro after the last chorus, though.) 

After a brief cowboy detour into El Paso, it’s time to close the set, and Kreutzmann starts off Good Lovin’ with the familiar drumbeats. This is a  textbook version of Good Lovin’, full of driving hot rhythms meant to get the audience boogieing – it’s very similar to the 3/21 version. Pigpen sings  his standard rap with feeling – it’s not about the words, but about the chantlike feel of his repeated lines – then he steps back with a wail and lets  the band tear into a jam. It’s all about the nonstop rhythm, but sometimes Garcia rips out some great leads. Midway they suddenly stop and resume  quietly under Pigpen’s rap, like a practiced r&b band. There’s so much forward momentum, it’s a surprise when they pause to return to the main riff;  they prolong it so Pigpen can time the end of his rap with the chorus. 
They slam to a strong ending, and Pigpen says: “Thank you. We’re gonna take a short break now, and we’ll be back in a few minutes.” (This is rare! I  can’t think of many times when Pigpen announced the set-break.)

SET II

They did Truckin’ at four shows on this run (every other show), and each time it always started the set. So after some tuning, it’s no surprise to  hear Truckin’ – and it’s a lot more driving than on 3/21. The band pours enthusiastically into the strong jam, Garcia especially blazing. After truckin’  on for a couple minutes, they calm down for a bit, then heat right back up again for another climax. After the last chorus is repeated, the music  dissolves and rearranges as hints of the Other One slip into the jam. Space opens up for an interlude between bass, drums, piano & rhythm guitar –  the band starts to resemble a chamber-jazz combo, and Garcia drops in some sweet lines. Lesh, Kreutzmann & Godchaux start a funky little vamp,  which gradually turns into a remarkable full-fledged jam of its own. Weir adds a nice chord backing, Garcia re-enters and fits in some perfect lines,  and the music takes on a warm, somehow familiar feeling. They roll along for a bit, as if letting the music play itself – then the theme passes and the jam breaks up. After a few rhythmic dead ends, Lesh keeps rolling out false starts to the Other One; but it’s time for drums. The others drop out,  and Kreutzmann gets the spotlight. (The whole Truckin’ jam was 13 minutes, much longer than any Truckin’ had gone before.)
After a few minutes of drums, the Other One comes in with a bang. It’s very energetic - fast Garcia runs, darting bass, tumbling drums, and punchy  rhythm. The jam stays centered on the Other One theme for a few minutes – there’s a tough, aggressive feel, the instruments whirling like a flock  of hungry birds in a quick climax. (As the band quiets down, the crowd can be heard cheering.) Once they’ve worked out the knots, they start to  drift and leave the rhythm. The music washes like an abstract sonic wave, toms rolling as the band surges together. Everyone starts playing fast  notes, creating a bubbling effect, as Lesh’s bass lead ties it all together. The piano guides them into an alarming space – Garcia cries out, Weir  warbles feedback, Kreutzmann thumps and rattles, Godchaux stabs out piano clusters, and Lesh underpins them with a giant rumble. Fragments of  the Other One theme start to creep back in like little echoes, and they slowly reform around it - the twirling strands of music fly out freely, then  pull together in an insistent rhythm, made solid by Kreutzmann’s drumbeat. Weir very quickly sings the verse (and Pigpen suddenly appears on organ,  just in time). 
They stay on theme after the verse, still going frantically pell-mell as if they’re running a race. Pigpen stays on organ, adding a nice circus texture.  They tumble forward, so it sounds like they’re going straight for the second verse, but then put on the brakes. The guitars start a repeating two- chord pattern – and suddenly things get dense, and they fall into another pounding climax with Weir and Garcia struggling together in noisy  confusion. Lesh unwinds from this with twisting bass lines as Godchaux hits a few fractured chords. Weir starts a spiraling line, and Garcia plays a  tormented lead over it. Pigpen is still swirling in the backdrop, and the mood is very heavy. Lesh nudges them back to the Other One theme again,  but it doesn’t last for long. Garcia keeps playing an especially distressed-sounding lead, and the band scatters back to arrhythmic wildness - bass  grunts, ringing organ, odd chords from Weir & Godchaux, and Garcia’s piercing keens. Then there’s a little passage of Weir chimes and bass groans  with light piano/organ backing. When Garcia comes back in, they all combine in a brief harmonic maelstrom, the instruments twisting around each  other in hideous beauty. It subsides, and there’s a little drum break as the audience cheers. Garcia percussively beats on his strings and Lesh plays  along with the rhythm; Weir returns with a strum, and suddenly before knowing it, they have entered Me & My Uncle. (24 minutes into the jam.)
After this jaunty western interlude, Weir and the band dash straight back into the Other One riff out of the song. Kreutzmann’s banging hard on  the drums, but they tone it down for a quiet segment. Garcia does a pretty solo over Weir’s subdued chords - Lesh initially plays the root notes but  then starts following Garcia’s lines in a duplicate lead. He drops to low repeating notes, and Garcia climbs up the frets to a high note, joined by  Pigpen in a small finale. After some momentary uncertainty, Lesh hints at the Other One theme; Weir & Kreutzmann grab on, and they lead the band back to the second verse.
The Other One crashes to a somewhat unsynchronized end (this epilogue was about five minutes long); when Garcia starts up the Wharf Rat chord,  and the others slowly tumble in. It’s a fine, strident version, with another long solo at the end – which comes across as more upbeat, less poignant  than on 3/21, and ends with a march of slow harmonics and drums, and a final cry of feedback. 
(Definitely no shiny melodic jams in this Other One! It’s very dense, driving, and focused – the groupmind is quite impressive as the music  disintegrates and coalesces at will. Stormclouds thunder through the jams here; with its raging, heavy atmosphere, it looks forward to the Other  Ones of late ’72.)

Weir perks things up again with a fast, standard Sugar Magnolia. Then they slow things down for Pigpen’s new song Two Souls, which they  performed at six of these shows – it has a nice Garcia solo and a long, emotive ending as Pigpen sings, “Won’t somebody please help me!” (Note that  the band hasn’t yet added the “whoa-oh” backing vocals at the end that they would do in Europe.)
Lesh immediately starts the Not Fade Away riff, and Kreutzmann obliges by starting the beat. NFA closed four shows in this run - like Truckin’, it  was done at every other show. (On 3/21 it was rather brief and perfunctory; 3/23 and 3/28 were both good versions, but very similar – they’d  streamlined NFA since the giant jams of late ’71.) It’s a typically hard-driving version, not too different from the others, though there’s a nice  reflective passage before Goin’ Down the Road starts, that almost goes into China Cat mode. (They would extend this idea in the 3/28 version.)  Goin’ Down the Road rocks out, and the Goodnight coda is reasonably extended before the band stomps back into Not Fade Away. (This is also the  last version of Goin’ Down the Road without Donna, as she joins in the chorus on 3/28.) I like how Weir & Pigpen both sing the “not fade away”  closing – Pigpen has impeccable timing. 
The band leaves as Weir says, “See y’all later, folks.”