Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: 1973 (Page 3 of 8)

Phil Keeps An Eye On The Laborers

October 10, 2016 / / 5 Comments

phil-boston-music-hall

This is from the first show from the ’73 Boston Music Hall run, one of the proto-Wall gigs; a truck broke down, or there was a storm, or a swarm of bees fell in love with Ramrod: something happened and the stage wasn’t set until after midnight. The show went all damn night.

Now Boston’s not an all damn night town: bars close at four in the afternoon, and you get shot for trying to buy beer on Sundays. But the show went all damn night.

There’s not a lot of Dead shows where you can definitively state that the cops and the fire marshals were paid off, but this is one of them.

Also: that is the perfect length for men’s trousers, just exactly. Slight break on the shoe in the front, and parallel to the top of the heel in the back. Creepy Ernie does good work.

Also also: Creepy Ernie thought what Donald Trump said was disgusting, and rejected the excuse that it was locker room talk. Creepy Ernie spends an unbelievable amount of time in locker rooms, and has never heard anything like that.

Grateful Moose

September 11, 2016 / / 4 Comments

I’m a big fan of the Dead. I know that I don’t talk about their music any more, or recommend shows, but trust me on this one: I like the Grateful Dead. (Y’know what: you’re right. I should involve the actual music in it a little more, so go listen to 2/22/73 from the University of Illinois which has–I’m sure–many highlights, but I just put it on and, while I’ve most likely listened to it once or twice, have no memory of whatsoever. But, you know: it’s a ’73. Life is short, listen to ’73.)

So that’s the first reason why this refrigerator magnet is my new favorite thing.

Second, obviously, is the moose: I’m a big fan of moose. They are forest rhinos of North America, and they will fuck you up with hooves the size of manhole covers. Moose is is a good name for the beasts, just because of the pluralization: it’s as awkward as their lumbering amble. I also like that there are no moose in Europe.

(Business idea: sell moose to Europeans.)

It is also a gift from Brother and Sister-in-Law on the Dead (BotD and SiLotD), which means it’s a gift from people I love, and even further still a thoughtful gift from people I love, which makes it the second-best gift of all.*

The object itself is pleasing: a magnet specifically intended for your refrigerator. A mass-produced (and delivered) luxury item attached (seemingly via magic) to a box in which I control the temperature (which resides within a larger box in which I control the temperature.) You have to pile thousands of years of knowledge and technology on top of each other to make that happen. You can also freeze stuff, which we take for granted. Humans used to freeze things by waiting for winter: for the vast majority of our existence, God was the only guy who had an icemaker. Now you can make ice in minutes, and then make frozen margaritas. For those, though, you will need salt flown in from halfway across the world and it is all so very fragile and we truly seem to be FUCKING EVERYTHING UP LATELY.

…

Hey, chief.

Yelled a little.

Sure did. You need to stop reading the news sites obsessively.

Probably.

Wanna finish up?

Kay.

Get back in there, slugger.

As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, society is something something and magnets how they do they whatever.

But the best thing–the toppy-top thing–about my new fridge magnet is how lazy “Grateful Moose” is. Save this picture, Enthusiasts, and use it the next time you need to illustrate “the least you could do.”

“Jenkins, we need a design for the fridge magnet.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where are we again?”

“Maine, sir.”

“And who are we selling these chachkis to?”

“Hippies, sir.”

“Grateful Moose. Boom. Moving on.”

“It doesn’t really make much sense, sir.”

“I said we were moving on, Jenkins. Dammit, man: we’re the third-largest fridge magnet provider in Maine. There’s a lot to do!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, wait: make sure you fuck up the coloring so it looks like Grateful Mouse.”

“Of course, sir.”

*The best gift of all time was given to BotD by me: it was an invitation to the 1980 wedding of KISS drummer Peter Criss. I win gift-giving.

A Noble Show Embiggens The Smallest Enthusiast

July 27, 2016 / / 8 Comments

I’ve not recommended a show in a while, and what better way to get back into the spirit than with a show I previously recommended. (Not that I remember doing it, but the “tags” box auto-completed the date for me, so apparently I have.) Who cares, though? This one’s a barn-burner, in both the figurative and literal senses. (Garcia burned down a barn.)

3/28/73 from the Springfield Civic Center in Springfield, Massachusetts or maybe Ohio or could be New Jersey, has an hour-long Dark Star>Eyes>Playing, and that cannot be a bad thing unless you really need to go to the bathroom and want to wait until the end of the song. Go listen to the whole thing.

In fact, the show’s so good that it was released as Dave’s Picks Vol. 14, wasn’t it?

I did not recall that until I had already started writing.

Ah.

Art, No Heist

June 11, 2016 / / 2 Comments

Portable Network Graphics image-9BE945CAA02F-1

Here’s a way to lose the rest of your night in one click: Setlist Schematics by Mike Hamad, which are utterly beautiful despite being on Tumblr. His art was featured at a Yale art show this weekend; many students who did not take music theory have complained of being triggered.

The one on the left is 4/2/72 from the Boston Garden, the whole show. There is no Dark Star (Mike schematicizes a lot of Dark Stars), but there is a 20-minute Here Comes Sunshine, which I did not know was an option.

Here’s a better view:

dark star schematic

I love this one: it looks like a bunch of drunk Julliard grads wandering down the street, gossiping about the cellists.

This one’s my current favorite:

dark star schematic 4_24_72

Do you see the dragon on the right attacking the Boston Terrier on the left? I also enjoy the color.

(This is my way of confessing I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on in any of these. But, luckily, that doesn’t matter with art. Beauty is its own something-or-other.)

Go check it out, but be warned: many schematics are of Phish songs, so you will spend at least five minutes asking yourself “Why would you name a song that?”

There was another piece of art, not by Mike Hamad, at the show; he posted a picture of it on Twitter, but I saved it to my phone, so that means I have the rights to it. That’s the law of the Innertubes.

Look:

Portable Network Graphics image-DD9899E6AA09-1

I initially thought that someone had stolen the art, and that amused me, but it turns out that inside the box is a doohickey that plays the 12/6/73 Dark Star on a loop, and that also amuses me.

A Gathering Of Crowds

May 22, 2016 / / 6 Comments

band crowd 6_10_73

The Egypt shows look different depending on the angle the shot’s from.

No.

Oh, yes. Look. You can see the Sphinx.

That’s a clock. Are you wearing your glasses?

I don’t need them: I am young and vigorous, and I have the eyes of an Olympic archer.

Sure, Magoo. Check the pic again. It’s not Egypt.

…

Ah. Yes. That is obviously 9/18/87.

Have you been drinking again?

Bottles of truth.

It’s not 9/18/87.

I think I can recognize Madison Square Garden. I’ve been there dozens of times.

Garden’s got a roof, doesn’t it?

Might be retractable now. Everything is so advanced these days.

Why so weird so early?

Oh, no: wait. I see it.

Thankfully.

It’s Trafalgar Square on V-E Day.

I hate this job.

We beat the Hun!

We did, yeah.

Cinco De(ad) Mayo

May 5, 2016 / / 3 Comments

Heading into the afternoon here on the East Coast, and coasting through the morning on the Left: you need a Dead show, Enthusiasts. Coffee will only take you so far on a Thursday.

Try this one on for size: 3/24/73 from the Spectrum in Philly. This show’s got everything that the label of “1973” promises: big-ass China>Rider, 20-minute Playing, front-loaded Dark Star (all the jam is before the lyrics, instead of the usual “Garcia sings the head and then they play for a half-hour,” He’s Gone>Truckin’, plus Phil does an interpretative dance to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.

Life is short; listen to ’73. Plus, remember what Diego Rivera said:

La forma más adecuada para celebrar el Cinco de Mayo es una caliente ’73 .

You gonna argue with Diego Rivera?

The Word “Animal” Does Not Appear In A Grateful Dead Song

March 14, 2016 / / 4 Comments

There aren’t many rules. Not society’s laws (don’t shoot people in the mall) or fashion’s customs (don’t be white on Labor Day): there are multiplicities of those. I mean rules to live by. You should listen to the Dead, specifically ’73. Avoid powders and pills; and don’t do all your drugs at once. Drive like everyone else is drunk.

And don’t bother animals. Across the board. I’m not a vegan and probably never will be, but terrible as it is to admit: they’re right. You want to be eaten? No, you don’t. Nothing that conceive of being eaten wants to be eaten. That’s why gazelles evolved legs.

See an animal? Stay away from it.

HOWEVER, there are exceptions.

  • You can bother dogs and cats all you want: pretend to throw the ball, laser pointer, whatever; just record it and show me the video.
  • Okay, that’s the rule: you can only bother dogs and cats if I get to watch.
  • Obviously, that rule is for the fun and kicky definition of “bother.”
  • I’m talking about flipping their ears inside-out so they have to do their little neck spasm move to get it back, and then doing it again.
  • Dogs will let you do that move for a while because dogs are good people.
  • A good-faith effort should be made to relocate non-scary spiders found in your living room; all other insects in your home may be destroyed with impunity.
  • Alligators may be wrestled for tourists’ amusement.
  • If you can tip a cow, then go for it.
  • Try tipping a wildebeest, too.
  • Y’know: if you want to throw a flying tackle at any animal while it’s sleeping, then you may.
  • But, I want to see the video.
  • Speaking of cows, you can blow-dry them and make them fluffy, even though I’m sure that bothers them.
  • They look like this:
  • fluffy cows
  • That kind of beauty is worth bothering a cow for.
  • I wish someone would bother me like that every morning, just lead me to a barn and harness me in and glam the shit out of me.
  • You can bother fish superficially, but you have to go to where they live.
  • I figure you’re allowed to poke a perch if there’s a shot a barracuda can eat you, or an eel can swim up your asshole.
  • Horses may be ridden.
  • You may also hitch a wagon to them, but only if you’re really religious.
  • Chickens may be chased if you are training for a prizefight.
  • At any one time, only one (1) documentary team, one (1) post-doc, and one (1) nature journalist may surround a family of gorillas.
  • Marsupials may be lied to, and then later on they’ll find out and be all, “I trusted that guy,” and that will really bother them.
  • You can can make little clicking noises at squirrels until they look at you funny.
  • I don’t know if they’re bothered by it, but I love it so.
  • There is no exception to the rule when it comes to hippos: do not bother hippos in any way.
  • No good has ever come from humans and hippopotamuses coming into contact.
  • Generally, it ends two ways: dead person or captive hippo.
  • Unless you’re Pablo Escobar (who ended up dead, but not from the hippos), who imported a bunch which escaped and now there are hippos in the swamps of Colombia.
  • Good work, Pablo.
  • Returning to my libertarian beliefs when it comes to people getting eaten, if you are a comedian with no material, you can bother lions.
  • Absolutely, go to it.
  • That’s fine.
  • If you make an informed choice to square up with a lion, then I will watch.
  • (Now, if there was surveillance footage of a lion attack on an innocent person, I would never look at that. Walk up to a lion and tell it to suck your dick? I’m getting popcorn and watching you die.)
  • You may also wave a red flag in front of a bull.
  • You’re just not allowed to do the other, cowardly stuff to the bull before hand; drugged and stabbed and dying before being presented to the macho.
  • You wanna be macho, be macho: healthy bull.
  • If you absolutely must bother a bull, then do this:
  • And listen to this Me and My Uncle from 9/26/73 while you’re doing because that’s what I did and I almost threw up I was laughing so hard.
  • Now, you’re saying, that is the textbook definition of bothering an animal, TotD.
  • And yet: I’ll allow it.
  • This isn’t horse racing, which I’d outlaw my first day in the Oval Office, or dogsled racing, which I’d outlaw if Alaska were a a state: you don’t have to crack a whip to get the bull to do anything.
  • He wants to kill you.
  • To me, this implies consent.
  • Plus, the teams are mixed-gender, and parkour is so hot this year, and according to the innertubes the bull is returned to his pasture afterwards.
  • How does he explain that to the cows?
  • “Where the hell have you been?”
  • “Bessie, I have had the oddest day.”
  • TotD is now officially a fan of Bull Leaping and would like to crowdfund a professional league called the North American Bull Leaping Association.
  • Please help me fund NAmBLA by clicking on the Donate Button.
  • Thank you.

*Again I remind you of my demand to be given a Tibetan Sky Funeral.

The Jam That Should Not Be

January 4, 2016 / / 0 Comments

He’s Gone>Truckin’>The Other One>Me and Bobby McGee>Eyes isn’t supposed to happen: the songs don’t go in that order. If this sequence were a calf, it would have two heads and its heart halfway outside its asshole; the farmer would shoot it out of kindness, and fear.

It is a Set That Should Not Be, my friends. Do not repeat this set list aloud, or your hand will turn against you and try to kill you, forcing you to amputate the sucker with a chainsaw and then strap the chainsaw to your arm; also, you will say cool stuff and have great hair.

No one’s turning into Ash.

They might. That’s how good this show is. It is the jam version of the Necronomicon, and we are all porking our girlfriends in a remote cabin in the woods.

Cabin sex sounds nice.

Sure, until your girlfriend turns into a demon and eats your nipples.

That would kill the mood.

Yes. So the nice people should stay in urban settings and listen to 11/23/73 from the West Texas town of El Paso.

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