Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
The boats beating against the current is a fine closing line, and so is going on, can’t go on, must go on. And, oh, those deep glens humming with mystery, Beloved.
But I think maybe Johnny wins this one.
(FUN FACT: “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?” is not iambic pentameter, but it’s close enough for rockyroll.)
Wave it wide and high.
Precarious?
“Yo.”
What was the presentation concept here?
“This was all the speakers we had.”
You didn’t answer my question.
“Pretty sure I did.”
Was there any thought given to the aesthetics?
“I think Weir was wearing a tank top. Girls seemed to dig that.”
It’s just so janky.
“1978, man. Janky-ass year.”
Sure.
Wave it wide and high.
As we cruise into the 1980’s…
If the answer to these questions is “yes,” then you’re most likely viewing a photo of a Grateful Dead show. Thank you for your attention.
I’ve asked, but now I’m demanding: LISTEN TO THIN LIZZY.
Amazing how quickly we can accomplish miracles, Enthusiasts, if you define “miracle” as “recognizing a mass-produced object.” The guitar Bobby was playing in the last post was indeed an Ibanez, but not his custom Cowboy Fancy: it was was the MC400NT (NT meant natural, as opposed to the DS’s dark stain), and if you want a 40-year-old, overly-complicated, ridiculously-heavy axe, you can pick one up for $1,300.
Thanks go to Valued Commentator Cube, who pointed us in the right direction but inadvertently brought up another question. Cube claims that Bobby played the MC400 only once, at 1978’s premier Red Rocks shows, but further snooping reveals that the guitar was also used on June 6th in Oregon.
Look:
Did you look? I’ll just assume you looked. I’m not gonna hector you about it. If you didn’t look, well: fuck you. Why are you even here if you’re not gonna look at what I tell you to look at? Sure, sometimes I tell you to look at turtle penis, but usually not. Even the most cursory glance at the above photo would have revealed that it isn’t turtle penis, so why not look?
Y’know what? Now you can look at turtle penis.
Why do you make me do that shit? You know I love you. You know I don’t want to hurt you. But you push the goddamned issue, don’t you? And now you’re looking at turtle penis. You deserved it, too.
Anyway, Bobby’s guitar or something.
One must assume that Mickey only brought underwear and socks on tour, and each day wandered–bare-chested and half-cocked–by the merch table to yoink himself a fetching top.
OR
If Mrs. Donna Jean had balls, they’d fall out of those shorts. Balls are always looking for a way out; they’re like Papillon.
OR
What the hell is Bobby playing? It’s an Ibanez, but it’s not Cowboy Fancy. Anyone?
Hey, Keith. Whatcha doing?
“Hurmphle drup. Blaaaaah. Glunth.”
Uh-huh. You all right, pal?
PIANO PLAYER SLUMPING GRACELESSLY TO THE FLOOR NOISE
Okay, then.
…
Precarious?
“Yo.”
Keith collapsed.
“Yeah, he does that.”
Why was he set up out front, anyway?
“Makes it easier to get to him when he collapses.”
Logic.
© 2026 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments