Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: bob weir (page 1 of 186)

Kiss Me On The Bus

“Because there’s no piping system. At home, you’re either hooked up to the mains or you got yourself a private tank, but the bus toilet isn’t like that. It’s just a seat on a bucket, basically. Nothing goes away. You literally take a dump. You take it with you down the highway.”

“We all know that, Bobby.’

“I literally grew up on a tour bus, Uncle Bobby.”

“We have a plane now, Bob.”

“Number one is fine. You’re more than welcome to make number one. But, uh, no loaf-pinching.”

“Please don’t call it that.”



“All right, who’s’ ready for the tour?”

On Your Left

Takes a couple seconds to realize what’s wrong with the picture, right?


Opposite Day, as always, was a complete disaster.


“Hey, uh, guys? We wearing our enormous glasses today?”

“Obviously, Weir.”

“Yeah, man. Biggest you can find.”


If you don’t like 9/1/79, then you don’t like the Dead. And if you don’t like the Dead, why are you reading this bullshit? Who am I even addressing here? Ah, screw it: life is pointless.


Which band had the most lefties in it? I can’t think of any with more than one southpaw player. (Not counting natural lefties who learned to play right-handed because left-handed guitars were tough to find and/or more expensive.)

Pictures of Rock Stars, Some Dead

Valued Commentator JES sends in this pic in re: the Leslie ranking. Enthusiasts over the age of two will count seven–SEVEN–Leslie speakers behind the vocalist/flautist/organist/muttonchoppist of Dutch band Focus, Thijs van Leer. I gotta be honest with you: there’s such a thing as being too European. Even the Dead wouldn’t pull this shit; it’s just unAmerican*, man.

Are the British still European? I think that question is being answered on a moment-to-moment basis this week. The island of Britain sits on the same tectonic plate as the Continent, and that’s not gonna change, but every other facet of the query is up for grabs.

The phenomenal Larry Radar sent in this action shot of Ian Hunter and Mick Ronson; go check out his pics, and tell him how awesome they are so maybe he’ll dig around in his basement and find some more for us to enjoy.

This is what that photo sounded like:

(Kinda. The shot’s from 7/27/79 and the video’s from April of 1980. But the band’s the same, so close enough.)

That’s Garcia (left) with a white Stratocaster. Where did he get it? Why was he playing it? The answers are lost to the ages. However, the fantastic Michael Clem has put together a (seemingly) exhaustive photographic timeline of Garcia’s axes.

FUN FACT: It is also a photographic timeline of Garcia’s weight, and–towards the end–hair loss.


*Unamerican? UnAmerican? Un-American? They all look horrid.

If You’re Named Bill, You Get To Play The Drums

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“I thought you were dead.”

Hurricane missed us. Barely even squalled.

“Well, uh, that’s good, I suppose.”

Thank you for the endorsement.

“Just saying that if you had died, then Phil could have used your back.”

You can’t transplant a back.

“Not with your insurance plan, no, but Phil’s got Cadillac coverage.”


“No co-pay.”

Nice. What’s Walton doing?

“Attacking life with a zestful glee. And, uh, whacking the bongos.”


“Do I look like Mickey? Foreign drum’s a foreign drum.”

Is he miked?

“He thinks he is.”

You’re a good friend, Bobby.

“Yup, sure.”

You Say Smile, I Say “Cheese”

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“I was looking for my beard. Have you seen it?”

It’s about 20 years in front of you.

“Ah. Thank goodness for my powerful thighs.”

You loved that bike.

“Well, it’s like I always said: a bike is almost as good as a guitar for getting girls.”

You don’t think it helped that the person riding the bicycle was a rich, famous, handsome guy?

“That may have had something to do with it, sure. Although, I will say that a guitar is much softer on your gooch than a bike,”

Can’t argue with that.

That Was The Stupidest Thing…

I don’t know why this picture reminds me of this performance, but it does.

In Which Novelty Rears Its Head

Phil? Fat.

Garcia? Skinny.

Cowboy? Fancy.

Must be 1979. Go listen to 12/5 from the Uptown Theatre in Chicago, the third show of a run recently showcased in the Dave’s Picks series. The He’s Gone is dreamy, y’all. D-R-Eamy. Someone call the nurse, cuz Dr. Eamy is scrubbin’ in.

Are you going to be obsessed with “Dr. Eamy” now?

Yes, I am.

I Think This Is Going Nowhere


Hey, Bobby. Whatcha do–


Um, why are you yell–


Okay, that’s it for this post.

Saturday In The Park, I Think It Wasn’t The Fourth Of July

40% casualty rate is good, right?


Billy found his drum kit in a Cracker Jack box.


Why are they set up like a normal band? Pig should be on a different truck ten yards away, or Phil should be in the driver’s seat. This is, like, how you’re supposed to do it.


Phil still weighs exactly the same, and still has the same amount of hair.


Young Garcia = Chubby Slash.


That fucker was at every single rockyroll show in the 60’s. The shirtless dude with no body fat doing his freaky-deaky arm-wavey dance? He was at every show.


Obviously, Pig is not playing the gargantuan Hammond B3 organ that was his usual instrument; that is a far more portable (and affordable) Vox Continental, and it is unbelievably cool.

See? Sounds good, too:



Brothers, Brothers

“Young lady, I’m gonna need you to reassemble my piano right now.”

“It’s a harp, Bob.”

“No, no. You can’t be a harp player; my drummer would be hurling drumsticks at you.”

“I swear to you that what I’m playing is a harp.”

“Uh-huh. And was it invented–”

“Harpo Marx did not invent the harp, Bobby.”

“–by Harpo…ah. So his name was just a coincidence, then?”

“Um, sure, yeah.”

Good to know.”

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