Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: bob weir (Page 25 of 198)

To Lay Me Down

November 10, 2018 / / 0 Comments

He will do this until he cannot. A stool can be provided. The Blues guys all got stools when they got old, except for John Lee Hooker, who always had a stool because he was always old. Bobby will be provided a stool again, and then he will continue the tour. Never will Bobby be without a next show. And he will ride into the halls of Valhalla…ah, Jesus. Bobby?

“Sure?”

Your amplifier is sleeping on the job.

“Oh. No. Just looks that way. Experiment in sound. We’re asking sonic questions.”

Such as?

“‘How does it sound?’ That’s a big one. Huh. Y,know I guess there’s only one sonic question. It’s a complicated one, though.”

Looks it. How goes the Wolf Bros shows?

“Well, they ain’t throwing stuff at us. That’s, you know, the bottom line. Everything is secondary to that. Every show I play in 2018 is better than any show in the 70’s because no one is hurling unopened cans of Pabst at my head.”

It was a barbaric decade.

“Now, see, it wasn’t the Deadheads. They’d throw shit, but it would be roses or joints or whatever. It was when we played somewhere where the audience was just coming out to see the show and party. And they’d drink Gallo wine and take reds. This, uh, this made them excitable. And vicious. Like, uh, spoiling for a fight. One time a guy hucked a full pony keg at us. It took out the drum kit.”

How did someone manage that?

“Up in the mezzanine, the crew found the pieces to a…what’s the thing that isn’t a catapult?”

A trebuchet.

“There you go.”

Someone brought a trebuchet to a concert?

“This is what was reported to me in the van after the show. But, you know, it’s not like some dude chucked it.”

True.

“Or coins. Every once in a while, a half-dollar would come whizzing out of the darkness. And, uh, I didn’t think I deserved that. No one does, if we’re honest. Some people would argue that it would be all right to throw coins at evil dictators. But, uh, I’m not an evil dictator.”

You are not. You should not have coins thrown at you.

“Gotta say: I prefer the theaters full of well-behaved rich people to the fields full of shirtless yokels.”

No argument.

TotD: Your Home For News

November 6, 2018 / / 1 Comment

Welcome back to Election Night: Live From Fillmore South. The polls are starting to close and early results are coming in. Former Clintonista Donna Shalala has taken the Florida 27th, and Robert Menendez, who is a criminal, has held onto his Senate seat in New Jersey. For a closer look at some important races, we’re going to toss it to…ah, for fuck’s sake.

“Hiya.”

Bobby, this is a political post. I need someone to analyze the Midterm results.

“Right, right. That’s what the bunny is for.”

The bunny doesn’t know anything about American governance.

“You’d, uh, be surprised. Was an American Studies major at Yale.”

The bunny?

“Yeah.”

Okay. Bobby, I’ll get back to you. There’s some big news coming in from Indiana, where the Republican  Mike Braun has defeated his Democratic opponent Joe Donnelly to win a Senate seat. Here with an insider’s take on the race is…c’mon, man.

“How y’all been doin’, sugar?”


Hi, Mrs. Donna Jean.

“Izzit Arbor Day already? I ain’t tended t’ mah peach trees in a hound’s age.”

It’s Election Day.

“Oh, Ah don’t know nothin’ ’bout no electioneering. Mah husband votes for me, like th’ Bible says.”

Uh-huh.

“There was one ol’ boy Ah followed ’round when Ah was a young’un. State Senator named Sticky Foote from Heironymous over in Chillafunky County.”

You made all of that up.

“Mah, could Sticky speechify. Promised a possum in every pot.”

Don’t you mean chicken?

“No, sugar. Alabama did’n get no chickens ’til ’round 1980. Back then, we mostly et possum an’ snake.”

Uh-huh.

“But Sticky was gonna turn all that ’round for us. Bring Alabama into th’ 19th century.”

20th.

“Stop correctin’ me, sugar. Ah know what Ah said.”

Sorry.

“Than man could fit more pomade in his hair than any Ah’ve seen since. And he was very progressive. Given the tahm and place, y’unnerstand. He was completely against lynchin’, less’n it was justified.”

Sure. I need to get back to the election, Mrs. Donna Jean.

“Stop on bah whenever you in the area, sugar.”

Yes, ma’am. With polls closing in important Midwest states, TotD can now confirm that Joe Manchin, who is a Democrat even though no one can tell me why, has won reelection in West Virginia. For a breakdown of his victory, we go to the head of the West Virginia desk…no. No, no, no, no, no.

“MY SUIT CONTAINS MANY VIRGINIAS.”

Dammit, Ye, you don’t know anything about…well, anything. You are less than helpful when discussing election results.

“I VOTED FOR DONALD TRUMP.”

He wasn’t running this time.

“NEVER LIMIT MY VOTING. I CAST VOTES ALL THE TIME. ME AND VIRGIL ABLOH ARE REDESIGNING BALLOTS.”

Take your medicine.

“I DO NOT NEED MEDICINE BECAUSE I HAVE THE BIGGEST SUIT.”

Okay. I’m just gonna call this whole thing off. Maybe rethink my approach.

They Is Who They Is

November 1, 2018 / / 8 Comments

Hey, guys. I had an idea. Why don’t you cover an album by a fictitious band? Like, you write a whole record’s worth of new material and pretend it came from another band. Maybe a comically foreign band, I don’t know. And then you seed the internet with information about the fictitious band to further the ruse. How about that?

“That sounds like a lotta work, man.”

“What are we, fuckin’ nerds?”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Tell me more about the drums.”

“I’m happy with whatever the decision is.”

“Look how handsome I am.”

You do look handsome, Bobby, but what do you think about the idea?

“Of being handsome? Thought quite a bit of it. Then, uh, I ran with it.”

That’s Some Damn Good Bobby-Pointin’

October 24, 2018 / / 6 Comments

Hey, Bobby. Please don’t–

“You know Branford.”

–call that man Branford. He is named Joe Louis Walker.

“Tremendous name.”

The history of the Grateful Dead vis-à-vis race relations has never been written, has it?

“We had great race relations. We didn’t see color.”

Uh-huh.

“Honestly. For about a month in ’69, everyone’s vision was black and white. Bear got something wrong in the formula. But we also didn’t care if you were black, as long as you were a top-level musician or dating Pigpen. We did that Black Panther benefit.”

Right. How was that?

“Tense. But, you know, those guys were on edge.”

Sure.

“Oh, and: one of my best friends is black. You know him. Jimi Hendrix.”

I forgot.

“Progressive organization from top to bottom. Except for the Road Crew. They, uh, were mostly from rural Oregon, and I’ll just leave it at that. And Billy. Other than that, though: top to bottom.”

Good to hear.

Three Days Between

October 22, 2018 / / 3 Comments

“Slash, you look terrible. Is the hat magic or something?”

“Bobby, I’m not Slash.”

“Currently?”

“Ever.”

“Ah. Were you a part of his combo?”

“No, I was in Jane’s Addiction. We were nothing like Guns N’ Roses, except musically and aesthetically and we liked heroin, too. They dated Playmates and Pets and supermodels, and we dated chicks with Betty Page haircuts who lived in Venice. Huge difference.”

“Sure, sure. And, uh, you boys played that real aggressive-type music, too?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“That was banned in the van. Heavy mental records. We’d rotate who got to choose the tape, and Billy would pick these godawful thrashing bands. And, uh, it would get him too excited. There were a number of incidents. You ever hear of Krokus?”

“I’ve heard of Krokus.”

“Billy loved Krokus. No one understood it. We had a ‘live and let live’ policy, but you’re over the line when you’re blasting Krokus and roundhouse kicking Brent.”

“Sure.”

“It’s a morale-killer.”

OR

My, Perry looks well-rested.

Looks Like November Rain

October 22, 2018 / / 0 Comments

“Don’t tell me. Soupy.”

No.

“Smersh.”

Also no.

“Derpy Hooves.”

Slash. His name is Slash.

“Well, you can’t blame me for blanking on him. He’s not wearing his hat.”

That’s true.

“I know who he is. He was in that reprobate heavy mental band with the little angry fellow. And he loves his hat. He’s, like, the male Holly Bowling.”

Also true.

“Has something gone awry? Because, uh, I could lend him mine. I know it’s not his style, but one of the things I learned on the ranch was A hat’s a hat. Unless it’s a yarmulke. No offense.”

None taken. The yarmulke should not be included in the category of [hat]. It doesn’t regulate the temperature of your skull, and doesn’t shield your eyes from man’s ancient enemy, the sun.

“My thoughts, exactly. But, uh, without the solar-based anger.”

Did you hang out with Slash? Is he cool?

“Well, uh, I don’t know if you know this, but the old ears aren’t what they used to be.”

No. Stop. I don’t believe you.

“I mean, it’s not Mickey-level. Just what you’d expect from 60 years of standing next to amplifiers.”

Sure.

“And, uh, Slash is a mumbler. I didn’t get a word of it. I think maybe he was telling me about a Dead show he saw when he was a kid. That’s what everyone else says to me when they me, anyway. But, yeah: nothing. Just a low murmuring.”

Gotcha.

“I could just bop over and pop it right on his head. Give him the ol’ bop-and-pop.”

Kind of you, Bobby, but I don’t think he needs your hat.

“Giving is my bliss.”

You’re the tits, man.

Wolf Sibs

October 21, 2018 / / 4 Comments

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Karate.”

I see that.

“I’m up to six invisible planks of wood.”

Wow.

“It’s all in the hips.”

Sure. Has Jay Lane always been that size?

“Oh, yeah. It’s, uh, hell feeding him.”

I’ll bet. You got yourself a lady Wolf Bro, huh?

“Yup, yup. She’s a hell of a bass player.”

Any idea what her name is?

“No. None whatsoever. But, you know, she’s easy to pick out of a crowd.”

Distinctive hair.

“Girl’s got curls.”

Tal Wilkenfeld.

“And, uh, Alaikum Salaam to you.”

No, that’s the young woman’s name.

“Good for her.”

Here Wolf

October 16, 2018 / / 4 Comments

Hey, Bobby. Happy birthday, buddy.

“Yeah, uh, thanks. The big seven-one.”

Is that big?

“For me. All of my best years have been when my age was a prime number.”

Okay. Your family do anything special for you?

“They called. I’m in Reno.”

Ew.

“Not a great town. It’s pretty much Vegas for dirtbags. And, you know: Vegas is Vegas for dirtbags.”

You excited about the Wolf Brothers tour?

“You betcha. Tons of fun. Although, uh, I didn’t know that Bob knew how to play stand-up bass.”

Bob?

“Dylan.”

Bobby, that’s not Bob Dylan.

“Well, then, he should stop screwing up the arrangements.”

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