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

Tag: dead (Page 4 of 19)

Ebony And Ivory

The Dead had so many options after Brent’s all-bullshit-aside tragic death and they went with the worst. They apparently had this weird did-you-call-me/should-we-call thing with Merl that is far too Mean Girls to relate in good conscience and more’s the pity because maybe Merl would’ve kicked Garcia’s ass just a little, being a straight-laced man and proud deacon of the Mt. Holy Oak of Zion First Macadamia Church of the Redeemer in Christ. Plus, the Dead would have had a black guy in it. And as commercials have taught us, people hang out exclusively in carefully diverse groups.

There were others they could have at least auditioned. Elton John was hitting a rough patch at the time, perhaps he could have helped out. Something tells me Bobby would love to play Crocodile Rock. The flaw in the plan is that the first time Sir Elton threw one of his legendary tantrums, Billy would punch him in the dick, because this time I’ve gotta stand up for Billy: grown men throwing tantrums deserve a thorough dickpunching.

Rick Wakeman was also in a bit of a fallow period since wasting all of the money in Britain on an ice show to play arpeggios to. I have a feeling that the first time Rick opened his spangly cape to play two of his army of keyboards at the same time, Garcia would freak out and think he was a dragon and set him on fire. So, that’s a no for Rick Wakeman.

Stevie Wonder wouldn’t have worked because Phil still owes him $60 from a poker game and is ducking him.

Thoughts On The Bobby

When it comes to the Dead, all opinions and obsessions are acceptable except for the ones that are wrong and weird. Wanna love Brent over Keith? Fine, zay gezunt, but if you have a full-back portrait of Vince, we’re not going to be wiling away the afternoon hours scoping out the fly betties at the Food Court. Your judgement is not to be trusted. AUD guys, spinners, that sort of thing.

Also, when it comes to Bobby, all opinions and obsessions are acceptable, except for one opinion: that Bobby wasn’t a truly deep musician and absolute master of his musical surroundings.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CMgXExAVsQ&w=420&h=315]

Listen to Bobby during Dark Star. He is doing some outlandish, upper-level musician shit. Bobby is a motherfucker, plain and simple, although his contribution to the Dead is often, ahem, overshadowed by certain other things.

The Pyramidial Tracts

Egypt was a problem, a disaster, a lovely vacation, an apparently epic party, the setting for about a hundred pages of Kesey’s late-period hairy-chestedness.  The third show was decent; the tapes are readily available. There are even videos:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFYIsvcspmQ&w=420&h=315]

Now, understand that this is not a fan video or something shot on an iPhone, mostly because it was ’78, but also because this is the official film. The best they could do.

So, no triple-album with limited theatrical release film attached, no recouping $650,000. Bupkiss. On the other hand, the Grateful Dead played in front of the Pyramids under a total eclipse.

So, God bless America, huh?

River Deep, Mountain Girl

I would be physically unable to call another human being “Mountain Girl” without making a hash of the thing and being thrown out of the room for harshing everyone’s groovy groove. Nor would I be able to substitute MG, knowing as I do what it stands for.

“Mountain Girl, would you pass the salt, please?”

No. I could not do that.

 

Mountain Girl had Kesey’s baby, then Garcia’s kid. She wins being a Hippie Chick.

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