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

Tag: jerry garcia (Page 118 of 139)

The Magnificent Seven #3

band keith donna scruffy

You want to look away, sure: of course you do.

You can’t: your eyes keep coming back, meeting his, falling in to the crevasses that the noticeably thick pancake refuses to pretty up.

You try to appreciate Mrs. Donna Jean’s gorgeous hair, or Bobby’s gleaming smile, or Mickey’s…you try to appreciate Mickey, but still you’re drawn, like the spider to the nerdy orphan from Queens, to that uncomprehending blind rage glare, the sheer belligerence that has led to the Bare-Necked Tie.

Phil was having an off-day in this picture.

 

The Magnificent Seven #2

deadbandbobbywhitepants

BOBBY, GUARD YOUR DICK! BILLY IS STARING AT IT WITH BLOODHUNGER!

Why would you leave yourself open like that…and his other hand’s full. He’s just waiting there like the Benelux nations in 1940. Pacifism is only a viable creed if the guy standing next to you isn’t Billy.

And Mrs. Donna Jean is simply adorbs and we are going to talk about what the hell the deal is with her and Keith soon, because this photo espacially illustrates a, shall we say, discrepancy.

 

 

Dead Wood

band acoustic

I’ll give Phil credit for another good  choice: none of that acoustic-electric bass Frankenstein’s monster crap for him. Those wooden compromises–their proportions all wrong to suit the aesthetics of the guitar and the mathematics of that low E string. They showed up on Unplugged and made this rather unmusical fwANG sound.

Bobby played an Ovation. If you’re familiar with guitars, and of a certain age, you’ll understand there’s a lot packed into those four words.

Movin' On Uptown

Today brings another installment of Shows Of The Cusp Of Being Something with this obscure gem from 1/31/78 at the Uptown Theater, where they never played a bad show, and again TotD brings you the Pros and Cons.

Pros The Drums>Black Peter>Truckin’ is Hall of Fame, no other way to put it. Also, the Drums is more rightly called Jam, because Garcia stays out there and makes boogeyman noises.

Then after the Truckin’ jam, Bobby tries to go back into Playin’, but no one is having none of that, thank you Mr. Man. Except, the rest of them haven’t made any decision beyond “let’s not do what Bobby wants” and five guys start playing nine different songs at once and it’s kind of like your racist grandpa: you’d be embarrassed if a normal person heard it, but to you: it’s endearing.

Cons Keith. Just: Keith. Plus, it’s a Betty Board, so he’s mixed up real high because that’s how Betty do. But, he’s just playing like the fourth-best piano player at your high school the whole show: COMP compcomp COMP comp.

>Darkness

The great apes are eligible to give consent, as are some forms of octopus, and when the octopus doesn’t give consent, you will be aware.

Were you reading Peter Singer again? That shit always leads you down weird pathways.

STATE-SPONSORED LATE-TERM ABORTIONS FOR ALL HUMAN/BEAST CHIMERAS CREATED IN STARK DEFIANCE OF GOD’S EXPLICIT WILL! I politically support that now!

Yeah, that sort of thing. Um, folks? Hi.

Just “folks”? What about the Halflings?  The brooding and tortured Dark Ones living in the West? Do you not welcome them? Man, Woman, and Beast joining together! Welcome us all, bigot. And, of course, welcome all the Blobby Things. You simply would not believe how many Blobby Things  a belief system based around interspecies sexuality accumulates!

This is an escalation of the normal routine. Are you feeling ill?

Not ill, but I am out of pudding.

This is a picture of Garcia taken by a young J.J. Abrams. I’ll try to deal with him.

jerry twinkle guitar

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