Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: jerry garcia (page 3 of 127)

Olompali, My Lompali


“We couldn’t get the stage any closer to the fuel tank, if that’s what you’re gonna ask.”

It was. What’s the ladder for?



By God, That Band’s Got A Family!



Hey! Precarious!


Where were you?

“Tending bar.”

Forget about that. What the hell is this?

“It was a seating arrangement we experimented with briefly.”

How briefly?

“Just the first set. Turns out–”

Deadheads started leaping on the band?

“–Deadheads started…yeah, you got it. It was some real Jimmy ‘Superfly’ Snuka shit. Drummers thought it was funny, but not so much the rest of the guys.”


“Phil said that if we didn’t clear the area, he was playing the second set with butcher knives taped to his head.”

I can see that.

When The Boys Were Boys

There was a good two or three years in the beginning where Pig–God bless him–looked like a swamp monster.


Check out the JFK-cut on the square on the right. That’s a hairdo that’ll stand up to Communism.


Until rather recently, you were allowed to smoke around any machine, no matter how complicated and expensive and fragile.


Thick air, man.

I’d Like To Eyes Of The World A Coke


Precar–oh, you’re already here.

“It’s load-bearing.”

The Coke cup?



“We managed.”

Monitors look nice.

“Well, we considered the aesthetics.”


“And then we said, ‘Fuck it,’ and left ’em unpainted.”

Sure. You were joking about the Coke cup, right?

“Shit, no. You move that and we all die.”

Makes sense.

There’s No Frizz Like Show Frizz

If you just ask Bobby–

“Get stuffed, man.”

–he’ll help you with your hair.

“Beat it.”

You look like the dude from Coheed & Cambria.

“Oh, they’re great. I caught their show last week.”

Please stop using–


–the Time Sheath to check out bands from the future.

“You heard my answer, man.”

Have A Safe Trip



Were you trying to kill them?


The band.


I can’t even begin to count the safety violations in this picture.

“Ah, they’ll be fine. Big babies. I wrapped the cable around the mic stand.”

You honestly think that counts.

“I do.”

Is that plank of wood attached to anything?

“Attachment leads to suffering.”


I Said “No Pictures”

This is in Toronto, during the shit-dumb Festival Express that bankrupted a few hippies, enriched a few liquor store owners, and excreted a half-decent movie worth it if only for the scene of an unfathomably drunk-and-stoned Rick Danko, Marmaduke Dawson, Janis Joplin, and Garcia and Bobby wobbily circling through No More Cane on the Brazos. You’ve seen it, or you haven’t.

There. Now you have.

Anyway, this was 1970–long before the invention of security–and that doofus with the Nikon must have gotten up into Garcia’s face, unleashing the rarest Garcia of all: Scary Bear.

Legend has it that Garcia mauled and devoured the photog, but you can’t trust John Legend.

Mexican, Wood

You look healthy.

“Fuck off, man. I don’t need your nonsense today.”

What happened today?

“Ah, you know: usual bullshit. Plus, I killed Natalie Wood.”

I always suspected Billy.

“He’d be the obvious choice, yeah. But, no: I did it. It was an accident and all, but still.”

What happened?

“Well, me and Bobby and Chris–”

Robert Wagner and Christopher Walken.

“–had a real tense D&D game going below decks. And, man, she just wouldn’t quit with the yakking. Made me blow my initiative roll.”

What character were you playing?



“So we got annoyed and kinda maybe threw her overboard. As a joke.”

Not funny.

“It would have been had we been in a pool. Or maybe a smallish lake. But, you know: it was the middle of the night and she was shitfaced and we were ten miles offshore.”

Right. Like I said: not funny.

“Hindsight is 20/20.”

It is. You gonna be in any trouble?

“Nah. Hal Kant called a guy.”


“Sidney Korshak.”

You’re not gonna be in any trouble.

“Good to know important people.”

Not for Natalie.

You Be Me For A While, And I’ll Be You

Hey, Bobby. Nice potato salad.

“Thank you.”


Okay, Enthusiasts: Nerd Time! This is 5/25/72 from the Strand Lyceum in London, and they’re playing Good Lovin’. How do we know this? Because Garcia is not, contrary to your first instinct, hunched over his pedal steel guitar, but covering the organ for Pig while he sings. Go listen: there’s only one guitar for the first five minutes of the tune, and the guy playing the B3 doesn’t quite know what he’s doing.

We also know that Garcia played the piano on 9/20/70 at the Fillmore East for what would turn out to be the last performance of To Lay Me Down for three years:

So: was that it or did Garcia ever play keyboards onstage other than these two times?

Do Not Disturb

“You’re the weirdest Jehovah’s Witness who’s ever knocked, man.”


Sam Cutler looks like he should be on one of those cheap, weird BBC cop shows from the 70’s where the detective drove a Jensen-Healey and had an exceedingly British catch-phrase for when he caught the bad guy:”You’re well chuffed now, me lad,” or something like that.


I guarantee you that Phil pitched a fit upon being checked into this place.

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