This is the New Riders in 1970 at the Fillmore, and my favorite part of the shot is Garcia’s rickety wooden folding chair. You know Bill Graham charged him rent on it, too.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: jerry garcia (Page 53 of 139)
Hey, Garcia. Whatcha doing?
“Concentrating. Shh.”
How many strings on that thing?
“About a million.”
You use your feet, too, right?
“Pedal steel.”
…
Oh, now that name makes sense.
“Shush, dummy.”
Grateful Dead Fun Fact: sometimes during set break, Billy and Mickey would trade mustaches. The crowd never realized.
Context matters. Cigarette wedged under the strings on the headstock of a Strat: cool. Under banjo strings: not as much.
“Weir, Goddammit, you button that–”
“It’s hot!”
“–shirt up. I don’t care. This is not a bare-chested group, man.”
“Mick Jagger takes his shirt off.”
“And you’ll notice I’m not in a band with him. Cover yourself.”
“Aw.”
“Dude, I got a beach ball.”
“You do, man.”
“Yeah.”
“You should blow it up.”
“Okay.”
…
“Now what?”
“Huck it at Garcia.”
…
“Now what?”
Precarious Lee
Was in New Jersey;
He called for his hammer and rope.
He piled things up
And refilled his cup;
“This job could be done by a dope!”
You need a shirt and a beard.
“Ah, get fucked.”
Just sayin’.
How’d you know?
“HO HO HO! Merry Christmas, young man! And what would you like from Santa this year?”
“How are you with missing limbs, man?”
…
“Um. Not great?”
“Yeah, sure, figured.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, you know: I guess that kinda depends. You cool, man?”
“What?”
“Break out that reindeer dust, man.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I catch your game, man. Okay, okay.”
“Is there some sort of normal present I can bring you? Something a human boy would ask for?”
“Sure, sure, sure. I could always use a guitar, I guess.”
“I can do a guitar. I’ll have the elves knock one out.”
…
“Yeah, you know what? ‘Having the elves knock one out’ is not gonna work out for me, guitar-wise.”
“Kid, do you even believe in Santa Claus?”
“Well–not to be rude, man–but if you can’t bring me a finger, some stash, or an acceptably complicated guitar, then why should I believe in you?
…
“You’re a smart kid.”
“And, I got a kazoo. Good day.”
“Merry Christmas, kid.”
“Back at ya.”
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