Hey, Keith. Looking good.
“Harf.”
Sleepy?
“Shlaaaaaaagh.”
You’re gonna set the couch on fire.
“I’ll shit on your neck, muchacho.”
Chillax, Keith.
KEYBOARDIST GENTLY PISSING HIMSELF NOISE
“Harf.”
Oy.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: keith godchaux (Page 1 of 17)
Hey, Keith. Whatcha doing?
“Hurmphle drup. Blaaaaah. Glunth.”
Uh-huh. You all right, pal?
PIANO PLAYER SLUMPING GRACELESSLY TO THE FLOOR NOISE
Okay, then.
…
Precarious?
“Yo.”
Keith collapsed.
“Yeah, he does that.”
Why was he set up out front, anyway?
“Makes it easier to get to him when he collapses.”
Logic.
Hey, Keith. Happy birthday, buddy.
…
…
…
“Wha?”
Happy birthday. It’s your birthday today.
“Who?”
You! It’s your birthday.
…
…
…
“Are we at Live Aid?”
See, this is why you’re not a recurring character.
“Guys? Hey, guys? Why is my piano set up so my back is to the crowd? Is it cuz I’m ugly?”
…
…
…
“Uh, no. No, definitely not. Nuh-uh.”
“Nah, man.”
“The ol’ Pig don’t think you’re ugly, KG! It’s just that your looks is an acquired taste!”
“Yeah.”
“You’re scaring off the skank, Sloth! Hide your face!”
Bobby spent the entirety of the Europe ’72 tour looking like he was gonna ask you to help him put a couch in his van.
OR
In 1972, European buildings were either 1,000 years old, or 25 years old. Nothing in between.
OR
Sam Cutler and Don Quixote have the same shape skulls.
Here. I found this for you because I love you. You’ve seen the picture of Warren with Phil in the background, but you haven’t seen this one. Y’know how I know? Because before five minutes ago, I hadn’t seen it. And, Enthusiasts, you know how good I am at Dead-picture-seein’. If Dead-picture-seein’ were an Olympic sport, then people would say, “Why is that in the Olympics? It’s not only not a sport, it’s not a thing.” Regardless, I’m spectacular at it. Existing in a society, maintaining relationships, earning money: not great. Knowing whether or not I’ve viewed a particular photo of a semi-defunct choogly-type band? World-class.
The shot is from the energetic-to-the-point-of-being-overheated 6/4/78 at Campus Stadium at UC Santa Barbara (Go Banana Slugs!). Warren was one of three opening acts; the other two–Wa-Koo and Elvin Bishop–went over well, according to contemporaneous reports, but Warren was more vodka than man in 1978, and so he mocked the crowd for being hippies and got booed. (Corry and his esteemed Commentators over at Lost Live Dead shed some more light on the day.)
Warren would make amends with the band, opening up for them again in ’80, ’83, and ’84, but on this hot day in California, he pooched it so hard that even fucking Keith was laughing at him.
Precarious?
“Yo.”
Explain.
“You ever play Jenga?”
Not twelve-feet high and within crushing distance of a slow-reflexed keyboardist.
“Keith would not have gotten out of the way, no.”
Going generally counter-clockwise, but retaining the option to call an audible and double-back or skip around:
- Is Keith staring Death in the eyes?
- That’s the only explanation for that expression.
- And he is about to spill his Fanta.
- Keith Godchaux loved Fanta.
- Mrs. Donna Jean, as always, has the best hair; if she were a collie, you would think her owner had been mixing raw eggs in with her kibble.
- I bet Mrs. Donna Jean had all sorts of rules and schedules and protocols regarding her hair and its upkeep.
- Shampoo once every this many days, and condition once every that many, and various calibers of comb and brush.
- Plus assorted scarfs and babushkas for bad hair days.
- Deadheads over the years have spread vile rumors about Mrs. Donna Jean regarding supposed assignations that were extramarital but intrabandial, and I find this low gossip intolerable and cruel.
- But she definitely wasn’t banging Phil.
- That is some rough body language there.
- The longer you look, the more they hate each other.
- The hips are the giveaway, but Mrs. Donna Jean’s lean–as if she’s italicizing herself–is the clincher; one will also note Phil’s posture, which can be described only as “surly.”
- Everyone in the top row is happy not to be in the bottom row, because the bottom row is weird and unfun and Keith might have just pooped himself.
- OF IMPORTANCE: Each of the non-Billy men in the top row has taken caution in re: getting their dicks punched, and punched hard.
- Bobby’s elected to go all-in with the knee, while Mickey and Garcia have not only positioned their shoulders in front of Billy’s, relieving him of any leverage, but also have their free hands in dick-adjacent readiness.
- The non-Billy men have done this unconsciously, by sheer muscle memory, as they have been in a band with Billy for 12 years now.
- You live, you learn.
- Speaking of Billy, this–long hair and mustache–was his best look.
- Coming back from the Hiatus to ’77, I think.
- He looked like a dog-track habitue.
- Owned a dozen laundromats on the black side of town, racist as fuck, good tipper, got divorced more than he got married.
- Had an Airedale terrier named Chico.
- And finally: Being a Rock Star is a hoot most of the time, but you’re still gonna spend a lot of afternoons in rooms with folding chairs and bare lightbulbs.
Precarious?
“Yo.”
Is that Cipollina?
“Yup.”
Why is Keith in the middle?
“Pizzazz.”
Seriously.
“One of the casters locked up while we were moving the piano. Just left it where it was.”
But Keith should not be in the middle. Especially not in 1978.
“We had to wheel him to the stage, too.”
I’m not shocked. Is that a skull?
“Where?”
Under the Perlstein.
“I think so.”
Why is it there?
“Sounds like a Mickey thing.”
Yeah.
Hey, Keith. Whatcha doing?
“I like turtles.”
Okay, buddy.
“I need to sit down.”
You are sitting down.
“I need to lay down.”
You all right?
“Turtles.”
Joining the Grateful Dead was just the worst possible career choice for you, wasn’t it?
“ZZZZZZ.”
And you’ve fallen asleep. Always contributing to the discussion, Keith.
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