Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: precarious lee (page 1 of 10)

Now Take Another Step Back

Precarious?

“Yo.”

Was there any attempt to wrangle the fans into pens, thereby ameliorating the chances of a crush, or was no attention whatsoever paid to safety?

“Second thing.”

Okay.

Deform Follows Dysfunction

Precarious?

“Yo.”

Can I ask you a question regarding cable management?

“I have no idea what that is.”

Well, you answered my question.

“All right.”

What’s with Phil’s bell-bottoms?

“Got a sixer in each flare.”

Smart.

“Yeah, well, he was the only one of us who went to college.”

True.

No Human Being Would Stack Books Like This

Precarious?

“Still here.”

Did it have to look so janky?

“Didn’t have to, nah. But it was easiest.”

The lights look like they have a disease.

“There was a bug going around that tour.”

What’s with the misfit monitor?

“The wood one pointed at Keith?”

Yeah.

“Well, we switched out the homemade monitors for a professional system in ’77, I think. But Keith was attached to Monty.”

Monty?

“He named the monitor Monty.”

Did he talk to it.

“He did a lot of things to it. Him and Monty were close, let’s leave it at that.”

Jesus, you people were running a loose organization.

“Nothing organized about it, chief.”

The Ol’ Infield Shift

Precarious?

“Yo.”

How is this even possible?

“Anything’s possible if you don’t give a shit hard enough.”

It’s astonishing.

“We got used to it.”

Evidently. Are the lights in the wrong place?

“Nah, they love it there.”

What’s Mrs. Donna Jean doing?

“Wandering about in an angry stupor.”

1978.

“Yup.”

Someday, Your Name Is Gonna Be In (Bush League) Lights

Precarious?

“Yo.”

You know what I’m gonna ask, right?

“They’re Christmas lights.”

Thought so. Jesus, that looks terrible.

“You should’ve seen the first version.”

Was it spelled wrong?

“Yup.”

Hell of an organization you guys had.

“Yup.”

Sticker, Mydland Falls

Brent’s Stickers: An Explainer

War Chicken reading “Rottweil” #1 Brent, as you may know, was born in Germany; his father was a pretzel and his mother was a set of rules. The badge represents the specific German state, or DeutschePlatzenMamaLookaBoobooDay, where he spent his youth.

War Chicken reading “Rottweil” #2 Stickers fall off, man. Gotta back your shit up.

Jacksonville Jaguar mascot A combination of Time Sheath access, a lack of football knowledge, and a predilection for America’s shittiest cities led Brent to become a diehard fan of the Jacksonville Jaguars. Brent had Bortlesmania.

Jesus, it’s another Rottweiler Brent, buddy? Can we chat? Great. Yeah, I’ve seen your Rolex. Nice. Anyway, pal: maybe you should dial back the German pride. Are you aware of the demographics of the Dead’s audience? It’s like a Boca Raton of the mind out there.

Stealie #1 (little, bottom) It’s the Dead, man. Gotta slap some Stealies on shit.

Stealie #2 (little, top left) Brent wanted people to know for sure that he wasn’t Rick Wakeman. No pussyfooting with Brent (except when he stuck his foot in women’s pussies).

Stealie #3 (big, top right) We get it, Brent. Even Mickey thinks this is too many Stealies.

Flying Eyeball Thingamabob I don’t know; who gives a shit; don’t we have anything–literally anything–better to be doing?

OR

Precarious?

“Yo.”

What’s with the tape?

“Surgical.”

So?

“It’s sterile.”

Again: so?

“Just pointing it out.”

Seriously, man: tape? Was this the best way to attach the synthesizer to the organ?

“Best? No. Easiest.”

Sure.

Hangin’ Over My Head

Precarious.

“Yo.”

I’m speechless.

“Here’s what you gotta understand about that strap: that’s professional-grade canvas.”

Which means what?

“Everything.”

Sure. Did the giant speaker need to be placed directly above Garcia?

“I would argue your adverb. That speaker is mostly above Garcia. It would clip him, at best.”

Still bad.

“The man’s got quicker reflexes than you’d think.”

It’s like the Sword of Damocles.

“Nah. It’s fine.”

What if there’s wind?

“There shouldn’t be any wind.”

That statement could be taken two ways.

“Choose one. Free country, man.”

Lil Snoozy Vertical

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.”

Skull And Closes

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.

This Looks Like A Job For…

Precarious?

“Yo.”

Explain.

“It’s the past, so we weren’t pussies or spazzes.”

I can’t have this argument with you again: adhering to modern safety protocols do not make you a pussy or a spaz. And you know we’re not saying “pussy” any more.

“I’m in 1978. We’re still saying pussy. Hell, we’re still saying fa–”

Just stop there. I cannot stress enough how ‘carnival in the mall parking lot’ this all looks.

“We weren’t going for aesthetics.”

You succeeded. What would happen if someone fell off?

“They’d die.”

What if the Deadheads took the structure?

“Lots of fuckers’d die.”

Uh-huh. What’s the rope assemblage for?

“Well, there’s another cluster stand on the other side of the field, so–”

Please don’t say zip-line.

“–we rigged up a zip-line. But, you know, the rope forms a parabola.”

You get stuck in the middle.

“Parish did. Fell on a couple fans. He’s okay.”

And the fans?

“No idea.”

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