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

Tag: 1968 (Page 2 of 3)

לֹא תַקִּפוּ פְּאַת רֹאשְׁכֶם וְלֹא תַשְׁחִית אֵת פְּאַת זְקָנֶךָ

mickey mustache twirl 68

Hey, Snidely. Whatcha doing?

“Tying women to things.”

Railroad tracks.

“No. Other things.”

Whatever. Question.

“Shoot.”

What’s it like being the only Jew in the Grateful Dead?

“Simcha Torah is very lonely.”

Sure.

“I’m the only one who eats the hamentashen, so I get fat every year.”

Okay.

“Sometimes when Billy’s drinking, he’ll point out ovens to me.”

That’s crossing a line.

“Probably, yeah. Ya gotta remember: I’m not the Jewiest Jew that ever Jewed. I like the outdoors and blowing shit up and getting in fights: I’m more like an Israeli than a Jew.”

Non-Jews will not see the distinction.

“Fuck ’em. Although I did teach Phil about Kabbalah.”

What do you know about Kabbalah?

“Nothing. But Phil knows less. I tied some yarn around his wrist, slapped some bacon out of his hand, and charged him a grand.”

Nicely done.

“Oh, I also did a klezmer album, Keepin’ it Kosher with Mickey?”

How did it do?

“The album was never released.”

The people need to hear it.

“They probably don’t.”

No.

The Man Who Isn’t There

jerry soft focus carousel 68

During ’68, Garcia would slip into soft focus on occasion. People would rub their eyes, and wipe their glasses on their shirts; it wasn’t them. It was him. He would not explain where, or from whom, he had learned this trick, and it scared the shit out of Bobby.

By the Fillmore West shows in late February of ’69, he had stopped doing it altogether, and everyone sort of forgot about it. The memory was fuzzy.

Dancing In The Streets

img_3304There is a convention for intellectuals and big-brains of all sorts in Albuquerque this week regarding the Dead. I was neither invited not notified, but I do have a good question for one of them researcher types to figure out: when was Phil allowed out from behind the drums? He was still hiding back there in some of the shots from Europe in ’72. By the Wall, it was physically impossible to stand back there anymore, and that continued with the more-traditional band setup that followed the de-hiatusing.

That’s what the Dead did in ’76: de-hiatused. Like you deplane.

God Bless You, Happy Leavell, Wherever You Are

If the Dead had broken up February 15th, 1968, then they still would have played this still-astonishing chunk of music the night before, and therefore been in contention for the Best EVAR awards.

I have linked to it before, and it’s been officially released, and you’ve memorized every note: no matter; it still shines and rumbles like a chromed-out fuckdozer. Let this music make rough love to your ears, and face. They are out of tune, but so are you and no one calls you on it: Pig and Garcia and the ones they left behind to wander around.

 

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