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

Tag: 1972 (Page 7 of 10)

Who We Missing?

band onstage 72 no phil bw

Reasons for Phil’s absence:

  • It was a Friday night show during Phil’s brief flirtation with orthodox Judaism.
  • It was a Tuesday night show during Phil’s long entanglement with orthodox alcoholism.
  • Takin’ a piss.
  • Ballin’ a fox.
  • Doin’ a line.
  • Saw a duck and ran terrified into the dressing room, slammed door, burrowed under couch, made keening noises.
  • Crowd surfing.
  • This was the only appointment he could get at the podiatrist for weeks. (Phil’s got corns.)
  • On line for the new iPhone.
  • At a playground slapping ugly children while telling them to “get used to it.”
  • Saw a carnival on the way to the gig.
  • Stepped in a normal-looking pile of leaves and a rope tightened around his leg and yanked him up to the ceiling.
  • In a crazy rich guy’s house, dressed as a kitty, and dangling from a rope as a living motivational poster.
  • Picking a fight with two Puerto Rican women in a Steak & Shake parking lot.
  • Galveston, Texas.
  • Charging (Light Brigade.)
  • Taking (Omaha Beach.)
  • Sieging (Stalingrad.)
  • Cross-dressing (Rocky Horror Picture Show screening in Petaluma.)
  •  Had Bobby draw him a map to the show and Phil is either in Narnia or East St. Louis, and either way he’s about to get stabbed.

Boxing Day

Besides Bird Song, the obvious hero of the new DaP 11 first set is Box of Rain, which might just be the best version they ever did of this easy-to-fuck-up favorite. Everyone’s mentioned the vocals–and they’re sweet and on key from everyone involved–but the secret hero of the song is Billy.

Listen again: it goes from Phil’s already quick count-off to the speed Billy wants, which is FAST as fuck–80’s tempos–and Phil can’t start crooning; all he can do is sing his beautiful melody and hang on.

1972 Blowing Up Inside My Mind

Dave’s Picks 11 came in via FedEx today. (FedEx is my nickname for the illegal torrent site I immorally steal people’s hard work off of) and it’s a peach of a slam dunk of a roller coaster ride of an incoherent cliché.

The production quality alone is so good that obvious truths reveal themselves: a Strat simply sounds different from a Gibson 335. The distinct, but complementary, timbres by themselves make up a huge part of the Dead’s sound, but–and this is only focussing on Garcia and Bobby’s interplay, mind you– the way Bobby stays out of Garcia’s way, staying to the slashing upper-register chords that he seemed to invent and perfect in the early 70’s, was the kind of stuff that Keith Richards and Mick Taylor only dreamed about.

To some, Bobby’s playing has always been as interesting as Garcia’s; to others, this is blasphemy, but this latest DaP lets you make up your own mind about things.

Far From The Madding Crowd

jerry 72 bickersham

If he stopped moving at a festival, this would happen. Every time.

“Tell us about politics, Jerry.”

“Hi, Jer!”

“Garcia, I have this screenplay that–”

“Man, I know you;re gonna think I;m crazy, but–”

And he just wants to go hide and get high but Garcia’s polite, you know? So he sits there with soggy balls listening to randos be his best friend at him.

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