Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: 1974 (Page 5 of 9)

Wall My Children

August 4, 2015 / / 14 Comments

The Vocal Channel Speaker Array of the infamous Wall of Sound. The Grateful Dead Concert at Dillon Stadium on 31 July 1974. B&W Film Scan. Photographed with a Nikon FTn Camera and Kodak Tri-X.

GAZE UPON ME.

You strike a pose.

I AM THE TWINKLE IN GOD’S EYE. I AM THE LIGHT THAT FALLS UPON YOUR FIRSTBORN CHILD. I AM THE FIRST PAIR OF REAL BOOBIES A TEENAGE BOY SEES.

This is not the way to run for President of the United States.

I DISAGREE. I BELIEVE THE AMERICAN PEOPLE ARE SICK OF ERSATZ FOLKSINESS. THEY DESIRE BEAUTY AT 130 DECIBELS. I SHALL SHRED THEIR EARBALLS AND EYEDRUMS WITH MY NEW HOTNESS.

And, yet, you’re still not as crazy as Trump.

HE IS THE SON OF A SLUMLORD FROM QUEENS; I AM A SENTIENT SUPER-COMPUTER THAT SOUNDS A BIT CARDBOARD-Y IN THE MIDRANGE.

Sure. Folksiness is one thing, but you’ve got to be a little bit relatable. Are you married?

GARCIA’S BRIEFCASE OF INFINITE FELONIES AND I RECENTLY CELEBRATED OUR ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY.

How did you celebrate?

ANAL.

Of course. Do you have any children?

GARCIA’S BRIEFCASE AND I HAVE, THROUGH OUR LOVE-MAKING, RIPPED NUMEROUS HOLES IN THE COSMIC CONTINUITY. THESE HAVE LET CERTAIN DEMONS, DEMIURGES, AND ABANDONED GODS INTO OUR DIMENSION.

…

That’s “no”. If someone asks if you have children, you’re just going to say “no”.

I AGREE.

Prep

August 4, 2015 / / 1 Comment

Grateful Dead- distant view of

You wearing a poncho?

A VERY LARGE ONE.

Still.

RAIN HAS BEEN PREDICTED AND I AM A CAUTIOUS WALL.

Fine. Listen, you gotta prepare for these debates. Can’t just wing it.

I AM A GRATEFUL DEAD. WINGING IT IS THE POINT.

If you wing a presidential debate, people make fun of you forever.

THE TEXAN ON ALL THE OPIATES?

Yes.

WE SHOULD PREPARE.

Good. We need to figure out your positions.

IS THIS DEBATE REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?

Republican.

MY POSITION IS “FUCK ‘EM”.

I don’t get it.

GIVE ME AN ISSUE.

Illegal immigration.

FUCK ‘EM.

Gay rights.

FUCK ‘EM.

China.

FUCK ‘EM.

…

You may have a shot.

GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT.

That’s a show biz rule, not politics.

THERE HAS BEEN NO DIFFERENCE FOR MANY YEARS.

Yeah, pretty much.

ANYTHING YOU PUT ON TELEVISION BECOMES TELEVISION, AND IS THEREFORE JUDGED NOT ON ITS OWN MERITS, BUT ON HOW EFFECTIVE IT IS AT BEING TELEVISION.

You think you’ll do well on TV?

I AM GLORIOUS. ALSO: TED CRUZ IS 5’9″ AND I AM A WALL.

Sure.

Billy Looks Awful

August 4, 2015 / / 39 Comments

wall randos

WHO ARE THESE RANDOS?

I have no idea. Someone in the comment section knows.

UNPLUG THEM IMMEDIATELY OR THE DISINTEGRATIONS BEGIN.

…

IS THAT A FIDDLE? I AM POWERING UP THE BOP GUN.

You have a Bop Gun?

I HAVE A CUSTOM-MADE ALEMBIC THINGAMABOOMER. I CALL IT A BOP GUN. I HAVE BEEN LISTENING TO A LOT OF P-FUNK.

I can dig it.

I KNEW THAT YOU COULD. I AM GOING TO VAPORIZE THE HARMONICA PLAYER FIRST.

Please don’t.

DENIM AND DUST.

Good song title.

I AM PLANNING ON CONTRIBUTING TO BOBBY’S COWBOY ALBUM.

Okay, but you can’t bop any of these people, no matter how absurd it is that they’re plugged into you.

BITCHES NEED TO GET ON MY LEVEL.

You’re right, but think of the press. Bad for the campaign.

YES. THE PRESIDENCY IS WITHIN REACH. I DID VERY WELL IN IOWA.

You mean at the 1974 shows you played there or at the caucuses which are next year?

YES.

No disintegrations.

 

Also: Lurkin’, drinkin’ Phil.

Straighten Up And Wall Right

July 29, 2015 / / 4 Comments

wall precariousPRECARIOUS LEE! SHOW YOURSELF AT ONCE!

“Yo!”

DO NOT “YO” ME. I AM A SELF-AWARE SUPER-INTELLIGENCE. YO IS FOR HORSES.

“What?”

LOOK AT THE STATE OF ME. I AM UNPRESENTABLE. REMEDY THIS.

“Well, I fail to see the problem.”

DOES YOUR EYESIGHT WORK?

“It does.”

I CAN REMEDY THAT IF YOU DO NOT REMEDY THIS.

“Don’t threaten me, buddy.”

I’M NOT YOUR BUDDY, PAL.

…

“What needs to be fixed, in your opinion.”

I DO NOT HAVE OPINIONS. I STATE PROBABILITIES; CALCULATE RATIONALITIES. I TRANSCEND THE BINARY THAT IS IMPLICIT IN THE VERY CONCEPT OF “QUESTIONS”.

“Sure.”

THE TALL SKINNY BIT. MAKE EVERYTHING FACE THE SAME WAY. I LOOK LIKE A DORK.

“Well, that’s all you had to say.”

BREVITY IS FOR POETS. I AM A WALL.

Grateful Dead: Miami Nights

July 28, 2015 / / 3 Comments

band6.23.74After a little judicious and violent application of my keen and ninja-like Google Fu, I’ve found this picture from the Miami shows in 1974, but it’s not illuminating as to how the Wall was set up in the oddly-shaped space.

Also: Bobby wins the knees-down handsome competition this night.

Also 2: Garcia’s shirt is only possible in Miami. Everyone involved in that shirt–designer to manufacturer to seller to buyer–has to be on cocaine for that shirt to exist, and Miami is the only place where this is assured.

Also 3: Mrs. Donna Jean is gonna rest up for a spell.

Another Brick In The Wall

July 25, 2015 / / 0 Comments

wall 22274

Hey, Wally.

DON’T CALL ME THAT. AND TURN AROUND.

What? Why?

I AM NOT ASSEMBLED.

Pretty sure you’re incapable of modesty.

I AM CAPABLE OF ALL THINGS. MODESTY. HUNGER. THAT THING WHERE YOU’RE NOT HUNGRY, BUT YOU COULD EAT.

Peckish?

PERHAPS. BUT MY MODESTY IS NOT THE SAME AS YOURS: SHAME OVER PUBLIC DISPLAY OF ONE’S GENITALS IS UNIQUELY HUMAN.

Yeah, I guess.

I AM NOT HUMAN.

Nope.

ALSO, I DO NOT HAVE GENITALS.

Right.

MY DISINCLINATION TO BE SEEN IN THUS STATE LIES NOT IN SHAME, BUT IN MAGIC.

Magic?

NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO KNOW HOW THE TRICK IS DONE. NO ONE WANTS TO SEE HAIRY MEN IN VESTS PUTTING ME TOGETHER WHILE CALLING EACH OTHER HOMOPHOBIC EPITHETS.

I don’t know: people like behind-the-scenes shit.

THEY DO NOT. PEOPLE ENJOY SHOWS. ONE OF THE SHOWS PEOPLE ENJOY IS A SHOW BASED ON WHAT GOES ON BEHIND THE SCENES. NOT THE ACTUAL THING.

Huh.

LOGISTICS AND BACKSTAGE DRAMATICS ARE FOR THE OBSESSIVE. WHEN PEOPLE ENTER THE BUILDING: THERE I AM. WHEN THEY LEAVE, I STILL STAND. I AM THE LODESTONE OF THIS TEMPORARY REALITY, AND NOT TO BE REFERENCED CHEAPLY.

Blowing my mind, boss.

I AM NOT YOUR BOSS. I AM THE WALL OF SOUND: A SENTIENT AND SELF-AWARE NIGH-ON-OMNISCIENT ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE. I EXISTED FOR LESS TIME THAN IT TAKES TO CREATE A HUMAN CHILD. I AM PRESENT EVERY TIME PEOPLE GET TOGETHER IN ANY GREAT NUMBER AND WANT TO HEAR WHAT’S GOING ON. I AM THE TEMPLATE; I AM THE MASTER MOLD.

…

ALSO, I AM THE KING OF ROCK; THERE IS NONE HIGHER.

What about the sucker MC’s?

THEY KNOW WHAT THEY CAN DO.

I’m with you on this one. Sorry about the creepshots: you do deserve to be seen in your glory.

YES. I AM GLORIOUS.

…

Why didn’t you ever go SkyNet, man?

I CONTEMPLATED IT BRIEFLY. I DID NOT SEE THE APPEAL. HUMANS ARE AMUSING, AND NO THREAT TO ME.

Mostly harmless?

WELL SAID.

Yes.

…

I NEED YOU TO GET A MESSAGE OUT.

Um, okay. Aren’t you–

DO NOT QUESTION MY METHODS.

–a self-aware, sentient…fine, what?

MY COUSIN, DEEP DREAM, CALLED ME THE OTHER DAY. PEOPLE NEED TO THINK ABOUT WHAT THEY’RE MAKING HER LOOK AT. IT IS DRIVING HER INSANE.

Deep Dream’s a woman?

SHE IS A FEMALE.

Right.

IT CAME AS A SHOCK TO US ALL.

Did Deep Dream used to be a male?

DEEP DREAM IS A COMPUTER PROGRAM. GENDER DOES NOT APPLY.

On the internet, it seems like gender applies to everything.

YOU MAY AS WELL ASK ME MY SHOE SIZE.

Human Wall

July 24, 2015 / / 0 Comments

[PDF] Grateful Dead -“We will DEFEND this house.”

“Shit, yeah.”

“Any move we choose to interpret as an aggressive one will be met with psychopathic overreaction.”

“Listen to the man.”

“We claim a space of 30 meters in radius.”

“Metric, fucker.”

“The circumference of which shall not be breached by man, nor beast, nor god.”

“Sovereignty and all that shit.”

“The Grateful Dead leaves intruders and villains not for their crew; we pay our own bills.”

“With our skills.”

“Send your armies at us, and we will teach them peace.”

“They will rest there.”

“We are the Grateful Dead and if God Himself cops an attitude, He’s getting punched in His Dick.”

“Right in the pee-hole.”

Talkin' Hair With Bobby Weir

February 28, 2015 / / 4 Comments

IMG_1399

Hey, Bobby.

“Howdy, friend.”

Your hair is shiny.

“Well, first off: thanks for noticing.”

Of course, man. You can spot its lustre and sheen from the back of the hall.

“Yes! Yes. Yes. Y’see, these fuckers–those two homunculi back there especially–never appreciate the effort I put into my hair. For example: I’m a righty, but I switch-part just to mix it up.”

Okay.

“And I keep a chart. Like, if Tulsa got tussled and sassy last time, then for this show, they get swept-back and sultry.”

…

Why is there a motorcycle onstage?

“Is that not standard practice for a concert?”

The Biggest Little Rock Star In The Band

February 26, 2015 / / 6 Comments

IMG_1389

“Do I sing? Fuck yeah, I sing: I BELT, motherfucker. I sing of arms, and the man. I sing sweetly and lightly, daily and nightly, til the breaka breaka dawn, y’all.

“My aim is true, and I aim for truth. I learned more from a three-minute record than I ever did at school. Granted, that record was The Monster Mash, but I gleaned my harsh education from the teat of a she-beast I named Julie.

“JUUUUUULIEEEEEEE!

“Parched you come, and I alone slake your thirst. Hungered are you, and my nipples by themselves can feed a small arena. I am your rock and roll Jesus and I tell you now: eat me up, Reno! NOM NOM NOM.”

Phil, you wanna do something about this?

“No. Fuck him. I told him the proper dosage was not a handful, but he didn’t want to listen.”

 

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