Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
LOOK AT PHIL’S TUSHEE!
Stop it.
LOOK!
Knock it off.
Fat Phil had a phat ass.
This is unpleasant.
Well, for all but five years out of life, Phil has been rail-skinny and had no butt whatsoever.
True, but still.
If Phil’s body were a set list, then you would write it “legs>back.”
Right.
No butt.
We all got it.
But here he’s got a Heineken heinie.
And bearded Mickey.
Bearded Mickey is terrifying. Scariest of all Mickey’s iterations.
True.
I can’t give you a show recommendation, per se: I haven’t listened to the whole show. New bunch of torrents came in, from ’79, and 5/5/79 from the Providence Baltimore Civic Center in Rhode Island Maryland has the best EVAR Sugaree.
It is declared; I have made my decision. Go listen to the Sugaree, and feel free to agree with me in the Comment Section.
Number four, the first one in the second row, that one makes me sad: Phil and Billy used to be friends, or at least buddies, or at least friendly enough to drunkenly paw at one another during photo shoots.
Plus, if you read the images as a story, then the story is about Mickey enjoying cocaine.
Couch Tour is off for the night as the trucks drive from Charlotte to Bonnaroo, which is a certain number of miles. (Halfway through that sentence, I realized that if you gave me a blank map, I could neither put a pin in Charlotte, nor whatever sun-baked field the Bombadil festival is held in.) An Enthusiast shouldn’t be without groovy tunes, though, so give 12/4/79 from the Uptown Theatre in Chicago a spin.
(I usually like to link to Relisten rather than the Archive just because the interface is incomparably better, but the Archive is the only place to hear the Dusborne Matrix. That’s the version I listened to recently; it is another stellar blend of a SBD and AUD from Mr. Dusborne, who is quickly gaining a Charlie Miller-like reputation for consistence and excellence in Fillmore South.)
First set’s good, but the second is monstrous and weird: a slowed-down China>Rider opener and a half-hour, mid-set Estimated>Franklin’s that turns into a Stayin’ Alive-quoting jam.
Or–and this is up to you–KISS’ Dynasty is a better record than it gets credit for.
What’s wrong with you?
I was giving the nice people options.
Options are equivalent. You offered people the choice between a steak and having a chain swing at them
I don’t get into people’s fetishes, man.
Have I told you I hate you?
Frequently, and with conviction.
Good.
There are always new mysteries, and there’s usually a tomorrow; no matter how well you know a man, he can still surprise you and make you glad for the shock.
That’s some good Dead belt-wearin’, Mickey.
This is from Brent’s first show, 4/22/79, at UC San Jose State. (Go Banana Slugs.) It was so nice of the other Grateful Deads to dress up for the occasion.
Assorted thoughts:
Fun fact: while this show was taking place, political prisoners all over the world were being tortured.
Dripping and slippery with early-tenure Brentitude, 12/5/79 from the Uptown Theater (pronounced “thee-AY-ter,” of course) in Chicago is little-known gem and should be your afternoon soundtrack. Highlights include a classic He’s Gone and a superb Black Peter featuring the ultra-rare Garcia Falsetto.
Not enough for you? Ingrate. Gift-horse-mouth-looker. I’ll sweeten the pot: the ultra-rare Garcia Falsetto is put into the service of the even ultra-rarer George Benson-style singing along with the solo.
Who takes care of you, Enthusiasts? Who’s your buddy? Yeah, it’s me. Okay, now take off your pants and don’t tell your parents.
So close to being not an asshole.
And yet, so far.
Yeah.
Here’s a lovely and ferocious soundtrack for your afternoon: 12/28/79 from the Oakland Auditorium. This was released as one of the Road Trips, but a new Charlie Miller version popped up on the boards and the Archive the other day; this is a hell of a show.
Second set is beyond good: it’s like suddenly gaining the ability to put your mouth on Emma Stone’s butt and a pretzel dog at the same time. (A pretzel dog is a hot dog in a bun made of pretzeled bread and it may or may not taste better than Emma Stone’s butt depending on how long it has been since said butt was laundered.)
Also, after hearing Phil play It’s All Over Now, Robert Oppenheimer started quoting the Bhagavad-Gita at people.
As usual with the nifty and the new, this brand-new and razor-sharp FOB AUD* of the last Dark Star that holds up on its own merits, rather than simply the occasion of its playing, comes from Mr. Completely, known around these parts as the Rose City’s protector, The Tree Octopus.
TotD is proud to announce that TTO has formed an alliance with several other costumed crime-fighters, several bored teens, and an alcoholic named Cap’n Fucktoy to form Portland’s own Justice League: the Champions of Cascadia!
There’s the Wook, whose powerful dabs render criminals sleepy, and whose discussions about the merits of titanium vs. quartz render everyone else sleepy. There’s the Social Justice Warrior, who really doesn’t exist, but several of the more assholish male members of the Champions swear they see her everywhere.
The Cyclist uses his powerful thighs to keep the streets safe. Also, The Cyclist gets to the scene of the crime first because he thinks that traffic lights and stop signs don’t apply to him.
Also, J’onn J’onzz the Martian Manhunter is in the group because he stayed at an AirBnB there a few years ago and just fell in love with the place.
…
You forgot to link to the show, you waterheaded ninny.
Such is life: 1/10/79 from Nassau Coliseum.
* Loyal Enthusiasts will know my feelings about AUD tapes; they have a high bar to hurdle for me to keep going past a song or two: this one does. It is clear and everyone is well-defined, except for Keith, but he was always kinda blurry in real life, so no worries.
“FOB” is an acronym used to describe the Taper’s Section: Full Of Boys.
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