You think Garcia took that flannel with him to the hospital and rehab? Did he see it as a partner in his year of rough health? Was there a anything save the cleansing power of a naked fire that could get the funk out of it?
For fuck’s sake, Phil.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: 1987 (Page 3 of 3)
This pass, too, will grant you access to the backstage area of a Grateful Dead concert. Many wonderful things might happen. Something else might happen that’s not that wonderful, but it entirely expected.
What the hell is it with these people and headbands?
Most people would see Gnarls Oohlala over there and say, “Game over, man. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
But the Enthusiast’s gaze lingers, drifts. It catches the shorts, of course, but to pair them with the yoga-neck T-shirt is bold; to rock the rolled, aerobics-class headband is brave.
I’m working on something about the Dylan and the Dead tour, but here’s the show that started me down this dark and out-of-tune path: 7/10/87 at JFK in Philadelphia.
TotD is in favor of the show; Psychic Bodyguard and enjoyer of drizzle and Volvos Mr. Completely has reasonably disagreed.
My arguments include, but are not limited to, the following:
- A nifty truncated show–a highlights version that manages, because it’s the Dead, to be longer than the actual thing–with a great “first set” full of little-played 80’s faves: Iko, Brother Esau, and When Push Comes to Shove: all played snappily and with the crisp energy that permeates this entire show.
- A short-but-sweet Drums (with copious Beam-banging by Mickey) is topped by a retro Garcia-solo Space, ’78-style.
- The Dylan set is just that: a Dylan set, just with a slightly-less deferential backing band than he’d ever worked with before (except The Band, of course.) Dylan had a lot in common with the Dead (for example, they both played a lot of Dylan tunes) but one massive discrepancy was the intent: while Dylan and, say, Phil were both capable of playing a song in a new key he’d just invented, Dylan was doing it on purpose to bother people.
- And there’s some great shit in the Dylan set! It roars out of the gate with a zippy Tangled Up in Blue and steams through Stuck Inside of Mobile>Chimes of Freedom, into an aborted stab at Queen Jane, then on to a truly killer Gotta Serve Somebody.
- Admittedly, Joey is longer than the actual gang war that inspired the song.
- Watchtower: all killer, no filler. MY POINT RHYMES.
His arguments include, and are limited to, the following:
- It sucks.
One might say we’re both right…from a certain point of view.
Oh my god, you’re the worst.
The giant deconstructed blazer, the headband, the Takamine: Dylan could not have been more 80’s had he arrived to the gig in a DeLorean.
Check out Masterpiece from MSG, 9/18/87. Not Bobby killing it, which he always did on the Dylan tune. (Not so much in the blues number. Bobby’s blues number didn’t give you the blues, it made you genuinely sad.) Not even Phil winding and wending his way through the tale of a Grand Snarl through the Old Country.
No, check out Garcia on the backup vocals. He’s yelpin’ and-a hollerin’, only to shut right up ‘n play this here GI-tar and play it right, boy. Garcia’s singing the high harmony line, almost up where Brent normally is. It’s just at the top of his range: notes you have to make an effort for, and he does, verse after verse. He’s in time with Bobby (kind of) and he’s in tune with Bobby (for a vast majority of the song) and it’s not just exactly perfect, because it’s better than perfect…
It’s human.
P.S. Here’s my favorite thing about When I Paint My Masterpiece: Dylan gave it away. Other writers have made their reputations–their careers!–on far less, and he gave it to Robbie fucking Robertson. Robbie Robertson’s such a prick that three of his former band members preferred to die rather than spend anymore time on the same planet as him. Only Garth Hudson remains, and he is clearly some sort of immortal wood elemental.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjYCu0MGgoQ&w=420&h=315]
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