Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: 1989 (Page 2 of 4)

Greatest Stories Never Told

February 7, 2017 / / 7 Comments

Good news in a morass of pitiful offerings, Enthusiasts: Cascadia’s champion, Mr. Completely, has once again graced us with a bracing blow of audio semi-fictionality. I cannot tell you what the best ever 1989 show was–4/2, 6/11, 14/3.14–but I can tell you what the best EVAR show was: this one.

These ones, more rightly, as Completely has created not one superb semi-fictional show, but two. (And they’re long fuckers, too.) Not “Best-Of” or whatever where the songs are jumbled and tossed without care, no: these two “shows” follow the rules of the Grateful Dead: alternating Garcia and Bobby tunes, little songs in the first set, weirdo bullshit in the second. If you didn’t know these shows didn’t actually happen, you might not realize it.

I won’t gush, but just tell you this: since Mr. Completely sent me the (almost) finished versions two weeks ago, I’ve listened to each show at least five times. It’s a home run mixed with a touchdown combined with a delicious corned beef sandwich while someone is touching your nipples in just the right way.

So: watch it on YouTube, or download either the FLAC, ALAC, or MP3 from the link, and then tell him how good it is in the Comment Section. Make sure you check out the detailed liner notes which, in keeping with Grateful Dead tradition, I was not asked to write. TotD gets a special thanks, but–in candor–my participation was mostly pestering him about including Foolish Heart.

Semper Reptilis

February 6, 2017 / / 1 Comment

Hey, Snake Tee-Shirt. Long time no see.

“How’sss it hanging?”

Can’t complain. You?

“Sssad.”

Aw, buddy. What’s the matter?

“Worried about the United Ssstatesss.”

We all are.

“I’m a patriot. You know I wasss in the Marine Corpsss.”

You don’t pronounce the S in that word, let alone pronounce it like that.

“You don’t ressspect veteransss.”

Yes, I do. And you are not a veteran.

“I ssserved my country, boy! Not like sssome pussssssiesss I could mention.”

You did not.

“I wasss at Khe Sssan.”

NO, YOU WERE NOT.

“Sssometimesss, I’m ssstill there. My buddiesss died in my handsss!”

You don’t have hands.

“Ssslevesss.”

You don’t even have sleeves. You were not a Marine.

“Thisss isss my rifle, thisss isss my gun.”

YOU DON’T HAVE HANDS.

“Audie Murphy didn’t have handsss. They let him be a Marine.”

First of all, he was in the Army. Second of all, he lost his hands in combat. He didn’t show up at the draft office and open the door with his foot. Third of all, you are a tee-shirt.

“You’re racissst.”

Can’t be racist against shirts. Shirt is not a race.

“I even remember the sssongsss we would sssing when we marched.”

You can’t march. You slither.

“I DON’T KNOW, BUT IT’S BEEN SSSAID–”

Stop this.

“MARIE ANTOINETTE GIVESSS REAL GOOD HEAD!”

I regret talking to you.

Push That Button The Time Traveler Said Not To

December 24, 2016 / / 6 Comments

Give it to me.

“Fuck off.”

Goddammit, Phil: gimme the phone.

“Fuck off. What phone? Fuck off.”

I can see it in the giant pocket of your comfy sweatpants.

“That’s not a phone.”

…

“Playing cards.”

No.

“I’m learning magic. Ned Lagin is coming back and we’re gonna do a Penn and Teller routine in between sets.”

None of that is true. Give me the phone.

“Fuck off. I need it.”

Dammit, all of you need to stop routing your WiFi through the Time Sheath.

“I have to be in touch with the restaurant.”

That’s 20 years away from this picture.

“I don’t exist in 1989. I exist within a picture taken of 1989.”

This all makes my head hurt.

“The busboys must be managed. Last time I left them alone, they tried to form a union. The time before that, they tried to form Voltron.”

That didn’t happen.

“Agitationists!”

Not a word.

“They should be happy for their employment. I house them. I feed them. I clothe them. What more do they want?”

Pay them?

“Never! That’s not how this works.”

How does it work?

“Busboys are social creatures; they follow a hierarchy. You engage the alpha in combat. You best him. Then, the whole pack belongs to you.”

I think you’re talking about otters.

“Busboys and river otters are closely related species. You can’t have my phone.”

APPLE WATCH NOISE

…

At least tell Bobby to take the Apple Watch off?

“No. Fuck off.”

A Lyric Opera

November 7, 2016 / / 7 Comments

Bobby is thought of as the Grateful Dead who forgot the words; he should more rightly be known as the Grateful Dead who also forgot the words. My contention is that Garcia pooched the lyrics just as much, if not more, as Bobby did. They played Truckin’ over 500 times, and I cannot believe that Bobby fumbled more than 200 of them, whereas Garcia sang Crazy Fingers right exactly once. Additionally, even if he got the words to Franklin’s right–and that is a big “if”–neither he nor anyone in the room could possibly predict what order the verses would be presented in that evening.

(In Garcia’s defense, it doesn’t much matter which order the verses of Franklin’s are sung in. You have to start with “Another time’s forgotten space,” but after that, it’s up for grabs. You can’t sing the lyrics of, say, Stagger Lee out of order because then the revenge would be taken before the inciting incident; that would violate narrative causality, so your brain won’t let you sing it that way.)

After a certain point, the usual vocal flubs fail to arouse the dedicated Enthusiast, and a more powerful source must be found: try 10/20/89 from The Spectrum in Philly, with a priceless performance from Garcia on Scarlet Begonias: he just gives up and starts mumbling “…the more it can take…” into his chest until it’s time for him to solo again. If you don’t have time for the whole show, then just watch the S>F, which–lyrical misadventures notwithstanding–is outstanding.

Make time for this one, though: good and gooey all the way from soup to nuts.

“Heeeey, man.”

Not you, Soup.

“Okay, man.”

Plus one of only two versions of California Earthquake, which is such a good song that the Dead couldn’t ruin it, even though they tried.

Missed Meeting

May 12, 2016 / / 11 Comments

This was, both sadly and unavoidably, the first year I’ve had to miss the Meet-Up At The Movies; a small comfort is that I’m driven bonkers by the behavior of my fellow Enthusiasts during the film and don’t enjoy the experience all that much. It is, as you are correctly guessing, not so much their actions (which are well within the bounds of decency and in-group norms for this type of screening) as my misanthropy combined with my insanely strict rules about movie theaters.

TotD’s Insanely Strict Rules For Movie Theaters:

  • Shut the fuck up.
  • In fact, don’t even move.

Almost all my other rules turn out to be guidelines under close scrutiny, but not those. And while a showing of 7/2/89 from Sullivan Stadium in Foxborough, MA, attended solely by Deadheads should be granted special dispensation from the standard silence, I can’t make my brain accept the exception, and I end up hating everyone around me halfway through the first set.

You are unwell.

Oh, hey. You’re in this computer, too?

…

Just continue.

Sure. Anyway, I mentioned that the show was available on YouTube, and said I was going to watch it, but–in a rare occurrence–the tenets of Without Research have bitten us all on the box-back nitties. What I thought, after briefly glimpsing the playlist but not clicking on anything, was the whole show turns out to be the just the first set, and not the pro-shot version, either. Voodoonola has cleaned it up, so it’s the best it’s going to look, but it is still the video version of an AUD.

(On the other hand, the first set opens with Playing and the second set closes with Dear Mr. Fantasy>Hey Jude, so the first set is objectively the superior set.)

The previous Meet-Ups have been mysteriously leaked for just long enough for everyone to download them, so if that happens here, I’ll let you know. Until then, this is good enough for you animals:

I’ll Be Friends With The Devil Before I’m Friends With Vimeo

April 6, 2016 / / 4 Comments

Everybody’s friend until you ask to borrow money, Mr. Completely, found this uptempo Friend of the Devil from the ’89 Sullivan Stadium show being released as this year’s Meet-Up at the Movies: Garcia is all smiley, and Bobby is wearing hot pants, and Phil is still working off the Heineken weight.

Also: he found it on Vimeo and fuck Vimeo; I put it on my YouTube channel, so it might get taken down any minute, but I’m not linking to Vimeo. My grandfather stormed the beach at Normandy so I wouldn’t have to deal with fucking Vimeo.

Exactly The Same Size As A Drive-In Movie, Oo-Wee

April 5, 2016 / / 5 Comments

[PDF] I built a drive-in theater

Boston-area Enthusiasts, you’re in for a treat: this year’s Meet-Up at the Movies (featuring the non-circulating 7/2/89 from Sullivan Stadium in Buffalo Foxborough) will be simulcast on the drive-in screen in Mendon, MA, plus if you want to get out of your car, there’s a beer garden and a Dead tribute band as an opening act.

This sounds like fun, and I hope some of you go, but if you don’t sneak in a couple extra Deadheads in the trunk, then I can’t talk to you anymore.

Ryan Adams’ Next Career Moves

September 21, 2015 / / 24 Comments
  • Track-by-track cover of Katy Perry’s last album, which Pitchfork gives a 9.3.
  • Note-for-note cover of Yummy Yummy Yummy by the 1910 Fruitgum Company Ohio Express, which merits five interviews in Grantland.
  • Copies out the April ’12 issue of Spin longhand; Spin reprints it in its entirety.
  • Finally gives in and covers Summer of ’69, but with an acoustic guitar!
  • He really makes the song his own!
  • And by “his own,” I mean it sounds like something Paul Westerberg left off one of his later solo albums.
  • Has his good buddy Ed Sheeran over to the house, breaks out the acoustic guitars, and goes utterly HOUSE on an ASAP Rocky track.
  • Nicki Minaj cover, but Ryan changes all the pronouns so now the song is about a guy who only blows cocaine dealers: Rolling Stone gives it 5 stars.
  • Shot-by-shot remake of the Bad Blood video, except Ryan Adams can’t get stars to do cameos, so he plays all the parts; Sasha Frere-Jones writes a ten-thousand word article about how everything he knew was wrong up until the moment he saw this video.
  • Cuts out the middle-man and just covers the last decade of McDonald’s jingles; the New York Times calls it “a masterpiece” and then denies ever employing Judith Miller.

Kicking And Screaming

July 14, 2015 / / 18 Comments

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I’m not getting home, am I?

“You are.”

How?

…

“Just stop fucking around, please. That Spam Jam fellow was right, and rather polite about it, but: you know. It’s getting on everyone’s nerves.”

Chicago?

“Please and thank you.”

I’m gonna make a cup of coffee.

“This late? Wow. You take it with milk and rebellion.”

I rule.

“Sure, champ.”

Are you still the Wook of Wisdom?

“No. Italics guy. I incepted the Wook.”

You can do that?

“For the exact same reason you can go back to 2015.”

Ironic.

“It is not ironic at all.”

Fungible.

“You don’t use words right and someone should cut off your fingers and replace them with snorkels.”

Ow.

“Yeah. Get hopping, froggy.”

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