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

Tag: bruce hornsby (Page 6 of 7)

The Real Way It Is

Recently, esteemed Enthusiast, published author, and 32nd degree Freemason David Gans sat down with Bruce Hornsby for a long discussion that ranged (get it?) from Bruce’s solo career to his time with the Dead to the upcoming Farewell Shows. You can read the highlights or listen to the whole thing here.

Well, you can’t listen to the whole thing there. There is an 18-minute gap in the tapes, no doubt at the behest of Big Dead. Luckily, TotD has managed to recreate the missing minutes through a newly invented forensic audio technique called “making things up.”

TotD now presents Missing Bruce Hornsby Revelations:

  • “Bruce Hornsby” is actually a Soviet sleeper agent named Anatoly Volkoff. When the USSR collapsed, Anatoly got forgotten and left to tour the country, gathering information and playing piano at white people. Do not say the phrase “Remove the vultures from your ass, Sheila,” because that will trigger his hypnotic suggestion and he will attempt to kill President Ford.
  • Has become quite an entrepreneur, selling various health-related items at his shows and online. The most popular is Bruce Juice, which, according to the FDA, is not intended to do anything.
  • Gets boners when he hula-hoops.
  • While Bruce was always an avid basketball player, age has now reduced his game to a combination of hook shots, fade-away jumpers, and what Bruce refers to as “elbows, knees, and nut-shots.”
  • Been married for forever, and still watches his wife get undressed, which is kind of sweet.
  • Does it with secret cameras he has installed all over their bedroom, which is kind of scary.
  • Once drunkenly traded hands with Billy; it wasn’t gay because Billy didn’t have a mustache at the time.
  • Has already started teasing Dark Star.
  • Bought a plane ticket, snoozed on the flight, rented a car, drove to Jeff Chimenti’s house, walked to the door, rang the bell, punched Jeff Chimenti in the dick. Got back in the car, got back on the plane, got back to his house, masturbated to his own power.
  • Speaking of masturbation: Bruce was the last remaining subscriber to both Oui and Swank. His collections have been bound professionally.
  • Calls playing the accordion while getting a beejer a “squeeze job.”
  • Has mooned three members of the Kennedy family.
  • Did not know that babies and pee-pee came out of different lady-holes until rather recently.
  • Goes to Civil War reenactments and cosplays as a Conscientious Observer; hates himself for it.
  • Doesn’t know what the middle foot pedal on a piano is for.
  • Already had a long talk with Trey about his little elf stomp dance and how it would almost certainly bring a piano bench winging towards his head in front of 60,000 people.

Because You're Worth It

Since the announcement of the Farewell Shows at Soldier Field this July, TotD has been the first to bring you all the news that Big Dead doesn’t want you to hear, such as Phil’s assorted letters to his new bandmates, the seating arrangements, and the band’s rider for the shows. (Billy wants a case of Michelob; Phil wants a freshly harvested liver with no strings attached.)

The public list of VIP packages has been released, but as we all know that flashing your stash can get you pretty far into the Dead’s backstage, and there will be number of high-class, super-quality, ultra-exclusive packages available to only the most discerning Enthusiast.

The Deal Experience In addition to the standard backstage passes, great seats, and meet-and-greet, our VIPs will get to play a game of strip poker with the Core Four, and Mickey will show dong. (Mickey is contractually required to show dong. You might see Billy’s regardless, but you can only bank on Mickey’s.)

The St. Stephen Experience No one knows how she did it, but Jill pulled some strings and you can get canonized. Straight-up made into a Catholic Saint. Also, autographed posters.

The Comment Board Experience Our Comment Boarders will get a lunch with Jeff Chimenti, then get a three-minute Skype session with Bobby and Phil to tell them how they’re doing everything wrong. (Lunch with Jeff Chimenti is mandatory if you want the Skype call.)

The Ride Bruce Hornsby Like A Horse Experience You get to ride Bruce Hornsby like a horse.

The Lenny Hart Experience Our VIP Lenny Harts will have the chance to use familial trust and financial naiveté to their advantage and steal up to all of the revenues from the night’s concert, then flee to Mexico (first-class.)

The Antelope Greg Experience Any VIP participating in the Antelope Greg Experience will be kicked in the neck by otherwise placid Enthusiasts if he pulls any of his usual shenanigans.

They're Not Booing…

Having previously brought you Phil’s letter to Trey, TotD has also acquired the personal and private letter Phil wrote to Bruce Hornsby entreating him to join the Dead this summer.

FROM THE DESK OF PHILBERT J. LESH

My Friend Bruce,

Hi, Bruce. It’s Phil. Phil Lesh. Of the Grateful Dead. How are you? I am fine.

Are you dead? You played keyboards for us. Statistically, you are deceased. If you are dead, let me ask you two things: totally dead? Because we did an entire European tour with Pig when he was mostly dead: we can work with mostly dead. If you are 100% dead, though: tell Garcia I need my lawnmower back; he’ll know how to get it to me.

Continuing under the assumption that you are still alive, I come to my point. The Grateful Dead will be reuniting for three shows this summer at Soldier Field; we’d like you to be there with us.

We had such good times during the too-brief period when you were with us, Bruce. Musically and socially: do you remember the time Mickey dosed you and Bill Walton, dressed you in Godzilla costumes, and pointed you at those Japanese tourists? I’m sure they remember it! (Bill Walton remembers it: he shredded his Achilles tendon tackling that tiny little Hello Kitty of a woman and missed the playoffs.)

Let’s have those good times again; look how little has changed: Trey Anastasio is playing guitar, so there will be a bearded reformed(?) junkie smiling at you; Jeff Chimenti will be stuck behind you playing a little dinky Casio, so you’ll have your contractually obligated “piano bitch;” and Bobby still thinks your name is Brian.

There is, of course, the small detail of the money, but I think we should–as Billy always says–“let the Jews take care of it.” (I’m not saying I agree with the sentiment: it’s a terrible thing to say. I’m just saying Billy says it all the time.)

In a financial nutshell: you won’t be getting the least amount of money, nor will you be getting the most. (Funny story: Bill Graham will be making the most money out of all of us. He inserted an iron-clad first-refusal for the 50th in some contract for a 1985 show at the Greek. Wily bastard, Uncle Bill.)

I have only three small things to ask of you:

One: If you see Mrs. Donna Jean, don’t say anything. Long story. Just dummy up.

Two: If you don’t have room in your suitcase for your accordion, that’s okay.

Three: Don’t hit Chimenti above the neck. May God help us all, he’s the closest thing we have to handsome nowadays. Shoulders down: that’s up to you.

We all hope to see you in Chicago and make some more music together.

Sincerely,

Phil

p.s. Bobby wants me to say “Hi, Brian.”

The Grateful Dead 50th Anniversary Shows FAQ

What’s this I hear about the Dead’s 50th anniversary?

The Grateful Dead’s first gigs were in the spring of 1965, making this year their gold anniversary. The surviving members of the group who have penises and are not TC will be marking the occasion with three concerts over Fourth of July weekend.

Just three shows?

The Dead thought it would be more special to limit the number of appearances. Also, any sort of extended tour would most likely kill one or all of them. But: mostly the thing about making it special.

Didn’t the main guy die years ago? Hairy Mendoza?

Close enough, and: yeah. He died in 1995 and since then, the Dead have reassembled in various forms under different names and with any number of guitarists.

Fake Jerries, yeah.

Dude, you can’t call him Hairy Mendoza and then know the term “fake Jerry.”

Sorry, sorry.

The bit is Frequently Asked Questions. Just be the guy asking questions frequently.

Okay, so, who’ll be playing guitar and singing with the Dead at these shows? 

That’s actually (one of) the exciting part(s): Trey Anastasio from Phish will be playing lead guitar and singing a whole bunch of Garcia’s songs.

And that’s exciting because?

Well, first off: Trey’s got a hell of a lot more star power than any of the other dudes up for the gig. Did you know that there is a man named John Kadlecki and he’s a damn fine guitar player?

I do now, I suppose.

And does that fact make you want to book plane tickets and a hotel room?

In no way, shape, or form.

Right. So: Trey. Also, while Phish is clearly the “heir” (whatever that means) to the Dead’s legacy, they’ve always tried to maintain a separation from the Dead in musical styles, lyrical content, attitude towards improvisation, aesthetic presentation.

Would a normal person be able to tell the two bands apart?

Oh, fuck, no. Guitar solos for white kids to take drugs to. Like: 99% the exact same bullshit.

But to a Deadhead or a…what do you call a person who likes Phish more than the Dead?

Wrong.

What?

Are you trying to start a fight in the comment section? It’s already weird enough in there.

Sorry.

Let’s continue. Who else is going to be performing with…what is this phrase they keep using? The “core four?”

Yeah. The “core four.” Someone thought that phrase up and now we all just have to live with it.

It rhymes!

It does. So: Bruce Hornsby and Jeff Chimenti will be playing keyboards.

Two keyboardists?

Yeah. Weird thing: Bruce Hornsby refuses to play with the Dead unless they provide him with another piano player that he can bully. And Bruce Hornsby’s maybe seven feet tall, but he’g got quick feet, so you can’t get away. He did some fucked-up shit to Vince, but the stuff he’s already doing to Chimenti is going down in the history books. Or arrest reports: times have changed and this kind of behavior is rarely laughed off anymore.

Already doing?

The night the contracts were signed, Bruce Hornsby dressed in drag, seduced Jeff Chimenti, and–during love-making–implanted several post-hypnotic suggestions into Jeff Chimenti’s sub-conscious.

I thought you said Bruce Hornsby was seven feet tall?

Jeff Chimenti likes ’em big.

Are you two gonna be serious?

Yes.

Yes.

Sorry.

Don’t be sorry. Stop enabling him. Help people out with some honest answers to the questions they might have about the Farewell Shows. This is a big deal to some people and they want some true facts. You were a journalism major in school: act like it.

Unemployed and bitter?

Hey. Get back to the FAQ or say goodbye.

Fine.

Why are the shows being held in Chicago?

It’s kinda/sorta/almost the middle of the country, so people from both coasts are equally inconvenienced. And Chicago is very temperate in the summer.

Is it, really?

Oh, fuck, no. It’s like a marsupial’s pouch. The precise temperature, moisture level, and smell of a tin wash basin full of piss left out in the sun all morning.

Are the shows sold-out?

They haven’t gone on sale yet, but they’ll sell out the second the digital gate is opened. The ticket-bots and StubHub touts are already circling and shenanigans have most suredly already begun.

What about the prices?

What about ’em? This is a goddamned capitalist society and the Dead’re free to charge whatever the market will bear as recompense for their years of creativity and struggle!

Slow down, Dagny: I just wanted to know how much the tickets were.

Oh, expensive as shit. Well, actually: the Stones charge more, and those fuckers have been on that farewell tour of theirs for so long that they’ve run out of places to play and had to hit India and Australia. Also way cheaper than the Super Bowl and they have that every year and attending it in person is empirically provable to be worse than watching it on a TV at a halfway decent gathering. So: not ridiculous in context.

Is it going to be any good?

Oh, fuck, yeah. It’ll be a great time no matter how they play and I think they’ll play well, regardless of their history at every single important gig of their entire career without exception. Who cares: you won’t find a ride like this no more.

Seriously, why two keyboardists?

Listen: Bobby and Phil just kind of have custody of this Chimenti guy. They share him, I think. Anyway: he’s become their John Kahn.

Please don’t accuse people of that. End of FAQ.

Buy The Ticket, Take The Ride

seating-chart

In our ongoing coverage of the 50th anniversary shows, TotD presents this exclusive look at the seating/pricing chart for Soldier Field, with some extra info that Big Dead is keeping from you.

  • Red seat fans will have no access to amenities or restrooms during the show. If a fan with red seat tickets sees a fan with a different, better color in the hallways, the fan with the red ticket must cede the right of way and bow his head.
  • The purple seats are there solely to provide the fans in the yellow seats with some semblance of protection from the filthy rabble in the orange and blue seats. Should class warfare break out at the show, the purple section will almost certainly be sacrificed in a rearguard movement to protect the precious rich people.
  • Our esteemed friends in the yellow section shall receive access to a private wi-fi network allowing them to order snacks, see up to 14 different camera angles, or have a member of the red section beaten.
  • While the General Admission area and the Taper’s Section are, in reality, extras in the movie being made of these shows, they have to pay to get in, anyway.
  • During the show, Jay Cutler will throw three interceptions.
  • The blue section smells funny. Like a hotel room that was used to shoot amateur porn and never aired out properly.
  • If anyone in the GA section stops noodle dancing at any time, they will be shot by a sniper.
  • Yellow section ticket-holders are also allowed to yell either “Bruuuuuuce” or “Boooooo.” Everyone else must be cheering for Bruce, no matter what they think of him.

Dead And Nancy

 

bobby moickey mike gordon pelosi

There are three Grateful Deads in this picture. (There is one more Grateful Dead concealed behind a Phish: Billy, whose head you can barely see cresting over Mike Gordon’s head and whose hand you cannot see grabbing onto Nancy Pelosi’s ass.)

Mickey, as always, is prepared for a drum circle to break out at any moment. Later on, he will tell the Senator that he picked out the patriotic sweatband in her honor. Enthusiasts will recognize this as a blatant lie, as Mickey has been wearing that thing since, like, 1970.

Bruce, also as always, looks like a Founding Father. The man is so white he gets the Sunday Edition of the New York Times every day. Bruce is also not that tall: he is standing on a busboy named Carl. Luckily for all involved, getting stood upon by keyboardists is Carl’s fetish; everybody wins.

Bobby’s shitfaced.

Paramount

They screwed Vince, let’s all agree on that. The sounds they made him use were one thing, but it was the personal stuff that really led to Vince’s failure and eventual demise. Before joining the band, Vince was named Cock Money and combs would snap in two immediately upon entering his thick lustrous mane. On Vince’s first day at Front Street, Mickey shaved him and gave him a loser’s name.

(Try saying it like Jerry Lewis: Vince WELLLLL-nick. Glaben.)

Vince didn’t want to dress like that either, but Jon McIntire would wire his Hawaiian shirts to explode if they were removed. This hurt Vince and he went to the band–except Garcia because he was in the bathroom–and told them that if wearing the shirts was so important to everybody, he would just do it. No C-4 necessary.

So Billy punched him in the dick. (In his defense, Billy hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and just wanted to punch the new guy in the dick. Now, that was certainly not how Vince read the situation; he cried for 90 minutes. I’m just relaying facts here.)

The sounds, however, were truly the crux of the problem: wheezy, hollow tinklings made by primitive synthesizers. The aural equivalent of watching a clown car get raped to death.

A clown car get…what the fuck is wrong with you? This is the comeback special and you’re talking about Vince and a forcibly penetrated harlequinade? 

Is that not the show business way?

It is not, no. Welcome people back. Maybe a list. An update on your mental health.

Doesn’t the clown rape kinda give a clue about my mental health?

Point taken.

Anyhoo, imagine if someone pulled the bullshit on you that they pulled on Vince: “Here’s your new office and your desk and you know your responsibilities, so I’ll just let you dive right in…oh, that guy? That’s the guy we hired to also do your job. But better. And everyone’s gonna love him more. Oh, and he’ll be able to get away with things you wouldn’t even dare to THINK about.”

Because there were no rules for Bruce. He was allowed to waltz into the house at all hours and turn the basement into his room and  his girlfriend slept over sometimes. So unfair. Listen to the cavalcade of Dark Star teases in this show from ‘Chicago ’91 .

Seriously, if Vince had ever tried teasing Dark Star, Phil would have smacked him with a rolled-up newspaper. And a chair.

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