It’s got everything:
- Shitty audio!
- Parish doing sketch comedy!
- Black guys wearing tie-dye!
- Dick growling at callers!
- And Shakedown Meat!
What the hell is Shakedown Meat?
It’s that thing where an epileptic owns a butcher shop.
Get out.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: dick latvala
Hey, Dick Latvala.
“Ah, shit: it’s you again. Little cocksucker. Whaddya want?”
Just checking in. Wanted to say Merry Christmas.
“Yeah, yeah. Happy Harmonica.”
Close enough. What did you ask Santa for?
“Clothing with Dead bullshit all over it.”
Can’t you just steal that stuff from the office?
“I want one of them elven cocksuckers to sew it for me. Makes it special.”
Sure. You see the box set that came out this year? 30 Trips?
“Crap.”
It was retrospective! It was career-spanning!
“Was there anything in there from the 80’s or 90’s?”
Quite a bit, yeah.
“Then it was crap.”
Some of those shows–
“Crap.”
–were great and many Deadheads have–
“Craaaaaap.”
–fond memories of those shows and…you’re the worst.
“I’ve been told.”
You’re the King of Picky Deadheads.
“Hell, I made a living out of it for a while.”
Fuck it, ladies and gentlemen: I’m doing the Dick’s Picks. here’s what TotD has to report so far.
That first one is fucking AWESOME. Just killer. Real, real tasty; also sweet as fuck, yo.
Number two? Number two? The second one? Get the fuck outta here with that kooky bullshit, you bullshit kook. The act of asking as to its greatness denigrates its very greatness. Just accept Volume 2‘s manly gift and leave the room without turning your back.
The third one is quite something, too. It is good to listen to–
You have neither an actual idea, nor the patience to do reviews of the records: am I correct?
Twice right, there.
…
But I do have a picture of Dick!
…
You do realize what you just said is going to get a lot of weird Google hits, right?
Bring on the pervs, baby!
Bobby got lost in The Vault for about two hours the day this photo was taken; he only found his way out because Dick Latvala kept yelling “Marco!” and Bobby would shout back, “No, it’s Bobby! Bobby Weir!”
Dick’s Picks was a success. It is inarguable.
There are the pristine (mostly) versions of legendary shows, the stuff you listen to over and over after making it halfway through yet another ’89 that was infuriatingly similar to the last ’89 show you didn’t really see the point to. Harpur College, Fillmore East, the He’s Gone for Bobby Sands. (When Bobby was told about Bobby Sands, he responded, “No, he doesn’t,” and then Billy was all over him.
Listen to 16, 11/8/69 the familiar minor riff in 10 emerges from nowhere and retreats to an alternate dimension where the Mind Left Body theme got turned into a song and the Playin’ riff just showed up in Dark Stars now and again. You would know it was an alternate reality because Garcia would have a goatee on top of his beard.
AND THEN they start playing Uncle John’s, but just the music because at this point it’s just a riff and then your face melts and you pick it up except it fell on the carpet and you were eating fried chicken so…ahh, shit there’s face all over the–
We interrupt the nonsense to just say: hey, the guy’s working himself through some shit right now. Things are weird at the house, okay? You’ve been there.
–okay, okay, one more CrunchBerry–
Yeah, he disgusts us, too. You’re here of your own free will. No one’s forcing you to be here EXCEPT FOR ME WHO IS HOLDING GUN UP TO INTERNET!
You done?
Yes.
Perhaps the ultimate compliment one can give of this show is that it, briefly and entirely against my own preference, made me dance just a little bit. Sadly, sadly, but with hope? Maybe. They made me do something I didn’t want to do. The Grateful Dead are time-travelling CIA operatives.
© 2021 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments