A shot from the Gizah Sound and Light Theatre, where we find Phil rocking out like no one’s watching.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: from egypt with love (Page 1 of 2)
“I asked for a pack of Camels, not a pack of camels!”
Now, a good joke would have been to have snuck into the tombs before everybody got there and install a fake panel of hieroglyphics with a Stealie inscribed in it. Of course, Billy would probably take it as a sign, scream “I’M A MOTHERFUCKING HIGHLANDER, YOU ANNUAL VALLEY-FLOODING SONS-OF-BITCHES!” and take off, ripping off his clothes as he punched every dick on his way out of the Valley of the Kings.
p.s. The title to this post is the answer to, “What did the Ancient Egyptian student say to his spelling teacher?”
“Parish, get me off this crazy thing!”
Here’s what’s on Garcia’s mind: Oh, good–five more drummers. Just what we need.
For his sins, his successes, his problems and his virtues, Mickey shall be judged.
But he really does have incredible posture.
Also: Mickey brought his chaps to Egypt.
The press conference before leaving for Egypt. Note Billy’s broken arm. Note Phil’s arm about to be broken.
“Garcia! Garcia! GARCIA!”
“Yes, Bobby?”
“The camels have humps.”
…
“Thanks, buddy.”
Remarkable though it was in a place made primarily out of granite and sand, Garcia still managed to set some shit on fire accidentally. The local Bedouins gave him the honorary name Al-Hakka Makka Makka, which means “The One with Untreated Sleep Apnea.”
Listening to 9/16/78: the last night in Egypt, the total eclipse show, the good one, the high one, the one with the Olin Arageed>FOTM. It is mystical and historical and spiritual and FUCK are they dragging ass on this one.
Garcia’s having a great night, guitar-wise, no matter what physical shape he was in (according to every single book written about him) and Keith’s piano, so famously out-of-tune that it precluded a major-label release of the show, doesn’t sound that bad.
But it doesn’t, except for a few moments, have much spark to it. It’s the sound of six jet-lagged men (and Mrs. Donna Jean) who were in shaky health to begin with.
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