And then there was that night that Garcia smoked something weird and turned into a kaiju.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: keith godchaux (Page 12 of 17)
Oh, sweet mother of six orphaned boys and a non-gender-declared child named Yes, is this an apparition in sound, a thrusting pulsing surging raging honker of a show that you need to listen to. I chose my words carefully: you NEED to listen to this show; 5/14/78 in the providence Civic Center is now a part of Maslow’s Heirarchy. It’s in the middle somewhere.
Some might say that the 17 minute Let It Grow, which incorporates the controversial (amongst the silly and shallow) new disco rhythms all the while bounding forward confidently is the highlight of the show, and they’d almost definitely be right, but listen to the next track.
Samson & Delilah gets short shrift, sometimes deservedly. it was always prone to wobbling and had this odd habit of coming to an unexpected, but complete, stop every once in a while for no reason at all, followed by this hilarious lurch back into the tune. Not this night, though. Keith kicks off the song with the drummers, comping funkily until the rest of them put out their cigarettes and remember that they’re working and Garcia just snarls his way through the back-up vocals and continues into Ship of Fools, growling and snapping consonants off quick and sharp.
Listen.
To come: Dave picks his 8th.
Trust me on this one and enlarge this picture and MARVEL IN WONDER at Bobby’s muscular thighs bursting the fuck out of those jorts.
Also, and I swear this will be the last time for this, do Phil got a booty? He do!
Okay, pranksters or not, the other guys should have noticed what Billy was staring at and warned Clive Davis about what was going to happen.
Also, for some reason, Mickey and Keith are taking this opportunity to work out their new secret handshake.
This group of people is 28.5% presentable.
Also: Bobby does not know how mops work.
You want to look away, sure: of course you do.
You can’t: your eyes keep coming back, meeting his, falling in to the crevasses that the noticeably thick pancake refuses to pretty up.
You try to appreciate Mrs. Donna Jean’s gorgeous hair, or Bobby’s gleaming smile, or Mickey’s…you try to appreciate Mickey, but still you’re drawn, like the spider to the nerdy orphan from Queens, to that uncomprehending blind rage glare, the sheer belligerence that has led to the Bare-Necked Tie.
Phil was having an off-day in this picture.
BOBBY, GUARD YOUR DICK! BILLY IS STARING AT IT WITH BLOODHUNGER!
Why would you leave yourself open like that…and his other hand’s full. He’s just waiting there like the Benelux nations in 1940. Pacifism is only a viable creed if the guy standing next to you isn’t Billy.
And Mrs. Donna Jean is simply adorbs and we are going to talk about what the hell the deal is with her and Keith soon, because this photo espacially illustrates a, shall we say, discrepancy.
Today brings another installment of Shows Of The Cusp Of Being Something with this obscure gem from 1/31/78 at the Uptown Theater, where they never played a bad show, and again TotD brings you the Pros and Cons.
Pros The Drums>Black Peter>Truckin’ is Hall of Fame, no other way to put it. Also, the Drums is more rightly called Jam, because Garcia stays out there and makes boogeyman noises.
Then after the Truckin’ jam, Bobby tries to go back into Playin’, but no one is having none of that, thank you Mr. Man. Except, the rest of them haven’t made any decision beyond “let’s not do what Bobby wants” and five guys start playing nine different songs at once and it’s kind of like your racist grandpa: you’d be embarrassed if a normal person heard it, but to you: it’s endearing.
Cons Keith. Just: Keith. Plus, it’s a Betty Board, so he’s mixed up real high because that’s how Betty do. But, he’s just playing like the fourth-best piano player at your high school the whole show: COMP compcomp COMP comp.
Those balloons? They ain’t full of air.
It’s better to simply avoid nitrous oxide, instead of the more common relationship people have with the gas, which is to enjoy it immensely until, one afternoon, they enjoy it slightly too immensely and get a dick-hair away from stroking out and never do it again. Everyone with a certain level of drug-fondness who has made it to a certain age has had that one bad time; nitrous is Latin for ‘tequila’.
I’m as stymied as you on this one. Sure, Phil’s signature is a bit cramped and inward-directed, but the measurement is a weird thing. Did someone need to know who in the Dead had the biggest signature?
Billy’s signature was displayed at a picnic, no matter how many times he promised he wasn’t going to do that shit anymore.
Mickey’s was nice and plump, but curved to the right.
Keith’s signature was too big, actually: it never quite got hard, instead taking on the consistency of a Nerf football left on the lawn through the storm.
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