This should bring a smile to every Enthusiasts face: FoTotD and member-in-good-standing of the Haight Street Irregulars Busterdog sends us video of (if you don’t want to watch it) Phil and his Phriends romping through Casey Jones at TXR, and Phil is leaping and dancing and headbanging; there was no dabbing that I saw, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: phil lesh (Page 38 of 105)
And sometimes you find a picture you’ve never seen before. (I feel like I should have seen this photo already–I’ve seen the rest of the photo shoot–but it’s new to me. Am I just clueless?)
PLUS over at Terrapin Crossroads, Phil and his Phriends are taking the stage and you can listen in thank to Radio Busterdog.
All The Sexy:
- The sound of rain hitting the roof on a dark morning.
- Machinery with a lot of pistons.
- 1974 Viking beard Phil.
- Boot-cut jeans.
- Noses that have been broken two or three times.
- Lizzy Caplan.
- Warm, gentle breezes.
- Plaid skirts.
- Peregrine falcons.
- Typewritten letters that smell of the sender.
None Of The Sexy
- The sound of rain on the roof of your car during your commute.
- Air conditioners. (Least sexy technology ever.)
- 1984 sloppy drunk Phil.
- Skinny jeans.
- Gabe Kaplan.
- Icy, stinging gales.
- Plaid trousers, especially when worn with suspenders and a T-shirt with a ska band on it.
- Atlanta Falcons
- Inspirational Instagram posts.
I used to be in a band; we weren’t good, but we were loud and we had a basement all to ourselves. We didn’t win the Battle of the Bands. Never got any chicks, man.
But, Jesus, we were loud.
Me and the drummer never got along, which is typical, but we were both teenagers and teenagers are fucking typical. If you had mean-mugged him, I would have cold-cocked you. He was my drummer and being in a band means something. It’s a tribe and you have to pick sides and I picked the side playing The Ramones, poorly, loudly.
We didn’t play Soldier Field for our 50th Anniversary. Singer’s in Louisiana, he’s an entomologist. Guitar player’s in Boston and he works in a recording studio. Drummer’s still a drummer.
And I’m here.
But I used to be in a band.
“I demand approval over script and casting, Weir.”
“I don’t even know if I have that, man.”
“Here’s my list of acceptable actors to portray me.”
“Phil, we’re playing. Please don’t hand me lists.”
“Yeah, but everything happens simultaneously. It’s why the us-es from 1984 are discussing something that happens in 2016. Therefore, we must somewhere exist in a space where we’re not playing, and I can hand you whatever I please.”
…
“Yeah, okay.”
“I mean, not whatever I please. I wouldn’t hand you a duffel bag full of furious raccoons.”
“Mickey would.”
“Mickey would, yeah.”
“Lemme read this. You’re really being a pain-in-the-ass about this.”
“A member of the Grateful Dead is being a pain-in-the-ass. Inform the media.”
“Okay. Huh. Christopher Lee?”
“Absolutely. First choice.”
“Phil, you can’t be played by Christopher Lee.”
“We have the same noble posture and patrician’s nose!”
“He’s dead.”
“How dead?”
“Thoroughly. Plus, even before he was dead, he was a million years old. And British.”
“I’m sure he could do the accent.”
“Next. Tim Roth. Tim Roth? Also British. And doesn’t look anything like you.”
“CG.”
“None of you understand what CG is and how expensive the stuff is.”
“Fine, no Tim Roth.”
“‘The guy from Star Wars.’ Which guy from Star Wars?”
“The black one.”
“No.”
“The other black one.”
“Lando?”
“Sure.”
“Also no. How about C3PO? You kinda look like him.”
“Which robot was he, gay or midget?”
“Gay.”
“Yeah, okay, maybe.”
“You wanna hit Creepy Ernie’s after the tour? My treat.”
“What are you saying?”
“Not saying. Inviting.”
“I need new clothes.”
“Well, you know–”
“I need fat clothes. Is that what you’re saying?”
…
“Phil, you’re sweating what can be described as beer-gravy.”
“Kiss my ass, Weir.”
“I’m not body-shaming; it’s just that you’re not really helping yourself here.”
“Fuck off.”
“You started this.”
“Fuck off.”
“And we could stop at Big-Dicked Sheila’s. so she can fix whatever she did to you last time.”
“It’s the Johnny Ramone!”
“Yeah, still.”
Here’s why this is secretly the most adorable picture of Phil ever taken: he didn’t want to wear his glasses with his tuxedo, and he can’t see a thing.
“Yeah, they made the hero of the show the asshole from the record company.”
“Stop it, you’re killing me.”
“And all the music is cover versions cuz they couldn’t afford the rights to the real stuff.”
“NOOOOO! Ha! Stop it! Who plays you, Jerry?”
“Jack Black.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Honest to God.”
“HAHAHAHA. What about Phil? Who plays Phil?”
“Some guy who was on C.S.I for a few seasons. He’s got red hair.”
“Why?”
“TV, man.”
“What about Bobby?”
“Josh Meyers.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA.”
…
“You’re serious.”
“Yup.”
…
“HAHAHAHAHAHA.”
Hey, Bill Walton. Who are you wearing?
“Someone gave me this t-shirt for free.”
Great.
Hey, Mickey. Who are you wearing?
“Sailor shirt to make fun of Weir.”
Still doing that?
“Always.”
Okay.
Hey, Bobby. Who are you wearing?
“Everything I have on came from Creepy Ernie’s.”
Yeah.
Hey, Phil. Who are you wearing?
“Shirt Jill bought for me.”
Sure. You wanna maybe do up another button or two?
“I do not.”
Good talk.
Hey, Billy. Who are you wearing?
“Mickey’s crotch-horns.”
Cool.
“Gonna blast ’em at that Leo kid.”
Very cool.
Hey, Josh Meyers. Who are you wearing?
“Oh, interesting that you should ask today; I’ve made some unusual choices with my ensemble. The jacket is Tom Ford, but for my shirt–”
Jesus, I should have known better.
“–I went with Brunello Cucinelli, which is just wild, right? But I figure–”
Please stop talking about your clothes.
“–man can’t live on Tom Ford alone, right?
Ch-KLACK
KABLAMMO!
…
“Did you just blow your brains out?”
I did, yes.
Hey, Pope Francis. Who are you wearing?
“I’m-a wearing da poncho!”
I see that.
“Pope-a can’t-a get wet. Little popes shoot-a off-a da back.”
You’re thinking about mogwai, Your Holiness.
“Can’t-a be too careful. Already got-a one too many popes-a.”
You and Benedict not getting along?
“He-a start with-a da vaping!”
Oh, that’s not okay.
“Every conversation witta da guy.”
That’s terrible.
“Eh. Whatcha gon’ do? I-a forgave him.”
You’re big on forgiveness.
“It’s-a what I do.”
Hey, Garcia. Who are you wearing?
“C’mon, man. Get outta here with that bullshit.”
You’re the only one who gave the right answer.
“What else is new?”
- Master volume.
- Master mass.
- Master density.
- Front pickup tone.
- Back pickup tone.
- Sirius/XM.
- Attitude adjustment (audio).
- Attitude adjustment (emotional).
- Pitch adjustment.
- Yaw adjustment.
- Mute knob. (It was explained to Phil over and over that “mute” was a binary concept, and therefore more suited to one of the many, many switches instead of the many, many knobs. In the end, the customer is always right. The knob is not hooked up to anything and Phil does not recall what it does and has lost the manual.)
- Discombobulater.
- Flugelhorn level.
- Zebrafication.
- Dimmer switch to the lights in Phil’s office. (“JIIIIIL! Come look what my bass can do!”)
- Bombasticism.
- Boominizing.
- Thunderociousness.
- Master volume to Bobby’s guitar (which Phil has not disconnected and in fact deliberately fiddles with during Dead & Company shows and giggles his ass off).
- Not actually a knob: disguised combination to a small safe secreted within the bass containing half-a-mil in uncut diamonds.
- Also not actually a knob: container for suicide pill in case Phil gets kidnapped by aliens in the middle of the show. (In his defense, that has happened before.)
- Also not a knob: thermostat to Terrapin Crossroads.
- REDACTED BY NSA.
- High-frequency filter.
- Low-frequency filter.
- Pool filter.
- When you go to TXR and the menu says “market price” for fish, this knob controls the market price.
- Stankiness.
- Phunkiness. (THE FOLLOWING NUMBERS ARE SWITCHES, BUT I CAN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE THIS ANNOUNCEMENT WITHOUT FUCKING UP THE NUMBERING, WHICH FOR SOME REASON IS IMPORTANT TO ME TO GET RIGHT. ALSO, I AM YELLING.)
- Master power.
- Master rig power.
- Master power for the ISS. (Phil’s 99% sure that’s Alembic’s idea of a joke, but he still hasn’t touched it.)
- Front pickup on/off.
- Back pickup on/off.
- Bobby’s pickup on/off. (Phil feels guilty about doing it, and doubly so for laughing so hard, but he does it at least once a show: Phil watches the streams and sits there with his bass clicking Bob’s guitar on and off. Real quick, so he’ll be the only one who notices, and Bobby’s beard starts frowning and then Phil lets Baby Levon flick the switch once or twice. It’s a fun time for all ages.)
- Garage door opener.
- Panic button.
- Something to do with Twitter.
- Front-of-stage trapdoor, TXR.
- Main dressing room trapdoor, TXR.
- Bar trapdoor, TXR.
- Summons busboy with Arnold Palmer, TXR.
- Sidewinder missile launch.
- Automatically contributes via the Donate Button on the sidebar. (Thanks, Phil!)
- Overrides normal protocols to turn any night into Chimichanga Night.
This is Phil’s 76th birthday present from Jill. There’s going to be a big presentation at his Cap Theater shows and it was supposed to be a surprise.
Sorry.
Also–and I apologize for repeating myself, but the gospel must be shouted from the mountaintop–the bottom of this thing looks like a shark’s vagina.
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