Caught here in mid-smirk, Bobby is trying his hardest not to openly mock his band member in front of a paying crowd, but the fact that Phil has matched his sweatband to his t-shirt is not helping matters.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: phil lesh (Page 60 of 105)
I don’t know what is going on here. is it a vest? A sleeveless coat? Whatever you call it, it looks like something a 55-year-old lesbian from Montpelier would pair with Tevas and call “dressy.”
Reasons for a backup piano:
- First-string piano tears its ACL.
- Leverage in contract negotiations.
- Keith liked to play them both at the same time, stretching his arms out like Christ (if Christ were the keyboardist in Yes) to tinkle both sets of ivories. When Phil rightly pointed out that he wasn’t actually accomplishing anything, Keith fired back: “YOU’RE NOT–” and passed out.
- There was a Buy One Get One sale at The Piano Barn and passing up that kind of deal is criminal.
- Pianos should always be kept in pairs or they get lonely and often display obsessive behavior.
- After the actual show, Keith, Bobby, and Mrs. Donna Jean would entertain a select few fans with their Fabulous Baker Boys routine. It was a failure because Mrs. Donna Jean is no one’s idea of a sultry chanteuse, Bobby does not really know how to play the piano, and Keith would burst into tears during Making Whoopie.
- It’s where the drugs are stashed. Used to be a guitar case, then a speaker enclosure, now a piano.
- It just followed the Grateful Dead home one day. The Grateful Dead’s mom was all, “You already have an enormous piano,” and the Grateful Dead was all, “I promise I’ll transport it around the country ar great expense,” and Mom was all, “Okay,” and the Dead was all, “YAAAY!”
- Billy Joel might show up.
- Due to a malfunction with the Time Sheath technology (Mickey played drums on it until it spazzed out,) the piano to the right is actually the same piano as the one on the left, except from ten minutes from now. It’s fine as long as they don’t touch because that would decreate the universe.
- They started the tour with six; this is all that’s left.
Mister, you take that fucking ball cap off right the fuck now. This is not a baseball cap band. You’ve crossed the line, Lesh!
So many questions:
- Why is Phil wearing hobo jeans?
- Did Mickey wash the bowl his mother used to cut his hair before making his world-famous Micky-roni and cheese?
- How bad should one feel about one’s life choices that it was so easy to recognize Parish by just his beefy forearm and the side of his afro?
- Honestly: were these men sponsored by the naked scaffolding and hastily nailed-together plywood industries?
- Is there anything symbolic about Phil not paying the slightest bit of attention to the drummers?
- Did Billy and Mickey fuck with Phil by deliberately excluding him from group chats and trips to the food court by saying, “Sorry, Phil: mustaches only.”
- Was Garcia allowed at mustache-only events? (Mickey said sure: beard contains mustache; Billy said no: beard supersedes and encompasses mustache. In the end, it didn’t matter because Garcia didn’t want to hang out with the drummers, anyway.)
- Does Phil have to make pee-pee?
“The Berm of Sound.”
“Nah.”
“The Palisade of Sound.”
“Nope.”
“The Vertical Ceiling/Floor of Sound.”
“That’s a reach. Why don’t we just go with our first idea?”
SYMBIOSIS: Most scientists have come to the consensus that Phil and his sweatband are mutually beneficial, with Phil providing sustenance and security and the sweatband secreting a substance that, chemically, lies somewhere in the middle of heroin, amphetamines, and powdered grizzly bear testicles. (Phil calls the substance his “honkytonk juice.”)
PARASITISM: There is also evidence for this hypothesis, as the sweatband has nearly tripled in size since its first appearance. Also, Phil is adamant in his claim that he’s not wearing a sweatband, but if you try to remove it, he will lose his shit and attack you using whatever is at hand as an improvised weapon such as a large crucifix, a holy water cistern, or a still-smoking censer. (I am assuming you would attempt to take the sweatband off while Phil was attending Mass.)
FUCKED-UP MOLE: It’s just a fucked-up mole.
ALIENS: Princeton University bookstore shoplifter Jimmy Smiths proposes that Phil is actually a Cat Person from Felicidae IV, throneworld to the Felis Empire; therefore, his genitals are on his right forearm. Jimmy has lost touch with most of his friends.
ILLEGAL ALIENS: Billy has, on plentiful occasions and in varied states of consciousness, accused Phil of being a Coyoté and smuggling Mexicans in to the country via his sweatband. When asked how on earth that would be possible, Billy responded, “Our sound system came to life, we have a time travel device, Garcia’s briefcase is infinitely large on the inside: why wouldn’t my idea work?” He has a point, to be honest.
Nothing specifically interesting about this one, but it’s cool on the whole and big enough to use as a desktop, if that’s your thing.
Please not: the proto-Wall’s asymmetry, Garcia’s bitchin’ track pants, the complete lack of security.
“I would love to listen to your lecture, Phil, but I can’t hear you over my bell-bottomed trousers.”
Well, it was fun last time; let’s try it again.
Worst thing in photo: name it and–as always–defend your answer in the comments!
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