Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: trey anastasio (Page 8 of 9)

The Grateful Dead 50th Anniversary Shows FAQ

January 17, 2015 / / 7 Comments

What’s this I hear about the Dead’s 50th anniversary?

The Grateful Dead’s first gigs were in the spring of 1965, making this year their gold anniversary. The surviving members of the group who have penises and are not TC will be marking the occasion with three concerts over Fourth of July weekend.

Just three shows?

The Dead thought it would be more special to limit the number of appearances. Also, any sort of extended tour would most likely kill one or all of them. But: mostly the thing about making it special.

Didn’t the main guy die years ago? Hairy Mendoza?

Close enough, and: yeah. He died in 1995 and since then, the Dead have reassembled in various forms under different names and with any number of guitarists.

Fake Jerries, yeah.

…

Dude, you can’t call him Hairy Mendoza and then know the term “fake Jerry.”

Sorry, sorry.

The bit is Frequently Asked Questions. Just be the guy asking questions frequently.

Okay, so, who’ll be playing guitar and singing with the Dead at these shows? 

That’s actually (one of) the exciting part(s): Trey Anastasio from Phish will be playing lead guitar and singing a whole bunch of Garcia’s songs.

And that’s exciting because?

Well, first off: Trey’s got a hell of a lot more star power than any of the other dudes up for the gig. Did you know that there is a man named John Kadlecki and he’s a damn fine guitar player?

I do now, I suppose.

And does that fact make you want to book plane tickets and a hotel room?

In no way, shape, or form.

Right. So: Trey. Also, while Phish is clearly the “heir” (whatever that means) to the Dead’s legacy, they’ve always tried to maintain a separation from the Dead in musical styles, lyrical content, attitude towards improvisation, aesthetic presentation.

Would a normal person be able to tell the two bands apart?

Oh, fuck, no. Guitar solos for white kids to take drugs to. Like: 99% the exact same bullshit.

But to a Deadhead or a…what do you call a person who likes Phish more than the Dead?

Wrong.

…

What?

Are you trying to start a fight in the comment section? It’s already weird enough in there.

Sorry.

Let’s continue. Who else is going to be performing with…what is this phrase they keep using? The “core four?”

Yeah. The “core four.” Someone thought that phrase up and now we all just have to live with it.

It rhymes!

It does. So: Bruce Hornsby and Jeff Chimenti will be playing keyboards.

Two keyboardists?

Yeah. Weird thing: Bruce Hornsby refuses to play with the Dead unless they provide him with another piano player that he can bully. And Bruce Hornsby’s maybe seven feet tall, but he’g got quick feet, so you can’t get away. He did some fucked-up shit to Vince, but the stuff he’s already doing to Chimenti is going down in the history books. Or arrest reports: times have changed and this kind of behavior is rarely laughed off anymore.

Already doing?

The night the contracts were signed, Bruce Hornsby dressed in drag, seduced Jeff Chimenti, and–during love-making–implanted several post-hypnotic suggestions into Jeff Chimenti’s sub-conscious.

I thought you said Bruce Hornsby was seven feet tall?

Jeff Chimenti likes ’em big.

Are you two gonna be serious?

Yes.

Yes.

Sorry.

Don’t be sorry. Stop enabling him. Help people out with some honest answers to the questions they might have about the Farewell Shows. This is a big deal to some people and they want some true facts. You were a journalism major in school: act like it.

Unemployed and bitter?

Hey. Get back to the FAQ or say goodbye.

Fine.

Why are the shows being held in Chicago?

It’s kinda/sorta/almost the middle of the country, so people from both coasts are equally inconvenienced. And Chicago is very temperate in the summer.

Is it, really?

Oh, fuck, no. It’s like a marsupial’s pouch. The precise temperature, moisture level, and smell of a tin wash basin full of piss left out in the sun all morning.

Are the shows sold-out?

They haven’t gone on sale yet, but they’ll sell out the second the digital gate is opened. The ticket-bots and StubHub touts are already circling and shenanigans have most suredly already begun.

What about the prices?

What about ’em? This is a goddamned capitalist society and the Dead’re free to charge whatever the market will bear as recompense for their years of creativity and struggle!

Slow down, Dagny: I just wanted to know how much the tickets were.

Oh, expensive as shit. Well, actually: the Stones charge more, and those fuckers have been on that farewell tour of theirs for so long that they’ve run out of places to play and had to hit India and Australia. Also way cheaper than the Super Bowl and they have that every year and attending it in person is empirically provable to be worse than watching it on a TV at a halfway decent gathering. So: not ridiculous in context.

Is it going to be any good?

Oh, fuck, yeah. It’ll be a great time no matter how they play and I think they’ll play well, regardless of their history at every single important gig of their entire career without exception. Who cares: you won’t find a ride like this no more.

…

Seriously, why two keyboardists?

Listen: Bobby and Phil just kind of have custody of this Chimenti guy. They share him, I think. Anyway: he’s become their John Kahn.

Please don’t accuse people of that. End of FAQ.

Downfall From Here

January 17, 2015 / / 2 Comments

Things TotD approves of: making fun of the Dead, making fun of The Phishes, and Hitler. There is also no funnier language than German to have a temper tantrum. (As opposed to Vietnamese, which is scary. Listening to people fight in Vietnamese–at least I think it’s a fight, they may be reciting a treasured comedy routine–is so terrifying you’ll drive yourself to Penney’s and buy a new pair of pants to shit.)

Within one paragraph, you praised Hitler, racist-ed the Vietnamese (who, by the way, are some of the scrappiest little fuckers on the planet and should be admired for all the waves of barbarian ass they kicked out of Saigon,) and made a doody joke.

This brings me to the Hitler video.

Great.

Nothing’s official nowadays until it gets a Downfall parody. The meme is now so old that its origin and original function have been mostly forgotten. The clip’s from a German TV mini-series about the last days in Hitler’s bunker and for some reason Sinbad is in it as Goebbels. Which is kind of a major part, and, even as a fan of the Big ‘Bad, is beyond his capabilities as an actor. The fact that Sinbad is wearing Sinbad clothes also distracts. It was an odd casting choice.

I’ve not seen the six-hour series (spoiler: Hitler is the fifth element,) and to be honest: I won’t. TotD prefers Tarantino’s historical films, in which the Jews win the Holocaust and the Blacks defeat Slavery.

The one thing I would like to know, but due to my beliefs about research–it’s for a different class of people, sweetie–can never find out is: what was up with Yodel and Krebbs? Were they the idiots Hitler kept around to blame things on? Like, everytime the salad Hitler brought for lunch went missing:

“YODEL! KREBBS! WER IST MEIN GREENLEAFEN?”

“Führer?”

“You have eaten mein salad, Yodel.”

“Nein, mein Führer.”

“I clearly marked my name at the top: ‘Adolf H.’ I wrote it with a Sharpie and let it dry very carefully.”

“I did not–”

“I CAN SMELL IT ON YOU.”

“–eat your salad…sir, we go through this every day.”

“Don’t talk while I’m talking. You know it makes your Führer furious.”

…

“Sorry, mein Führer.”

“I want you to replace mein salad, Yodel. Immediately.”

“With all due Respekten…how? We’re in a bunker.”

“Can’t you just nip out to a Panera or something?”

Please just play the video.

My Bassist, He Wrote Me A Letter

January 16, 2015 / / 7 Comments

Thoughts on the Dead is proud to present the actual, honest-to-God letter that Phil wrote to Trey to convince him to join the band this summer in Chicago.

FROM THE DESK OF PHILBERT J. LESH

My Dearest Tray,

Hello. This is your friend, Phil, Phil Lesh. Of the Grateful Dead. I am fine. How are you?

Do you remember when I bounced with you and the other fellows, Trent? Up and down: it was so exciting. And then there was that run of shows back in 1999 with you and your keyboardist friend. Has he died yet? In my experience, keyboardists are like large-breed dogs as far as lifespans go. You played the music of the Grateful Dead–and lived up to its spirit–so well that it left an impression on me.

How did Miami go? I haven’t been there in a while. Last time, a local musician came up to jam with us and his name was Pitbull and it did not go well at all. Is it true that The Phishes will be taking a break for most of 2015? I hope you use this time to recharge and rest and explore new musical ventures.

One such exciting journey might be to play with us this year for our 50th anniversary celebration.

As you might be aware, 2015 marks fifty years since the Grateful Dead’s first show at Magoo’s Pizza Parlor and what a long, strange trip it’s been, Trig. From the Acid Tests to Egypt to Radio City, we’ve always gone forth boldly to seek new sounds and examine obscure rhythms, picking up fans and admirers and sexually-transmitted diseases along the way.

The time has come for the trip to end: we’ve been there, and now it’s time to go back again. Our brother Jerry can’t play with us, but you can. Troy Abracadabra, will you join the Grateful Dead?

Your lifetime of musical innovation and improvisational mastery makes you the perfect, only, and first choice for this role. Also, you have a beard. Plus, you are the only guitarist whom someone does not violently object to. And, you are not Warren Hayes.

The full commitment is for a week’s rehearsal here at Bobby’s studio, then three shows at Soldier Field in Chicago. Per diem is $55 a day.

Which brings us to a delicate subject: we would, if possible, prefer not to pay you. I would wager that, if you choose to take the gig, you will say “I would have done it for free,” in one of the interviews leading up to the shows. Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, Travis?

Failing that, we would like to pay you very little. Certainly less than Mickey, even though in any sane and just universe that should be impossible.

As far as our playing styles, you have played with the four of us many times; as far as the repertoire goes, you know it or could fake it. (El Paso’s only two chords, really.) Some time in the woodshed will surely get us up to speed, although I would like to mention in advance that–and there has been a meeting about this specific subject–we in the Grateful Dead prefer sinuous, slowly-evolving transitions between songs. Not that shit you do where you get bored and just start playing a new tune.

In closing, I with the best for the new year for you, your lovely wife Chewbacca, and your daughters Kevin, Purple, and Gwyneth Paltrow.

Gratefully yours,

Phil

Treycia

January 16, 2015 / / 3 Comments

trey jerry fat

Weird things had begun happening the second that Trey signed the contract to join the Dead for the 50th anniversary shows at Soldier Field.

He had had beards on and off for decades, but he never recalled any of them being quite so full. So…muppety.

The weight gain was alarming, but not surprising. Usually a vegetarian, Trey had been having insatiable cravings for meatball subs and 7-11 hot dogs and Haagen-Dazs straight from the container. Luckily, Trey’s vanity had disappeared, too, so he was fine with sweatpants now.

The fires and the ex-wives, on the other hand, were not fine at all with Trey, who at this point was wishing he had taken up the bass clarinet.

Fil And A Fish

December 7, 2013 / / 0 Comments

phil trey dark

The problem with the lighting wasn’t apparent until Phil’s head slammed back into his torso when the spot came up and he flashed back to Altamont.

“GET TO THE CHOPPER,” he screamed and then he mistook Trey for Jack Cassidy (however you spell it: the shaggy bass player with the giant lips and giant bass guitar) and put him in a headlock and threw them both headlong into the drum kit, which Phil was completely convinced was a helicopter.

There was no encore.

Somebody Stop Me

October 12, 2013 / / 0 Comments

The Roots: A Benefit For Headcount

Trey was, and is, a rather polite guy: parents did a good job with him, so he felt it was’t his place to musically cut in when Bobby was soloing.

Unfortunately, for 30 years, the way Bobby knew it was time to stop soloing and go back to playing chords with that pinky-trill thing was when Garcia ran out of patience and started playing over him real loud.

When this didn’t happen, Bobby doubled down and just kept playing and it got weird. 35 minutes in, the bass player snuck off, ostensibly to pee but he didn’t come back. The audience was confused and a mood overtook the room that can obly be described properly in the German language. Bobby was crying at the end: he just wanted his Garcia.

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