Category Archives: Grateful Dead, Fare Thee Well

Alpine89

For those that can’t find satisfaction anywhere since Garcia passed, there was Meet Up at The Movies. Those of us that were at Alpine that year remember a few things. We Bid You Goodnight caused God himself to cry for the next 2 days straight. The torrential rains began immediately following the first We Bid You Goodnight since December 31, 1978. I’ll never forget the opening lyrics and the intense amount of chills that coursed through my entire body. It was on a Monday and the last time my body was completely dry until some time the following Thursday. If there was ever a Navy Seal Hell Week on Grateful Dead Tour, it was Alpine 89. The first hour or so that followed our exit from the Ampitheater was pure ecstasy. Then came the realization that not only were you as wet as you were high but that, high was wearing off and wet wasn’t.

As a 45 year old man now, The Summer of 89 was My personal Summer of 69. My first Summer that I said, “Fuck It!” and left home with $40 and a backpack and hitched rides around the country seeing the Summer Tour in it’s entirety, all by myself. Well… Not really by myself, a bunch of you were out there too. It’s the Summer I really learned the depth and magnitude of the experience and had sufficient time to have the outer shells ripped off of me like an onion. The year I realized I was a stranger nowhere and could find commonalities and kindness anywhere. The year I realized that I can become everything and become nothing all within the same week. The Summer I realized I could have a mountain of riches one day ordering $50 Steaks to my room at The Ritz Carlton and having conversations with the crew at the bar and spend the following night eating grilled cheese and sleeping in the woods sharing deep thoughts with the homeless. I experienced all sides of life that Summer and I’ll never be the same because of it. It changed everything about my perspective on life. It was the best Summer of my life…

On to reviewing the Meet Up at The Movies… The Summer of 89 found the band in the finest form they had experienced in a long time.  As the show kicked off with Hell In a Bucket, we all instantly remembered what made The Dead, The Dead. I was right back there except dry this time. I should have gotten fully dressed and took a shower before the Movie to really bring it all back home. When the first notes of Sugaree get fired off I always get this indescribable and soothing calm that comes over me. Hearing Garcia’s voice is like being dipped in a vat of Cool Aloe when you have a sunburn. I was reminded of so many of those nights inside of venues when in the midst of the brain melting mayhem, you looked toward the stage and just immediately noticed Garcia’s right arm and elbow that always seemed to stand out like an angel’s wing amongst the backdrop of dim lights and his all black attire. As he ran through the solos, it was as if The drummers kept this enormous machine spinning while Brent’s sweet Hammond heaped coal into the furnace that was processed by the machine and shot out out as pure heat that flew off of Garcia’s strings like sonic bullets covering us all in the radiant glow of progressive and continuing enlightenment. The whole thing being pushed steadily forward by the incomparably deep sounds of Phil’s bass that was always there to perfectly cover any open spaces we might fall through.

The Cowboy segment never disappoints and 89 was certainly a healthy and dominant year for Weir. Then the official first set Garcia favorite of all fans born to wander the world and play the game of life through the eyes of a rebellious and unattached drifter, Althea. Every single verse in that song is a Masterpiece. Each one better than the last… It cuts you as deep as it heals you. It attempts to correct you as much as it encourages you never to be corrected. One of my favorite favorite Jerry tunes ever and I think a lot of us feel that way.

I like Victim now better than I did then. That’s all I’m gonna say. That tune really became the official Anthem for The Freaked Out Early Exit. I saw a lot of spooked out hippies head for the doors early at many a show during that tune. West LA made me realize that not only was Garcia my favorite artist of all time but that he was also my favorite Gangster! All of a sudden those Orthopedic shoes started looking a little more like some crisp white Gangsta kicks that may have been a gift from a friend name Rocco or Tony Montana. The whole thing just brimming with the sound that added so many characters and colors to everything the band played. I didn’t know if I should just keep smiling or just start crying….

When Desolation Row started I went to get a bite to eat… At home… I got home, boiled water, cooked some ziti, ate it and got back in time for the last 3 verses. When the song began, I noticed Weir appeared to have a runny nose. He actually had time to completely heal from a mild cold during the song. Deal provided everything required for an intermission filled with excitement and anticipation of more of the same high energy we were all jiving on…  I must say, I appreciated the 30 second Intermission as opposed to what felt like a week and a half of waiting for the band to come back on the night it actually happened. While I’m saying that, Is it just me or are songs actually much shorter than I remembered them being? It always seemed like Space was the hardest 3 hours to get through… Now when I listen back, it wasn’t but a few minutes… It felt like forever back in the day…

Box was always a favorite and consistently a good sign of things to come when the second set opened with it. The Foolish Heart was outstanding and as a Garcia tune, I always liked it from the first time I heard it. I felt that way about most Garcia tunes. Looks like Rain was made instantly better because Terrapin followed it. As the the band made their way into drums, we get a camera full of Kreutzmann who looked like an Epileptic that just discovered bread sticks at a salad bar. Billy could go way out there and absolutely had the best faces of any member in the band when he was really in the pocket. His eyes were so far back in his head I’m surprised he didn’t get jumped by Paramedics. I always have loved watching him. Mickey is just plain sinister on drums playing with all kinds of cool stuff back there. Shit gets weird during drums and you’d look up and Mickey would be hitting a Goat’s skull with the jawbone bone of a donkey or some kinda shit like that. What a treat!

Watching  Jerry and Brent interact is something else that brings tears to my eyes. If any one of us tried to stand between Garcia and Brent at any point, during any show, we’d melt faster than a chocolate Easter Bunny in The Caribbean sun. When those 2 were interacting with each other musically it provided more magical moments than David Copperfield’s Vegas routine. I’m eternally grateful to have been present for so many of those moments.

The big reason I wouldn’t miss this years Meet Up at The Movies was because of The Dew. If my Soul was a song, It would be The Dew. Watching Garcia during that was a mixture of euphoria and sorrow. Euphoric that it happened, sad that it hasn’t in 20 years and never will again.  If I was only able to listen to one song for the rest of my life, it would be Garcia singing The Dew. That night was a fine example of why. For a man that rarely moved more than a few inches during the course of an evening, nobody in history could hold 20,000 people in the palm of their hand like Garcia could. During the quiet moments, we’d all wait to breathe until it was most appropriate. Garcia smiling for one second on the big screen still sends cheers throughout Theaters from Los Angeles to New York City. I’d like to personally thank Carolyn Garcia for the last great Garcia years from the late 80s to the very early 90s. Mountain Girl was the one constantly positive piece to the Garcia puzzle. She made more of the sacrifices that had to be made, often at the expense of her own comfort, to care for Jerry throughout his life than anyone. He was as vibrant and alive through that stretch as I was personally ever able to see him. Often times in life, the bucket that holds your gifts is the same size as the bucket that holds your curses. For someone like Garcia, Balance was a point he passed by very briefly on his way to the next extreme. A talent like the world will only experience once in history, not nearly as impressed by himself as the throngs of followers that surrounded him. A reluctant leader better acquainted with his own shortcomings than any outsider would ever consider him having. It was all part of what caused us to Love him even more. Even from a Theater, over 25 years later, his star was shining as brightly as it ever has… He made all of us feel like he was singing directly to us. We all thought, at least a few times, he was looking right at us, he was just that engaging. He didn’t have to be flashy because his core emitted more Juice on a bad day than a costumed poser could possess on their best day. He had the attention of everybody and everybody hoped, if only for a moment, to have his… That was well worth the price of admission…

Dean Sottile (Pronounced SoTilly)
The Official Home Of Unofficial Grateful Dead News

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In news that shocked pop music fans of the world like finding out there was no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny, rumors leaked this week that Bob Weir would hit the road again this fall with John Mayer and bass player from the Phish, Mike Gordon. The Rhythm Devils were on board as well even though Billy thinks a lot of people, in general, are assholes. Since I will never use the term “Core + #” to explain anything that happens with the remaining players of my favorite band, from this point on I will refer to them as The members of the band not named Garcia. This will help with any confusion in the future. The “Core 4” belongs to the Yankess, Like it or Not!

Perhaps most surprising of all are the reports that Taylor Swift will be covering Donna parts and vocals. When Bob Weir was asked about these rumors he said, “I believe Taylor can intelligently interpret the vibe we’re laying down and give to it a little something fresh and new. She’s got this piece of something that really gives some perspective to the music that’s never been experienced before which I guess goes without saying being that she never experienced any of the music before.” John Mayer, hated by most Dead Fans because his records sell, had this to say, “It’s gonna be great experience for all of us and I know it won’t take more than a week or two before I get dat ass again!”

Reports of the Fall tour went over like Brown Acid at Woodstock among the Grateful Dead Faithful. The announcement was met with the same kind of enthusiasm you might find with your invitation to Jury Duty. Many fans are outraged and insulted that the members of the band, that are not named Garcia, would have the audacity to play music with anyone other than the same guys that have been trying to pull off Garcia for decades. We all know by now the unbridled joy that circulates when anyone from Phish is included. This time, Dead Heads get to be treated to the band’s bass player, nicknamed Cactus because his personality appears to be that of a prick. As a veteran of hundreds of Phish shows dating back to 1991, I can assure you, he’s a creative genius that is quite prickish on the surface. I don’t know him, so he very well could be a veritable geyser of sunshine and happiness but you’d never guess that by looking at his face. Dead Heads have long felt it necessary to hate Phish for some reason and have often complained about Phish fans attempting to shove Phish down their throats. It appears like the guys left of the Dead, not named Garcia, are helping with that all they can.

It’s rumored that the first appearance of this group will take place at The Prankster’s Acoustic Acid Test, 4th of July weekend. Rumors that The Pranksters have rented out all of Northerly Island for nearly a week are widespread. The Band of Jokers were in Chicago securing legal permission to host their festivities which shows that these people are smarter than your average bears. I never knew those Clowns had that kinda money to be honest with you. Seems like they possess way more power and resources than anyone may have imagined. Apparently, Prankstering is Big Business. I’ve been doing all this shit for free… What the hell am I thinking???

I look forward to a young guy like John Mayer taking on a project with our favorite musicians almost as much as I look forward to hearing what a well studied Trey will be bringing to the experience. I know my opinion may not fall in the majority of those that make up our scene but give a musician like John Mayer or Trey some time to study the master and I think the end result will be great music. The problem is, what we experienced was the Soul of Garcia. No amount of study or natural talent can give a guy that.

Brings me back to one of those moments… Black Peter, Vegas ’91… In the midst of this solemnly tempoed tune, Bill and Mickey’s cymbals sound almost as though they’re being dragged along the ground while walking across the dry and somber landscape the tune paints a picture of… Garcia seems to stroll through a low lying garden of sound searching for the note that best represents the collective soul of the entire experience like someone might search for a 4 leafed clover… As he riffs through a multitude of choices he finds the one that speaks most clearly to him and, as a result, all of us as well… He picks the note from the garden as he sees fit and pulls the string with all he’s got unleashing this enormous wave of emotion infused in a Psychedelic Blues that seems to wrap around the entire venue, instantly pulling from every direction all attention, emotion and everything significant at that moment in time back into himself… As Garcia’s notes get higher, Phil’s get increasingly lower seemingly acting as cushions that carry Garcia’s notes into the stratosphere by way of our hearts. All attention, regardless of how scattered, instantly returns to the stage where Garcia is firmly planted like a Mighty Oak. As his glasses slide lower down his nose his eyebrows rise higher up his face as the sound of all of us getting hit with something so heavy, all at the same time, creates this spiraling tornado of applause and acknowledgement that pops the lid off of our collective consciousness as our eyes lock with strangers off in the distance having the exact same experience and uniting us instantly, Soul to Soul, with people 20 or more yards away… It was like finding a lost family member in a sea of people as we became indelibly marked to that moment and experience together in time forever, in a way only someone that was there could possibly understand… As we swelter in the desert heat having our minds stretched like hot gum pulled from the pavement, Garcia stands there cooler than a Snowman screwing an Ice Princess… Because he and he alone had that kind of Soul… Nobody else… Nobody… It’s hard to describe the way those moments removed the thorns from our own thoughts and lives but they absolutely did…

Yup, That shit isn’t happening again regardless of who’s playing guitar. Those are the moments that the most skilled of mimickers can’t recreate on their best days. It’s the reason why the music will never really go Further because Further would typically imply deeper, better, more meaningful. The music can continue and move on and be respected and honored but I’m not sure it can ever really go “Further” if indeed that’s what Further would imply.

In hilarious news, it was reported that Pay Per View options would be available for the Fare Thee Well Shows, more or less insuring theaters would be as empty as the Bottle Garcia sings about in Ship Of Fools. Even funnier was a Pre Sale for Pay Per View Broadcasts. That’s about as necessary as more Grateful Dead cover bands in Chicago 4th of July Weekend. Either way, everybody is going to get all The Dead they can possibly handle. That’s probably a good thing…

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Gratefully Deadicated,

Dean So Tilly