Tag Archives: DEAD 50

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In hopes of moving the learning curve ahead a little more rapidly, it’s been rumored that somebody in the Inner Circle dosed John Mayer’s cookies and milk prior to rehearsals this week. Having grown up in the “Bath Salts” Generation, John was a virgin to LSD. About an hour after puddling some of the Family crystal wash into Mayer’s afternoon snack, things began changing rapidly. What began as John’s strings feeling a little bit sticky ultimately turned into his entire guitar becoming a giant slug, according to sources. As things began to unfold, Billy was treated for severe abdominal cramps due to excessive laughter. It was a long and educational day with a spiritually cleansing result. The details have been hazy as reported from people further toward the outside of the insiders.

Apparently, while going over some songs, the LSD that an unknown individual named Billy, slipped into John’s snack began to come on stronger than initially expected. While making a few runs through Bob’s “Looks Like Rain”, apparently Mayer began crying and feeling as though it was mandatory for him to do love to Katy. Katy, who shared the cookies and milk with John, was feeling nervous as her stomach was churning like a bag of kittens in a washing machine for reasons she couldn’t understand. There was a sense of nervousness that had come over them both simultaneously. Her and John ran off but while attempting to make love, Mayer, a little too filled with acid, could only get hard in the middle. It looked like a garter snake swallowed a mouse. They both felt a little confused and decided to try to paint instead. On their way to purchase painting supplies, they purchased thousands of dollars of absolute and unrelated shit that appeared really beautiful at the moment. They were struck by an intense desire to walk on grass and headed to a park they saw in the distance. They found liberating conversation regarding the variety of animals that were all created for special and significant reasons and for a brief moment in time, had each one’s purpose completely figured out within the grand scheme of life on the planet. They hoped to remember all of this forever but forgot everything the minute they realized how completely green the grass was. Their combined discovery of every small item, seemingly overlooked for their entire lives up to this point, had them in a state of toddler like excitement at the planet around them.

It was reported that John came across an orange and was compelled to care for it like it was a baby bird. He felt the balanced and nutrient dense energy of the living food had summoned him to be a paternal force in the life experience of the fabled fruit. It was at this point the trip turned to unexpected places. While lying on his stomach in the park, a worm crawled into his visual field. His mind turned back to Pink Floyd’s The Wall Album as the worm quickly became a powerful judge within his spun mind. He sat before a Court of his peers and flashed back to his interview in Playboy Magazine. As the files in his brain began feeding him the contents of the interview, John saw himself in The Court. He began to realize as he revisited the contents of his interview that in all reality, he was a complete dickhead. He couldn’t remove the self image that was placed before him and etched in his hallucinating mind.
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He spent an hour or two in a bathroom inside of a Starbucks location to reflect on his past ills and sat before the jury in his mind nervously awaiting a verdict. Time nearly stood still as he sat repentant in a stall. His mind forced him to repetitively review his past transgressions until a loud knock came on the door scaring the living shit out of him. His meekly said to the door, “I’ll be right out…” He looked in the mirror, frightened and somewhat alarmed about his state of mind as well as his grayish green skin color. As he exited he tried hard to make eye contact with nobody and begged whatever listening deity exists in his world that he wouldn’t be noticed by anyone in his scrambled state. As he walked briskly down the street, the sun shone brightly on his face and he felt the release of the tension within his Soul as he realized he was as free as he chose to be regarding his past attitudes and ill ideas. A sense of relief came over him as he began hearing Althea play in his head. Even the thought of the sound of Garcia’s voice in his imagination seemed to cover of him with a profound sense of comfort. He reached for his phone that he totally forgot he had for the past 5 hours and put on the Althea that started this entire experience. The sound of the familiar lick that hooked him in the first place, along with the tone and delivery of Jerry’s vocal took his rough and weathered brain and cosmically embraced it. His entire being was totally engulfed in the sound that couldn’t be found prior to his initial Dead Dream. He saw each day of his life since that moment as if they were all recorded on pages in a book. The gentle breeze that blew began turning each and every page in a manner that was so orderly and perfectly paced that he believed the breeze had to be sent from a mystical place that was perfectly designed to turn pages in the book of memories that people keep. He smiled on the inside as he recognized the serendipity of it all. He felt deeply at peace as he came to the conclusion that he faced the scrutiny of the Acid Test and passed through to the other side. His Soul was purified and purged of its past iniquities and was born again anew to fill a role that was predestined for him ages ago in the vast ether of the unknown substance from which all life emanates.

Then out of nowhere, he remembered where the whole day began and immediately picked up his pace to return to the sessions that are preparing him for the task ahead with Dead and Company. He thought to himself, remarkably detached from any sense of guilt or worry, “I wonder where the fuck Katy is???” Since there was a deep internal knowing that she was experiencing whatever it was she was supposed to experience, he headed back to the rehearsals as a brand new creation. He understood the connection to his internal voice and the sense of complete surrender to its call. He understood that he didn’t need to know exactly what was up in order to know that, whatever was up was exactly what was supposed to be up. With a newly installed sense of psychedelic intuition and certainty he immediately returned to his inherent state of self confidence and strength. As he returned to the practice location, Katy was there blowing Bubbles and drinking Champagne. It didn’t bother John, even though Bubbles is one of the Crew members… He strapped on his guitar and found himself totally immersed in the sonic experience like never before. He was playing with his entire being and could feel the dramatic shifts in environmental energy in the various parts of each song. He was recognizing that the music made from the remaining members of The Grateful Dead actually goes deeper than the magma of the earth and further out than the most remote stars known to man. He has officially come on board for life’s greatest musically journey to a place reserved for those capable of breathing in the rarified air that circulates around the core of The Dead. His place was determined long ago from beyond the great unknown horizon of destiny to take his place amongst the legends assembled as Dead and Company. Those that have been harsh, you can all stop hating him now as he clearly was chosen by the guy in the sky to be part of all of this since the beginning of creation. I don’t know if any of this story is true but if it is, He has passed the Test with flying colors. While the rehearsal videos absolutely wreak of the aroma of mediocrity, they don’t include the most important ingredient, US. Don’t get me wrong, I believe by show time, this group of guys will be OUTSTANDING! I just wasn’t overwhelmed by the possibly premature previews. I’m certain by the time Albany comes around, the fragrance will definitely be one of unequalled excellence in spontaneous creation and development of fantastic flavors of sound. John is merely at the very beginning of one of the most fulfilling journeys this abundantly talented individual will ever take. We will take it alongside of him as brothers and sisters in the greatest musical family every assembled on planet earth, US!!!!

Countdown to kickoff y’all!!! See ya in a few!

Dead To The Core,

Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)

Garciainshades

The Days Between during Jerry Week have been full of incredibly mixed emotions that reside on completely opposite ends of the psychological spectrum for 20 years now. We all get out as much as we can and listen to other musicians honor the one that we collectively honor most. While there are many out there that have made a great life for themselves paying tribute to Garcia, and I enjoy hearing them, they all fall flat for me emotionally. Every single one of them… No exceptions… While plenty of people have learned to play the notes, Garcia was so much more than his notes. Many have had Luthiers craft equipment at great expense to duplicate his sound, yet his sound remains unduplicated. People have created guitars made of the same wood, same hardware, same shape, same everything… Ultimately the body that matters most doesn’t belong to the guitar but the individual that it’s strapped against. The sound that’s created really begins in the Soul of the one who plays it, somewhere well below, or above, the surface. A place that doesn’t succumb to the influence of the intellect but, when used properly, utilizes the intellect as a servant to the sound within them instead of the other way around. Nobody can practice that and it can’t be copied. Those that have learned to play like Garcia utilized the intellect attempting to learn or decipher what came from the Soul of Garcia. While entertaining, it will always be missing the most vital component of the entire process… The heart through which it originally came… Those of us that were fortunate enough to exist and experience Garcia experienced a gift that was given out only once in history. The gift that was Garcia has enabled generations of artists to feed their families by providing people with a small glimpse into what the experience was like. I appreciate their efforts…

Unfortunately, there’s too many things that just can’t be copied… You know who can walk into a room in sweat pants and some orthopedic shoes and be the baddest brother in the room? Only Garcia… You know who could completely alter the vibrational character and temperature of a place just by stepping into it and do so powerfully enough that you could sense it even if your back was turned? Only Garcia… You know who can sing a line about getting across a River with the depth of emotion and expression of someone that seems to know that everything that’s great and true in life is on the other side of that lazy river? You know who can pull that off with the sincerity of Mother Teresa talking about the poor? Only Garcia… You know who can wear a Members Only jacket to Disney World on a 95 degree day and still be the coolest cat in the whole damn park??? Only Garcia… You know who can get deep into a solo, hitting tons of notes and keep coming across a familiar one while passing through all of them again and again, like somebody looking through a bag of keys, until he finally pulls that familiar note out of the mix and grabs onto it like a Magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat as he takes the note that seemed to be hiding and blasts it on full display and glory for the world to hear? Only Garcia… You know who could stand totally unmoved while a hurricane of sound spun around him furiously and be completely uninfluenced or pressured by it in any way, like an anchor that holds a mighty ship in place during the most ferocious of storms? Only Garcia… You know who had an innately gifted internal metronome that kept a time that only he could keep, just a fragment behind conventional expectation, and could elaborately decorate with his strings a musical platform from which his impending lyric would be presented upon? Only Garcia… You know who could reach me, personally, with all of it causing intense introspection and development, breaking down walls that could no longer stand if I was to become who and what I was called to become in this life, opening doors for the gifts to come shining through and be expressed and doing it all without even trying? Only Garcia…

I understand the challenges in different ways of different art forms much the same way. I understand, through writing, that I hope to help many of US say what we would say if we only knew how to say it. Robert Hunter has done that for all of US for a long time… While I’m well aware that I’m not worthy of sharpening pencils for people like Robert Hunter or the late great, Hunter S. Thompson, I still have to give it my sincerest efforts. I usually don’t like anything I write while I’m writing it because the bar that’s set before us is much too high to think of getting close to, let alone over. Often times, the things I think of throwing out altogether end up being the most popular things. The things I like most usually fall flat… That being said, in The Days Between I share with you one of my favorite pieces(uh Oh), Looking For The Silver Lining…

Been looking for The Silver Lining but this one seems all gray
Nothing’s been the same since the night you went away
The Story Teller makes no choice, that’s what you always said
It’s funny that we all found Life amongst The Grateful Dead
The wrinkled eyes of Heaven know this day as if by heart
The tears through years of mourning that have torn our world apart
You’re the one that brought The Treasure and Grabbed Magic from the air
Everyone craved The Golden Eggs but The Goose that left them there
The blistered hands of time still turn the Crank that runs The Wheel
The cards all come back empty every time we get The Deal
Mercy wrote a letter, sent to Death by Standard Mail
The message came back, “Sorry but No Mercy is for Sale”
My face is callused from the salted water my Eyes have shed
I can’t get back to Tennessee and can’t find my friend Jed
I can’t believe twenty have passed since your Graduation Day
Still broken vans with broken plans like dogs that went astray
Another Summer passes by another Winter Near
And there remains the lullaby our ears still long to hear
Your tone preserved in ones and zeros, we turn another page
Where softly grows the silent fire that turns to full grown rage
Days are still found Dazing in The Days that Lie Between
And thoughts churn in our minds yet we can’t figure what they mean
To hear a few more notes from you would cure this inward drought
In the spaces in between each one We figured the whole thing out
My thoughts and days are like the style of playing you were usin’
Moments of intense clarity seem to arise from complete confusion
In my head, I see your frame, your chin pinned to your chest
Like you’re looking into your own heart and pulling out what’s best
I vividly hear the music build like champagne when you shake it
You took your time getting to the Mic we all wondered if you’d make it
But just as Springtime turns to Heat and Heat then turns to Cold
The only place we find Silver now is where there once was gold
With thoughts of you that never die and No replacement near
We celebrate the life you gave to all of US every year
Your Soulful Sound to China Cats to Mission in The Rain
We’ll cherish what you gave to US until we meet again…

Love y’all! See ya out there somewhere soon… I’m writing from a somewhat broken place today… I imagine that might show…

Dead To The Core,

Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)