Tag Archives: Fare Thee Well

SAN FRANCISC, UNITED STATES – JANUARY 31: Jerry Garcia performing at the Warfield Theater in San Francisco on January 31, 1991. (Photo by Clayton Call/Redferns)

Been looking for The Silver Lining but this one seems all Grey
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 loss through years of mourning that has 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
Trying to recapture moments from the memories in my head
I can’t believe 24 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 my ears still long to hear
Your sound is irreplaceable yet we try to turn the page
Where softly grows the silent fire that leads to Tears of Rage
Days are still found dazing in The Days that Lie Between
Thoughts churn in our minds yet we can’t figure out 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’
When moments of intense clarity seemed 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 Terrapin to Mission in The Rain
We’ll cherish what you gave us, Jerry, until we meet again…

Dead To The Core,
Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)

Grateful Dean Logo 2

It was almost one year ago that The Official Home of Unofficial Grateful Dead and Music News was born. Almost an entire year since the ride of our lives began to take flight once again. It feels like WAY more time has gone by since then based on the amount of things that have happened for all of US. Here’s a look back at the beginning of it all. Our first GD 50 related post that kicked it all off. Enjoy!

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

The Interwebs are aglow this week after sparks of a Grateful Dead 50th Anniversary Tour or set of shows were just looking for enough gasoline to create a fire. It seems as though the rumors were once again given the traction they needed when unofficial Grateful Dead writer, Scott Allen, was the first on the scene pretending to know something about the future. Scott, whose most recent publication, AB2B has sold nearly 2,000 copies, reported last year from The Capitol Theater, in Port Chester, NY, that Phil was the last member of the Band to sign a contract agreeing to play The Lockn’ Festival for the reunion. Interestingly enough, Lockn tickets were scheduled to go on sale within weeks. Apparently the talk backstage that night involved drummer, Joe Russo, saying to some of the guys after meeting a middle aged female fan, “I’ll be Lockin that ass in my room later.”

It’s also been rumored that Scott is receiving a five figure salary from the Grand Poobah of today’s psychedelic scene, Peter Shapiro, for sniffing the strychnine and Metamucil farts out of the seats in the balcony following Phil and Friends’ performances. To Furthur accelerate the anticipation of things to come, Bob Weir was overheard at one of Sammy Hagar’s holiday parties saying, “If she asks me to do one more damn project around the house, I’m going back on the road. Doesn’t she know I’m Bob fuckin’ Weir?”

In his most recent post, the anniversary shows are now headed to Soldier Field in Chicago on 4th of July weekend and will feature a longtime fan favorite on guitar, Ginger from Gilligan’s Island.

As the reports began to spread faster than venereal diseases at Rainbow Gatherings, social network moderators policing the band’s devout fan base were attempting to calm the insanity and maintain some semblance of order. It seems as though the rumor mill turned into a ferris wheel regarding the guitarist that would sit in with the band. The word on the street is that guitar players will be rotating through the band quicker than blowjobs in the 80s.

While everybody began to know somebody that knows somebody it seems as though nobody knows anybody including this somebody. When I attempted to contact Bill Kreutzmann regarding the rumors he answered briefly by saying, “Who the fuck are you and how did you get my number? Go Fuck yourself you nobody, I’m Bill Kreutzmann DAMMIT!!!”

I attempted to reach Mickey as well but his representatives told me he was putting an end to global hunger through drumming or some kind of shit like that. When I asked if she could be more specific she replied, “Sure, call back after you go fuck yourself.”

The news created a shakeup on Wall Street as cheese futures made a dramatic upturn. When asked why he failed to get on board, Warren Buffett, no relation to Jimmy, stated he was unsure of the “juice” the Core 4 had within the jamming community and feared that aging fans most likely developed varying sensitivities to products containing lactose. Sales of Coleman camping stoves rose in direct proportion to cheese futures.

Problems continue to circulate about insurance policies which seems to be a wonderful scapegoat for what promises to be high dollar tickets. A large portion of the fan base, still living in their now deceased parents’ basements and wearing the same concert T they purchased at Barton Hall in ’77 call this move “unkind.” They also find it totally uncool that their Barton Hall shirt can now be purchased new at Walmart for under $8. When Phil was asked about ticket prices he replied, “Brutha gotta eat! And Jill don’t wear no Payless shoes, you hear me, homie?!”

With all the guessing and speculation, only one thing is certain, Phish fan and rail rider, Antelope Greg is already waiting on line to get in as we speak. Three elderly women and a maintenance worker have been elbowed already for infringing on his “space.”

Highly opinionated Dead Heads are calling for the death of anyone who attempts to even think about playing guitar. Bob is… still resting. Phil continues to give his donor rap to the exact same 1,800 people for the past decade. Internet message board police are removing antagonistic members quicker than Lindane shampoo removes pubic lice and me, Dean Sottile, I don’t know shit. The only member of the entire fan base to readily admit, I have no connections at all. Not a single damn one.

Stay Grateful My Friends… Love You Forever!!!

Sincerely,
Dean Sottile
Scott Allen’s Unofficial Biographer