Tag Archives: Phil Lesh

DJMerri

Yesterday started off just like any another day that’s ever been… I headed out in the morning without realizing where the day would take me. Then I got hit by the same Bus that hit me so many times in the past. I looked online and saw all of the posts from the folks heading to Dear Jerry. Something started churning… With little to no warning I cancelled every responsibility for the day, put a sign on the door that said, “Gone Fishing”, jumped in my car and hit 95 South like an old school fugitive. After living an extremely responsible life for the passed 20 years, it felt as exhilarating as I remembered it being in The Summer of ’89. The logical part of me tried like hell to implant all kinds of thoughts in my mind to remove the adrenaline from my body and replace it with every doubt and fear imaginable. The little voice that says, “It’s Sold Out”, “What if you drive 4 hours and don’t get a ticket?”, “It’s not too late to just turn around and continue with the day that’s just like any other day… Ever been…”

Then the side of my brain that holds the memories of times gone by, the one that was created in large part by my years on the road with The Dead completely and totally kicked in. I just wrote a piece 2 days ago about just showing up where the magic is happening and KNOWING some of it is DEFINITELY going to happen to YOU! The human brain contains 10 times more emotional centers than Logic based centers. That’s a big part of the reason why over the years we’ve abandoned all logical choices regarding life to follow The Dead. My emotional neurology is Dead to the Core! Most likely, yours is too. The Grateful Dead are embedded into my emotional neurology so much that I’m certain my grey matter is actually half red, half blue, 13 point bolt dividing them. I took my own advice and began envisioning myself in some of the best seats in the house. I looked on TicketFly and saw that a bunch of seats in the back of the pavilion were being released. I thought about buying one but my expectations and my vision was for something MUCH better.

I arrived at Merriweather Post 4 hours later and began strolling through the lot. To honor Garcia I wore a black pocket T which caused people to think I was a cop. Get a haircut and wear a plain black T Shirt and people start hiding shit when you walk by. After about an hour, I scored a VIP Package in the lot for about 1/3rd of what it sold for originally. I didn’t know it at the time but it turned out to be one of the best seats in the entire venue, the first row of the elevated section about 10 rows from the stage!
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On with the show!!! Since the night was packed with so many artists, I’m just going to point out the highlights of the night for me personally. At 7:00 on the dot Phil came out with his band. Phil’s son is a great guitarist and growing more every month. I think he’s outstanding! That was the last anybody saw of Phil… Seems a bit egocentric if you ask me. Maybe he had something else to do. That’s all I’m gonna say…
Allen Toussaint absolutely KILLED it with a JGB rocker, Get Out Of My Life Woman. The crowd was absolutely supercharged for the massive evening ahead of us. Grisman did what Grisman does and was extremely Grisman! Peter Frampton, who seemed most like the crayon that might not belong in the box, hit it out of the park with Roadrunner building on the momentum of the show. Buddy Miller’s Deal was outstanding and you could get the feeling that this night was gonna be MUCH better than expected. Jorma’s Sugaree was exactly what you’d expect from Jorma. It was Jormaee…

At this point in the evening, I made an incredible observation. As the people in the crowd have gotten fatter over the years, their doobies have gotten equally skinnier. I saw my pal, J**p*r light up a doobie in the parking lot that looked like the toilet paper roll when it only has a single wrap of paper left on it but other than that, people’s Fatties have gotten awfully skinny. I don’t smoke myself, as a matter of fact, I kicked drugs and alcohol after having a habit similar to Garcia’s and have been totally drug and alcohol free 22 years as of TODAY!!! Happy to be alive… Yup, my anniversary! Back to the show…

The biggest ovation of the evening belonged to Jimmy Cliff! The crowd went wild for The Reggae Rocker and he absolutely backed it up with “The Harder They Come”. We were dancing our collective asses off and those moments started happening, when in the middle of your music induced frenzy, limbs joyfully flying through the air, you catch the smiles and flashing moments of eye contact with strangers around you that seem to fill the venue with the kind of Love that only sharing in the music can provide. Weir came out and along with Bill and Mickey joined Jimmy Cliff for a Fire On The Mountain that was raging!! Where was Phil? That’s all I’m gonna say… An OUTSTANDING first set that provided MUCH more than I went into the night expecting.

After an extremely brief intermission, Billy and the Kids took the stage. If you have a chance, GO AND SEE Billy and The Kids! They ripped through Help->Slip>Franklin’s with a the kind of enthusiasm that is rarely found among Dead Projects. Bill seems to have this abundance of new life as of late and played more of a role in the evening than anybody. Truly one of the best moments of the night!

I don’t listen to all of the bands that are considered “Jam Bands” out there so I don’t have much experience with the Disco Biscuits, nor do I have much experience with the Military, but I can tell ya this, the one brother came out dressed like a Para Trooper or some kinda shit. Those brothers absolutely blew the lid off of the place with a Scarlet->Rider that was, for me, the best performance of the night. The jams were as incredible as the absolute commitment displayed by them as they blasted through it with the kind of passion and intensity that has made me want to experience much more of what they’ve got. It was an IMMENSE moment and would’ve been a much more appropriate way to close the set than to be at the beginning of it!

Everybody was tremendous but the show from that point on slowed down considerably. The last hour of the night should have really been towards the beginning or the middle. Brent used to sing, “Never trust a woman that wears her pants too tight.” He wouldn’t have trusted Grace Potter for a second. She came out with some seal colored stretch pants and if I was gonna say anything, it would only be, “Dat Ass!”(there’s probably a more fashionable word for pants that are the same color as a seal) She looked as delicious as ice cream in August. When she came out, Weir kissed her right on the lips as if to say, “Who’s the man still, bitches?!?!” What a gorgeous and talented woman. You could tell she cherished the moment. Weir looks really good and healthy. He was as expressive and as animated as I’ve ever seen him. Like I said, I thought the acts that made up the end of the show were much better suited to be somewhere in the middle of it. The real juice of the show seemed to be all placed right in the middle of it.

Then for my favorite song of all time, Morning Dew, out comes Widespread Panic. I know they have a pretty big following. I’ve always loved Jimmy Herring and Dave Schools is a bad ass bass player that looks like he comes from the same gene pool as Shrek. The bass looks like a Ukulele on him. He can play the hell out of it though. Then as the song began, the worst sounding voice in the history of the world starting singing this beautiful masterpiece. How the hell do Panic fans listen to that for hours??? It was a cross between Julia Child and Hell, if Hell had a voice. I mean, he makes Phil sound like Pavarotti. When I say he KILLED the Dew, I mean like a squirrel getting run over by a truck. I Love all my Spread Head friends out there, God Bless all y’all, but I hope I never have to hear that man sing ever again. The music that accompanied it was outstanding…

Then for Weir, Bill and Mickey closing out the evening with Touch of Grey. Where was Phil? That’s all I’m gonna say about that… MSG Walk of Fame this week. Where was Phil? He’s got a place in NYC. That’s all I’m gonna say about that… The encore and Finale was one of the most enduring tunes in Grateful Dead history, Ripple. It was beautiful to see everybody out there together as we all sang Ripple, Except for Phil. Where was he? That’s all I’m gonna say about that… Clearly 3 of our favorite musicians are on the same page!

All that being said, it was an evening that far exceeded my expectations. It moved along brilliantly and the performances were inspired and filled with all the joy the memory of Jerry Garcia provides. Even with number of tunes that were played, you can think of so many that were left out, reminding you not only of the genius that was Jerry but how vast his musical repertoire is. You know who really sounded a lot like Garcia? Who was able to stay just half a step behind everybody else and somehow still surpass everyone in the process? The one guy that created his own pocket to sing in and placed the lyric fractionally behind all expectation to keep the music from getting too far ahead of it while making it look absolutely effortless? Absolutely Nobody… What came natural as breathing to Garcia has never been replicated. No matter how many try they are always forced by the notes they’re playing to either jump ahead of the moment or, while trying too hard, get stuck behind it. It’s the magic that only one guy possessed and it was an incredibly special night to be a part of.

Remember my friends, put yourself in a position to have something magical happen for you and, often times, it certainly does…

Keep an eye out for my article on the New York Times article! That’s gonna be fun!

Gratefully Deadicated,

Dean Sottile (pronounced So Tilly)

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)
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