Dead Therapy - the last RFK

Morning, Freaks!

Aloha, Shalom, Cheers and all that good shit!  It’s been a long time since we’ve talked, huh? I hope you’re well. Quite sincerely, I do. Just took some time off and kind of forgot about the world for a few minutes, caught up in my own life, some new friends, one of them a very close one,  and life’s roller coaster of twists and turns. Been spending most of my time just working, gardening and basking in the sunlight that is a South Carolina summer. Honestly, it’s hot as fuck down here. When you go outside, it feels like you threw a wet blanket on your back. Well a bunch of you are on the road at present. Both the Phish and the Panic are off and running. WSP is burning down Red Rocks this weekend and the Phish are beating up the Northeast, slowly making their way south and leaving a bloody pulp of smiles and awe in their wake. I can tell you that I haven’t been this excited about a Phish tour in many, many, many years…. the tapes don’t lie…I’m expecting straight heat by the time those fools get to Charlotte. They’re connecting….not ’97 connecting, but Trey’s good health and fervor are leading the way to great things. The Panic has been on a short Spring break, but they should bring the fire to The Rocks this weekend. They, too, are a brand new invigorated pack of wolves, with a new album taboot…that ain’t half bad. With every tour, Father Time (Jimmy Herring) melds more and more, taking the band to new places. I won’t say new heights, but I will say new places.  So to y’all, that are out on the road like a caravan of vagabond gypsies with the same common interest of sweet summer sunshine, good times and the chase for that rare musical epicness, please be careful. Don’t hesitate to enjoy yourselves…you deserve it. Text me setlists and pictures of your dilapidated smiling asses from near and far, and whatever you do, don’t call me for bail.

A bunch of you know I grew up in the metropolis of Chester, VA. Most of you know it because it is located right beside Enon…another metropolis, and absolute braintrust of intellectuals. I sense sarcasm. Correct. Enon and Chester have never really been know for kicking out rocket surgeons into society, or been a real hotbed for world leaders, generous philanthropists, world renowned artists and thinktank of academics,  and the sort, but worry not, one thing we do know is that the twin cities know how to party, possibly like nowhere else I’ve ever been and know great music. Ne’er a day passed when I wouldn’t leave my j.o.b. at the local Subway sandwich shop (I was a sandwich artist, you know), take a bong hit out of the V05 shampoo bottle bong that we hid on the top shelf over the slicer near the three compartment sink, blow the smoke into the walk in freezer, get in my beat up 280zx and head off to the park to a virtual rodeo of camaros and mustangs, 4 wheel drives and girls showing a lot of skin, joints, brown liquor,  and Milwaukee’s Best flying around the circle so fast, it didn’t matter if you caught it this round, because there was certain to be another directly behind it. If you needed a break for a minute, you took a break. Nobody scoffed. There were cool kids, cheerleaders and football players, band geeks and german club presidents, squares, sluts, heads, future lawyers and future prisoners  all in one place at one time, partying and enjoying each other’s company. There was safety in numbers and this park was off the beaten track, down a twist and turn of roads that I couldn’t find now if my life depended on it. Shit, I could barely find it then. Car Stereos cranking Zep, the Sabbath, Halen, the Floyd, and our beloved Grateful Dead. You ever see the movie Dazed and Confused? Yeah?….well that movie was based on Enon. The foosball parlor? Chester….Party at the Moontower? Enon. Marijuana on One, Reefer on Two…and all that good shit. I wouldn’t change a thing. The only time the park really shut down its party was when the Dead came to town. Chee-non is in kind of a central location for the Dead concert season….easy to hit RFK, Jerryweather, and Cap Center to the North, The Spaceship to the East, Carter Finley and Raleighwood to the South. So, when they were in town, the party moved.

 Well today marks the anniversary of another special show I attended with someone who is very dear to me…my lil bro. Kid has been a rock for me over the years. When I need someone to lean on, he’s not far away. At least, I’m pretty sure I attended it with him. That decade is a little foggy for me. I can’t imagine why. Typically, ‘90’s shows weren’t a whole lot to write home about. Mostly junk…midi and teleprompters, with an occasional spark of inspiration and genius. Bobby pushed hard on the band as its makeshift engineer in Jerry’s mental absence and drug haze, but couldn’t be the engine for his road weary aging teammates in his Op shorts and tanktop uniforms, and at this time, core with some subs (they tried real hard, but didn’t quite have the allotted play time needed to connect to the real vibe of what had made this band greatness. They couldn’t quite find the heart. It wasn’t their fault, though. It was timing.) I remember when we first heard the rumor from the road that Vince was going to be the new “keys guy”. First, were like who the fuck is that? Is that guy from the “She’s a Beauty” band? Anyway, cool video. You remember…the creepy fun house video. (  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQ_k_VG6Syc ) Lots of nip slips in that thing, huh? YAAAYYYYYY, MTV!! So, anyway Vince turned out to be a really cool guy and fit in well with the family, like when your sister brings her new boyfriend to his first family reunion at your parents house and he’s the one that pulls you aside and asks you if you want to smoke a joint. He brought wonderful new jazzy harmonies to the band and some unique tune penning. His addition is clear in the following show with its double jointed second set opener of BOX>RAIN, then SAMBA later in the set.

This show wasn’t brilliant by any means…but, it was better than ok. Little did we know, it would  the last time the Dead would play RFK. A stadium that historically they had completely destroyed. See 6/9/73 and 6/20/92. Tell me what band can do a stadium tour every year and sell out two nights in a row…..that’s right, you can’t name one. The ’92 Shenandoah space quite possibly may  have been the most beautiful pieces of art I ever heard the Dead play live, especially when the train airhorn blasted and banged into a phenomenally rare 90’s St. Steve. It was always scorching at the summer RFK shows. The lot felt like home to me, the thick hot smell of patchouli, kind bud and B.O., naked sundrenched bodies taking showers in the lot at the provided makeshift showers, the colorful sea of tents, VW buses, smiles, lots of smiles, and the drum circles under the bridge will forever be etched in the attics of my mind. At points, they were magical. If you were there, you know what I’m talking about. There was something about the echo and reverb of the drums bouncing off the cool steel of the bridge, while we stood on the big round rocks of the river in the cool shade. There was none of this puppy pulling, nitrous mafia, flat brimmed bullshit there is today. Sometimes I just want to kick those dumbasses right in the face. Maybe I just need to shake them and say “Don’t you get it?” Maybe I just need to love them, like my yoga practice would dictate. I know…Whatever, Hippy. The scene was centered around the music, not the drugs, and it was good. On this night, we were expecting rain…and rain it did. It thundered, it lighteninged, it poured….and we boogied our asses off, me and Mattu. Rain or shine…we dance. The band rewarded us with the rain theme in the second set. They let us know that they were thankful for our devotion. It was BIG and it was GRAND and it HAPPENED and we were THERE.

I’m not gonna hit you with a bunch of show notes today. Well, only one…I think Jerry’s voice is super cool on Rollin’ & Tumblin’…and it’s a rare tune. Also check out the jazz/midi horn parts in the Shakedown opener. It’s fabulous!

Get yourself a tea and cop a squat. Plug ‘n play here:

http://www.archive.org/details/gd95-06-25.sbd.2236.sbefail.shnf

06-25-95 Robert F. Kennedy Stadium, Washington, D.C. (Sun)

1: Shakedown, Wang Dang Doodle, Jack A Roe*, Mama Tried@*> Mexicali@*, Loose Lucy, Picasso Moon*

2: Box Of Rain, Rain, Samson, Ship Of Fools*, Truckin> Rollin & Tumblin*> Samba> Drumz> Wharf Rat*> NFA E: Brokedown*

*final version with Bruce Hornsby on grand piano - Bob Dylan opened - soundcheck: “St. Stephen” - Jerry Garcia played on “Train To Cry” and “Rainy Day Women” of Bob Dylan’s set

See you all at the Phish in the ATL on JULY 4^th…AMERICA, FUCK, YEAH!!!

You guys mean everything to me. Wherever this weekend finds you, may it be safe and exactly what you were looking for.

Enjoy! And thanks for coming with me to therapy today.

m-