Tag: bob weir

Rest in Peace Bob Weir (1947-2026)

Earlier this afternoon I was watching a movie. When it was over, I looked at my phone. There were messages from friends from all over the country. They were all saying something like, “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Bob Weir has passed.”

I didn’t know what to say. Now I don’t know what to write. I’m still processing the news. 

I first listened to the Grateful Dead in high school. I bought Skeletons From the Closet – a collection of their “greatest hits” from one of those Columbia House deals where you got 12 CDs for a penny or some such thing. I liked quite a lot of it, but found some of it to be a bit weird (strangely, I absolutely loved “Rosemary” one of the most un-Dead like things they ever recorded.)

But I didn’t venture any farther than that until college. I had a buddy who had a handful of shows he’d recorded off a guy he knew in high school whose brother was a collector (the kid would allow him to tape one show every time my friend would take him to McDonald’s for lunch.) He’d play those tapes loud while we were driving around Montgomery, Alabama, and I totally dug it (I also thought the idea of these unofficially released tapes was just the coolest.)

From there I bought American Beauty, and I’ve been on the bus ever since.

In 1994 the Dead came to Birmingham, and my friend asked me if I wanted to go with him. The tickets were like $30 (!), which I thought was way too expensive for my budget, so I figured I’d catch them the next time they came around. Obviously, they never did come around again for the next year Jerry was dead.

I did get to see Bob Weir in various bands over the years and always loved the shows. The last time I got to see him was on the Americanarama tour in Nashville. That was the time Bob Dylan toured around with bands like Wilco and My Morning Jacket. Weir did just a few gigs with them as a solo artist. Before that show, we were all standing around outside the gate, waiting for them to open it. It was an outdoor venue, and the fence keeping us out wasn’t very high.

Suddenly I hear a familiar sound. I’d know Bob Weir’s guitar sound anywhere. Sure enough, I peek over the fence, and there he is, standing all by his lonesome on stage with his guitar. It was a soundcheck, and I could hear him clear as day. He ran through several songs, including a great version of Dylan’s “Most of the Time.”  

People all around me were chatting and paying no attention. I kept giving them glares and quietly telling them all to shut up. Didn’t they know one of the greats was on stage giving us a little private concert?

I was enthralled. And Bob wasn’t just going through the motions; he was really playing and singing those songs. He was always the consummate musician. Later that night he joined Wilco for a rousing version of “Bird Song” and an incredible cover of The Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows.”

I had tickets to see him with Dead & Co. in Texas for their “final tour” but I got sick and couldn’t go.

I’m rambling now. Like I said, I’m still processing this loss. I’ve loved The Grateful Dead and Bob Weir for longer than I’ve lost just about anything else. If there is any comfort in this, it is that his music will live on without him. Those songs are timeless. And the fact that so many of his shows were recorded means we can still be listening to them for decades to come.

I’m not good at knowing what my favorite performances of anything are. So I don’t have a list of Bob Weir’s greatest moments.  But someone mentioned this performance of “Greatest Story Ever Told” and by god it is a good one.

Phil Lesh in Oklahoma City, 2001

I graduated from college with a Bachelor of Science in English. The plan was to get a Masters Degree and then a Ph.D. and become a professor of literature at some college. After a single semester of graduate school, I realized I was exhausted, tired of living in libraries, tired of taking tests, writing papers, and the entire educational system. I decided to take a year off and then I could start fresh again.

A quarter of a century later, I still haven’t returned to school.

For a few years after that disastrous semester, I worked a lot of odd jobs and moved to various cities across the country. Whenever I was between jobs I often went home to Oklahoma and worked with my Dad. The summer of 2001 was one such period.

When I heard Phil Lesh was coming to Oklahoma City I immediately bought tickets. The day came and I printed out my driving instructions from MapQuest, making sure to highlight the major turns because it’s a bugger trying to make sense of those things while speeding down the highway.

As far as I could tell the Zoo Amphitheater didn’t have any real parking. Outside the venue was a large grassy area with lots of trees and a few little roadways passing through it. Everyone seemed to be parking there. Rather haphazardly I thought. I found me a space and walked through the lot scene. I didn’t stop for a Kind Veggie Burrito or any tie-dyed shirts. This was a general admission show and I wanted to secure a good spot.

The Amphitheater is a smallish venue. It sits on a small hill with the stage at the bottom. There were no seats but periodically some cut, rectangular stones had been dug into the ground creating a sort of spaced-out step system. I hadn’t brought any chair or a blanket to sit on so I found one of those stones close to the stage and sat myself down.

This was July in Oklahoma and it was hot. Damn hot. I was already covered in sweat. The grass that originally had covered the ground had long since been beaten into submission and murdered by the heat. What was left was a lot of dirt. I was already getting covered in it.

Up front, just to the side of the stage was a sort of camp shower. It was full of Deadheads trying to find some relief from the heat. I gathered with the dirty hippies and got myself good and wet. That cooled me down for a short while and turned the dust that covered my body into mud. Later some kind soul would take a hose and spray the entire crowd down.

I bought myself a way too expensive bottle of water and waited for the show to begin.

I don’t remember much of the show, except that it was a good one. I remember Warren Haynes belting out The Beatles’ “She Said, She Said” and a great rendition of “The Wheel.” I’d only just learned that song but it had quickly become a favorite. Its lyrics remain profound.

I was desperately hoping for a version of “Ripple” or “Box of Rain” for the encore but instead, we got a cover of Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” which wasn’t bad.

What I really remember is just how ferocious the band sounded. I had seen RatDog* a couple of times at this point and they always sounded more intricate, more steadily put together. Phil and Friends were full of sound and fury. They were loud. They jammed on every song. It was great.

The sun eventually went down and cooled things off. The show ended late. Oklahoma City is a couple of hours from where my parents were living and I got home very late. I got home sunburned, exhausted, and utterly filthy, but with the biggest smile on my face.

That’s was Phil Lesh brought to the world. He let people dance and shake their bones. He gave joy to thousands of people all over the world.

What a long, long time to be gone. And a short time to be there.

—

*Listening to a recording of the Phil and Friends show earlier today I thought I heard Bob Weir sing on the first couple of songs but I just *knew* that couldn’t be true. Someone commented on the show on Archive.org about Bob making a guest appearance and I was ready to argue with him.

“I was there”, I was going to write, and “Bob wasn’t there.” “I don’t care if it sounds like him, I was there, damn it and I’m telling you Bob Weir didn’t make an appearance.” I was working on retorts like “Why would Bob Weir comes to freaking Oklahoma and only play on a couple of songs.” Then I looked it up. Bob was there. RatDog opened the show. I have no memory of that whatsoever.

Links of the Day: August 28, 2023

Nancy Pelosi on Dylan, the Grateful Dead, a wild night in Argentina — and the healing power of music: LA Times

Every cameo that Alfred Hitchcock made in his films: Yardbarker

Grateful Dead releases live track from upcoming ‘Wake of the Flood’ 50th anniversary edition: KSIX

NH filmmaker commemorates 1973 rock concert: NHBR

Revisiting Wilco & Bob Weir’s Masterful ‘Dark California Stars’ Performances: Jambase

Links of the Day: May 16, 2023 – Sammy Hagar, Dead & Co., Bob Dylan, Gordon Lightfoot…

The 46 Most Anticipated Albums of Summer 2023: Pitchfork

Watch Sammy Hagar + Bobby Weir & Wolf Bros Ring ‘In The Midnight Hour’ At Acoustic-4-A-Cure Benefit: Jambase

Dead & Company’s 2023 Farewell Tour: Everything you need to know: Sportskeeda

Dave McMurray’s “Grateful Deadication” at the Magic Bag, 5 things to know: Press and Guide

New book on Bob Dylan will feature hundreds of rare images: Japan Today

Gordon Lightfoot’s Final Album Announced: Pitchfork

Martin Scorsese: “I’m Old. I Want to Tell Stories, and There’s No More Time”: Vanity Fair

Live Review: Glenn Kotche at Senior Hall • Homewood: Illinois Entertainer

Move Me Brightly: Celebrating Jerry Garcia’s 70th Birthday

move me brightly

Here’s a review more of you can get behind. A bunch of cool folks got together in 2012 to celebrate what would have been Jerry Garcia’s 70th birthday and threw a big musical party.

My memory of this is that it is good, but it must have not been mind-blowing because I haven’t listened to it since.

I’m also pretty sure Phil Lesh came for a couple of songs and then took off because he had his own gig at his own place that same day.

You can read my review here.