The comments over at Dead.net are a constant source of fun. In their defense, they seem like nice enough guys and they pay enough attention to their grammar for my head not to explode, but they’ve groupthought themselves into a frothing pout over the lack–the DEARTH, fucker!–of product from the 1980’s.
Picasso had his blue period. The Dead had a period that blew.
Actually, two: Garcia’s rebirth, combined with Phil remembering he was in a band somewhere around ’87, gave them a few years of grace; they sizzle and smoke on, say, the MSG shows from ’88. Then Brent went and Garcia got so much smaller after that, suffering that old fate of Ophelia.
To hear the lunatics over there, you’d think there actually was a Big Dead trying to keep the fact that 1983 was the band’s peak under wraps.
Um, there IS actually a Big Dead trying–
—to keep the…No, what?
No, I believe in Big Dead. You’re the voice of reason in these little sketches. Normal-type guy says something kooky and then you, Italics Man, contradict me.
I know I’m right. Read your fucking script, man.
I am such a–fuck, I’m gonna go.
Maybe you should, yeah.
You have NO IDEA what it’s like to work with this guy, man!
I can dig it.
I’m going to my imaginary trailer.
That’s five, everybody!