Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: keith godchaux (page 4 of 15)

Better Than Roses On Your Piano

[embedyt] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afHQQhig9BY[/embedyt]

That’s the Hammond B3 organ, played by Jimmy Smith in honor of Al Green’s birthday. (Do not get Al Green hot grits for his birthday.) Before laptops full of sounds, and MIDI, or even analog synths, there was the instrument you are legally required to refer to as “the mighty B3” at least once while writing about it.

The Hammond organ originated because people couldn’t afford pipe organs. In defense of the pipe organs: they pretty much have to be pricey. A pipe organ is both labor and material-intensive, and then requires constant maintenance and you also need to build the building around it. This is out of reach for most churches, especially smaller American churches, but a relatively thin and quiet piano wouldn’t do, either. Pianos are for thinking; for praying, you need an organ.

So, in 1935, a guy named Laurens Hammond invented this:

hammond b3 organ leslie

Okay, not that one. That’s the B3, which was introduced in ’54, but it has all the features of the original design: two 61-note keyboards, bass pedals, drawbars for the tone, and the iconic Leslie rotating speaker. Inside the guts of the thing are tonewheels: little metal spinners next to a pickup that generated a given frequency. Speaking of spinning, the Leslie is not called a rotating speaker euphemistically: that sucker has a motor in it.

This naturally made the instrument unspeakably heavy. Combined, the organ and speaker weighed three tons, more if the crew was stashing their drugs in it, but heft wasn’t a concern for Mr. Hammond in his design; these things were not intended to be moved. The guy came to fix it, rather than you bringing it in for repairs.

The B3 is complicated, if you play it right: the tonewheels only do “on” and “off” so you control the volume with your foot, plus you’re heel-and-toeing the bass line, and also playing two keyboards simultaneously while fucking around with the drawbars. And since this is the past we’re talking about, you were smoking a cigarette while you played.

Plus, they were expensive: none of Garcia’s costly guitars could begin to reach the cost of the B3. When the Dead upgraded Pig from the piercing and cheesy Vox organ he was originally saddled with, a new one was three grand. Figure the Dead got it used for two: that’s $13,000.

(And though the Boys had a habit of picking up shady equipment, the Hammond must have been acquired from a legitimate source rather than in a “cash” deal with a “friend.” It was repossessed right off the stage in late ’70, and things you buy from drug dealers don’t get repossessed, only stuff from actual stores.)

Keith was terrified of the thing, preferring his grand piano and Fender Rhodes to the point of obstinacy, but when Brent joined the band, the road crew dug the old girl out and Brent could truly play the fuck out of that beast.

brent hammond rhodes
Brent didn’t have a piano; more correctly, the band wouldn’t give him a piano. This was a plan that reached its logical conclusion when, after Brent died, they hired a guy to decide what Vince’s sounds would be. (And Garcia specifically forbade him from playing with a Hammond tone.)

Also:

“Precarious, where should I put this amplifier?”

“On top of another amplifier.”

“How?”

“Set it down in the least stable way allowed by its shape.”

“Gotcha.”

Now, though, the Dead (Or What’s Left Of ‘Em) have over-compensated and have adopted a laissez-faire policy towards the question “How much room does the keyboardist get in the truck?” and this now happens in cities across America:

jeff chimenti keyboards overhead

Enthusiasts, you will note my long-standing love for Jeff Chimenti. I don’t need 50 shades of gray, just one: Jeff Chimenti. If Jeff Chimenti and I were playing Star Wars in the schoolyard, I would let him be Han. He might be pound-for-pound the best keyboardist that’s ever been in any version of the Dead: he plays the piano as well as Keith; and the organ as well as Brent, and that’s saying something.  Those two were motherfuckers. (Jeff also makes distracting calliope noises as well as TC or Vince.)

But, holy shit, is that too much keyboard. That’s the Full Wakeman. If Jeff Chimenti wants to continue having that much keyboard around him, then he should be further surrounded by ice skaters dressed as Knights of the Round Table. This is hubris, Jeff Chimenti, and you are flying too close to the stage lights.

Although, this is truly the Grateful Dead thing to do. The truth is that the sounds generated by each of those instruments can be reproduced now so faithfully that maybe 1% of the population could tell the difference, and each sound triggered by one keyboard. Grand pianos, B3’s, Fender Rhodeseseses: heavy as shit and finicky. The humidity matters, and they need professional care.

Plus, that is Brent’s B3 organ/Leslie speaker combo, and it belongs onstage. And if it’s onstage, someone might as well play it. (The Rhodes and the piano are of unknown–to me, at least–provenance and perhaps someone could fill us in. Keith’s piano at least one Stealie inlaid in it, so I don’t think that’s it.)

I retract my assertion: Jeff Chimenti is playing the proper amount of keyboards. In fact, I propose another two or three be suspended above him, and that the floor-piano from Big be installed beneath him.

I Got My Mojo Working Out

Many tales have been told of the Grateful Dead: they’ve been examined from angles musical, financial, sociological, historical, chemical, metaphysical, biographical, academic, and there was a coloring book once. Never, though, has the Dead’s relationship with exercise been detailed, and certainly not with the scholastic rigor I intend to apply to the following bullshit I’m about to make up.

Bobby was the most physical-minded of the group; he cared about the parts of his body that were not his dick or stomach, and engaged in strenuous and joyful fits of exercise, plus many soothing and barefoot yoga sessions. Bobby enjoyed running almost as much as he enjoyed running shorts. In the 70’s, he took up mountain biking, and in the 80’s got into hill biking; the 90’s saw Bobby become interested in riding his bike on flat terrain, and in the 00’s, Ebay was founded, which is where Bobby sold his bike.

Mickey gave Bobby a run for his money, though, and sometimes literally: Mickey liked to combine his athletics with gambling and would often make more money off his impromptu wagering than from a tour. Like Bobby, Mickey took up bicycling for a while, but always preferred his horses, as it was impossible to dose a bicycle.

And here lies a sheer and fatal drop-off in both athletic ability and exercisial enthusiasm. Except for Bobby and Mickey, every Grateful Dead would be picked last and sent to right field. (There are pictures of Bobby playing softball; there are pictures of Garcia watching softball.) You might pick Billy a little higher up if you were playing hockey and wanted to start a fight.

Billy’s exercise came primarily from running amok. Smoothie in the morning, throw a mailbox at a cop around lunch, run through a hospital with a chainsaw before the show, and then finish up the day with cardio (Billy calls anal “cardio”).

The ocean also provides Billy with a chance to stretch, strengthen, and shape up; he has invented something he calls “sharkour,” but is actually just swimming slowly and looking at fish. (You cannot do parkour underwater as there are no benches to vault over, and even if there were, you can’t vault over anything underwater.)

Phil’s idea of exercise was standing up during a blowjob.

The keyboardists were all over the place, as should be expected: Pig did Tai Chi once, by accident; TC did some fancy bullshit, I’m sure; Keith, along with Mrs. Donna Jean, trained in mixed-martial arts and practiced on each other constantly; Brent was the Marin county free-diving champ three years in a row until he was beaten; Bruce beat him; Vince owed his taut tush to ballroom dance.

Garcia always carried his own briefcase, though sometimes it was heavy.

L’ego Pour L’ego

IMG_3837

When this year gets you down–and it should have by now–remember that people are still delightful on occasion, and that though there is evil and strife, there is also a guy in Japan who makes Lego dioramas of of a semi-defunct choogly-type band from two continents over.

Also: as stated, that is the 1978 band with Keith and Mrs. Donna Jean, and Maria Muldaur with the curly plastic hair; the inevitable John Kahn on bass, and the wonderfully-named Buzz Buchanan on drums.

It would be wrong to say that the Maria Muldaur Lego looks like Whora the Explora.

Also also: Garcia’s long-lost twin from the Sub-Continent, Curry Garcia.

A Momentary Confusion

keith band orpheum 76

There was nothing the Grateful Dead couldn’t make more complicated.

Also: this picture confuses me. Those aren’t stage lights in the upper righthand corner: they’re film lights. Rock and roll lighting hangs from a truss; it certainly doesn’t go in front of the band with gels gaffer-taped over the bulbs.

And since we know that the Dead’s road crew would never do more work than required (and sometimes not even that), then we must infer that this show was captured on film.

It is here, Enthusiasts that I can either be honest or simply delete the whole post; for both our sakes, I choose honesty: this photo is from 7/12/76 at the Orpheum in San Francisco, which we do in fact know was filmed. You can watch the soundcheck, courtesy of the legendary and mysterious Voodoonola:

Now, here’s where I turn into a complete slapdick: I had a whole theory about how the photo was not from 7/12, but instead from a different night in the run, which means another night was recorded and that there was a pro-shot film from ’76 being kept from us. My thesis relied heavily on the fact that Mrs. Donna Jean is wearing a different blouse in the photo than in the soundcheck video.

And then I remembered that people change their clothes.

Sorry to have wasted your time.

Stuck In The Middle With Keith

band 77 bw phil tie

I’ve seen other shots from this photo shoot (Phil Wears a Tie in ’77), but not this particular picture. It’s been a while since we’ve had a good group shot, and we shall get back to basics by going left to right.

  • Mickey wins.
  • That is the most fuckable Mickey’s hair has ever been.
  • Plus the hockey jersey/mustache combo: he looks like a the left-winger on the fighting line.
  • Sure, there’s a bit of coke-face going one, but still: Mickey wins.
  • What happened to the guy who used to own that tie?
  • Did Phil take it as a prize?
  • Phil’s hair also looks good, but not as good as Mickey’s; also, Phil has no mustache.
  • And he needs to stop looking at Mrs. Donna Jean like that.
  • And Mrs. Donna Jean needs to stop looking at Phil like that.
  • Garcia sees it.
  • Look at Garcia’s face.
  • I’ll wait.
  • Right?
  • There’s no culture in the world in which that expression doesn’t translate to “Goddammit, man.”
  • (Although neither Phil nor Garcia is wearing his glasses, so they might think they’re looking at each other.)
  • A rare L for Bobby.
  • Bobby usually wins the picture, but his starter beard can’t stand up to Mickey’s Doug Henning-style.
  • If Bobby’s ’77 beard used the Time Sheath to meet Bobby’s current beard, it would be in awe.
  • The real-life Billy has the liberal views you might expect from a Grateful Dead, but Billy’s face in this picture is voting for Trump.
  • Also, if Billy and Mickey tilted their heads to opposing sides, their mustaches would form parentheses around the Grateful Dead.
  • Oh, Keith.
  • You’ve seen some shit, haven’t you?

Third One Down

IMG_3564

Is Twitter just finding out?

The Last Half-Step

img_3303Garcia, lemme ask you a question.

“Shoot.”

Why weren’t you guys at the Last Waltz?

“Weren’t asked.”

Okay.

“Didn’t wanna.”

Sure.

“Whole thing was kinda jive, anyway.”

People have many opinions on that evening.

“Also, they couldn’t meet our price.”

There ya go.

“And, you know: come up and play one song. Not our thing. We weren’t real tight with The Band, anyway, man. Danko was great fun, real solid cat, and Levon was always a hoot. Loved their records, but you know: we didn’t hang out with ’em.”

You were on the road.

“Right, man. Barely got time for your rhythm section, let alone another band. Played with ’em at Watkins Glen, but they weren’t really jammers, y’know? They just played their songs real good, which is just as valid as our way, I suppose.”

You’re a reasonable man.

“I’m dead: it’s easy.”

Sure.

“Although, they used to wear those little suits, right? Remember Big Pink? Those suits? They used to wear ’em onstage. Looked like fancylads.”

They weren’t manly suits, no.

“Plus, you know…promise you won’t tell anybody I said this?”

Sure. Why not.

“We were better than everybody there.”

Neil Young, Dylan, Muddy Waters?

“Maybe not Muddy, but: yeah.”

Better than Van Morrison?

“In so many ways.”

Yeah, I guess.

“You see what I’m saying.”

I do.

“Also, when we played Winterland, we took up all the dressing rooms; they wanted to give us one dressing room for everybody.”

That wouldn’t work.

“Yeah, man. Dead rolls deep.”

Wheels Up

mickey keith phil 2 giants
I’ve never seen more of Precarious Lee’s handiwork in one place. This stage setup (from the Dead’s first Giants Stadium show on 9/2/78) goes beyond a lack of interest in the visual aesthetic. This was a deliberate decision.

“How raggedy-assed can it possibly look?” the Dead said.

And the Greatest Roadie of All Time, Precarious Lee, answered, “Gimme an hour.”

Just Might Be Your Kind Of Zoo

img_2947Zoo World was some sort of brief and unmoneyed competitor to Rolling Stone for a few minutes in the early 1970’s and I can’t imagine why it folded.

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, Boss?”

“How’s the cover for the January issue coming?”

“Not great, Boss. We couldn’t decide between fonts, so we just used all five.”

“Okay.”

“Plus, you cannot read half the words. Just can’t make them out, and that’s before we print it onto that second-hand newsprint you bought from your friend, Rudy.”

“Big Rudy! Cheapest paper in town.”

“There’s a reason, Boss. There’s a reason Rudy is so cheap.”

“What else?”

“Picture’s rough.”

“How rough?”

“Only one of the guys in the band is even human-looking.”

“Which band is it again?”

“Grateful Dead.”

“Oh, that’s not the picture. That’s how they look.”

“Jesus.”

“Not a Deadhead, Jenkins?”

“I like hip-hop.”

“Jenkins, it’s nineteen seventy-fucking-four: you most certainly do not like hip-hop.”

And, so on.

PLUS, if you knew nothing about the Dead and looked at that picture and I told you that the guy on the left was about to leave the band, you would believe me.

ALSO PLUS, the men on either side of Billy are protecting their dicks. That’s muscle memory.

Helping Keep Austin Weird

Earlier, I posted that oral history of the Dead in Austin; it goes on about Manor Downs, and one of those very shows got into the 30 Trips box: 7/31/82. I can’t link to the new mix, but this one is a Charlie Miller SBD with a bunch of good reviews, so it can’t suck.

Also from the oral history, here are two pictures of the Dead in Austin. They’re from–I think–the ’71 shows captured on the Road Trip release, and feature a terrible idea: see if you can spot it in this group shot.

band young austin bw
Did you spot the terrible idea? You have to enlarge the picture, so luckily there’s a better shot.

jerry strat numbers bw
Even if you’ve taken only a little tiny bit of acid, those numbers are going to start meaning shit. That will become distracting.

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