Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: porter wagoner

Live Nudies

The Nudie Suit experiment has never been properly explained; this sounds like a job for Lost Live Dead. There’s not many pics of The Boys in their suits, and they only wore them for a few shows: one (or more) of the Winterland run in December ’72, and then again at New Year’s. The outfits came out again 2/19/73 in Chicago, and then made their final appearance on 3/19/73 at Nassau Coliseum. (And not even for the whole show: everyone changed during set break.)

Wait, you’re saying. Those sound suspiciously like facts, TotD. You don’t traffic in fact and research.

Stop talking, I’d say, or I’ll throw myself out the window and you’ll never find out how the Little Aleppo story ends.

Wow, you’d reply. That got dark real fast.

And then I’d start crying. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted?

Stop this.

They did it. It’s all their fault.

Who is “they?”

Them.

Just stop it.

Fine. The dates from Winterland and Chicago may be wrong–I’m just going on Archive comments–but the Nassau show is a confirmed event. There is, Enthusiasts, evidence.

Look:

Bobby says in an interview that Garcia had his first, in fact had his before April of ’72 because he brought it to Europe with him (even though he didn’t have the balls to wear it onstage.) After March of ’73, though, they were gone forever. Phil still has his…

…and it still fits. (Phil went a little low-key with his, which I disagree with. What’s the point of a Nudie Suit if it can’t be seen from space?)

Who has Garcia’s? Gotta be worth something, more if it hasn’t been laundered.

But let me start at the beginning: 1902 was a terrible time to be born Jewish in Kiev. There’s never been a good time, but 1902 was worse than usual.

“Izzy?”

“Yes, Schmuley?”

“We should go somewhere where there aren’t Cossacks.”

“What is it with those guys?”

“They just seem to like hitting us with sticks.”

“And kicking.”

“Kicking, too. Let’s go to America.”

“You mean the Land of the Free, a country built on immigration that would never turn away needy and desperate refugees?”

“No, America.”

“Oh, okay. At least there’ll be jobs.”

“Sure.”

And so on.

One of these newly-arrived Jews was a young man named Nuta Kotlyarenko, who renamed himself Nudie Cohn and became a tailor, first in Minnesota where he met his wife Bobbie; they opened a shop in New York selling underwear to showgirls, and then moved to Los Angeles in the 40’s to make Western Wear. Spangles and frills and themes, and the last one is the most important: the key to the Nudie Suit is the theme. Anyone can slap some rhinestones onto a jacket, but a Nudie has a raison d’etre.

Look at this bullshit:

That’s some down-home bullshit right there.

That’s Porter Wagoner (right), and he was the first Country star to start wearing Nudie Suits; in fact, Nudie gave him his first suit for free, thinking it would be good promotion. It was. Soon, every male Country star had to have a Nudie Suit.

Hank Williams had one:

The notes represented his love of music.

Gram Parsons had one, too:

The drugs represent his love of drugs.

Every artist has a masterpiece, and Nudie Cohn was certainly an artist. His greatest suit of all time may have been both his simplest and his flashiest. You’ve seen it before once or twice:

“AH’M BACK!”

No, you’re not. Shh.

Anyway, Nudie Cohn died in 1984, but you can still get “Nudie Suits;” they make periodic comebacks adorning roots-rockers or alt-country acts. (You really can’t wear a Nudie Suit anywhere other than the stage. If you walk into a Taco Bell dressed like this, you will get gorditas thrown at you.)

Circling back to the Dead (this is about the Grateful Dead, remember), we still have many questions. Why would Garcia have had one in the first place? A Nudie Suit wasn’t an impulse purchase, nor could it have been a gift: they were hand-made, so you have to visit Nudie for measurement and fittings, and very expensive. And recall that Garcia got his before everyone else did, so it wasn’t a group decision. Garcia–in an entirely out-of-character move–bought himself a Nudie Suit out of nowhere? None of this makes sense. Bobby was the one who thought he was a cowboy. Someone explain this to me.

Like I said, the rest of the band thought it was a spiffy idea, so they followed Garcia down to the San Fernando Valley of Los Angeles, where Nudie’s of Hollywood was located, and fancied themselves right up. Bobby and Billy looked like this:

“I was gonna get skank on the legs, but I settled for pot.”

Quiet. This is not a dialogue post.

“Ah, suck my nuts.”

Great.

Even Keith had one, though there’s just this one black-and-white photo of him:

Poor Keith. He doesn’t want to be in a Nudie Suit. He knows he’s not pulling it off. Aw.

Much like the Farewell Shoes, Mrs. Donna Jean was not included. She did, however, wear a very fetching red number when the rest of the band payed dress-up. She looked like this:

Another alternate reality created, another unwritten future. What if they hadn’t learned to write songs? What if they buckled down and rehearsed and continued being the band they were in ’77? What if Brent didn’t die? And: What if they gave a shit about what they looked like?

Alas, it was not to be. The Nudie Suits were put in the closet, and the tee-shirts and jeans came out; in the 80’s, sweatpants and short shorts replaced the jeans. Never again would the Dead have “stage clothes.” But for a moment, they looked bitchin’.

Grand Ole Dress Code

dolly-porter-opry

This, Enthusiasts, is what you’re supposed to wear at the Ryman Auditorium; you should also be at least this Gentile. Bobby, who is currently doing a victory lap around the music industry like a retiring sports legend, is there tonight; he’s wearing a sports coat, at least, but he is also of course wearing his Birkenstocks. This is simply not done, and in fact may be the first time a man has ever worn sandals on that particular stage.

TotD now presents Other Clothing Never Worn Onstage At The Grand Ole Opry:

  • Tie-dye.
  • Uggs.
  • Pink sweatpants with JUICY written across the butt.
  • Dashiki.
  • Barrister’s wig. (There have been a shitload of wigs worn at the Ryman–hell, Dolly’s wearing one in the picture–but not a powdered, curly, symbolic, foreign wig.)
  • Assless chaps. (Again: there have certainly been chaps at the Ryman, but none of that David Lee Roth tushee-window bullshit.)
  • Armor, plate.
  • Armor, chain.
  • Armor, all.
  • Rainbow-colored Speedo.
  • Turtleneck. (It’s just a weird rule; no one knows why they’re banned, but the last person to flout the proscription was Randy Travis; ever since then, he’s had his career and life systematically ruined by a shady group of country music insiders known as the Hillbilluminati.)

Life Is Short: Listen To ’73

Listen: if I have to sell this thing past mentioning it’s 14 minutes of Nudie suits, pompadours, casual sexism, aggressive gentilism, and four or five of the most beautiful country duets ever recorded.

There’s two types of music, Enthusiasts: good and bad; Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner singing together is good music.

Fully Dressed In A Nudie Suit

This is the legendary (no bullshitting or snark or irony implicit) Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner doing Lost Forever in your Kiss on some long-gone hillbilly TV show, and it is a little scary: I will not lie.

The guitarist’s Jesus sticker and Porter’s facial structure combine to give a very clear message of “Fuck off, Jewboy” to those of us attuned to those sorts of things. Plus, it’s the sixties, so Dolly has to giggle at Porter’s jokes and show deference to him, even though she’s a brilliant songwriter and performer and businesswoman and clearly the brains of this outfit. (Nobody’s planning a summer vacation to Porter Wagoner’s theme park, are they?)

Also, the audience is made up of, like, four random children and both Dolly and Porter’s hair need red blinking lights on their apexes per FAA regulations.

But then they start singing…

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