This is another article about the Grateful Dead, also from Rolling Stone, but not by David Browne, as it is from 1973 and David Browne does not have access to Time Sheath technology. (I might have let him borrow it, but there was no discussion of me in the Bobby interview, so David Browne will remain an unpilgrim, stuck in time.) The article’s a good one: half about the band’s ludicrous ramblings and plans, and half about the logistical process of getting a PA in and out of an arena.
Watches, Enthusiasts, are a dead technology fetishized by anoraks and the moneyed bored; they’re like horses for your wrist. But this Guardian article about the luxury watch market is excellent and fascinating, filled with all kinds of hilarious facts. Did you know the fancy timepieces, the shit Josh buys, the real high-dollar stuff: they don’t keep particularly good time; a quartz watch beats them, and obviously your phone beats everything.
(There are activities that require watches still–outdoorsy bullshit, and navigating, or if you’re off the grid–but we don’t keep the time in clocks any more. Along with everything else in our society, we’ve translated time into binary and entrusted it to the computers. If you want to know what time it is in 2016, you need to ask the computers, otherwise you ‘re just estimating.)
I promised you a picture; here is it:
Goes with the Bobby one, doesn’t it?
Go read this. It’s by Jesse Jarnow, who is great, and it’s about acid and at this point I am confident in making the assertion that Jarnow is the King of Acid. The man has cornered the market; no one is more acidic; Jarnow owns acid.
The article’s an overview of the fifty years since the Dead played a party “celebrating” the illegalization of LSD, though to say that acid was “legal” before that is stretching it: it was more like the authorities hadn’t heard of it yet. The second they did, though: boom. Although in the authorities’ defense: acid is weird and scary, and the negros like to feed it to our daughters.
Plus, it contains a little bit about micro-dosing, which is utter foolishness, but instead of calling it utter foolishness, Jesse does this:
Fadiman argues that 10 micrograms of LSD taken every few days on a careful cycle, with disciplined self-observance, can make one a healthier person. Though none of the scientific research supports Fadiman’s theory, and there is no formal measure of how many have tried, microdosing’s compelling name and concept has given it a viral life of its own.
See? His way is much better.
Plus–and I did not know this and I can foresee myself becoming furious over it–some in the psychedelic community (they used to be called dopesuckers, but now they’re a community) have likened going public about their drug use to coming out of the closet, which is not the dumbest thing I’ve heard this week, but you have to remember what year it is. In any week in a normal annum, that analogy would have been by far the dumbest bullshit I’ve ever heard: insultingly glib and reductive and privileged, and anyone espousing it in public should be mocked, also in public. Unfortunately: 2016, so that’s not even the dumbest thing I’ve heard today.
Never let it be said that Rolling Stone is not still a bastion of journalism. What about the guy who wrote Monster Mash? Who’s he voting for?
BUT, you should go read the great David Browne’s latest article about the royal purple clusterfuck that is Prince’s estate. (WARNING! AUTO-PLAY!)
If you care, there is an article between the covers of the Rolling Stone about Dead & Company; we learn two things. One: although this piece is not written by FoTotD David Browne, author of So Many Roads: The Life and Times of the Grateful Dead, it is written by David Fricke. We can therefore deduce that a superfluous “e” is required to write about the Dead for RS. And, two: Bobby wants to go back in the studio, because that’s where the Dead shines.
Things are happening, Enthusiasts. People are meeting and rehearsing and signing things and arguing with Phil: the Grateful Dead show is back on the air and one of the most important members of the cast is the new boy.
Trey sat down with a reporter from Rolling Stone, a magazine that–like certain choogly-type bands–has been coasting on its reputation for almost 40 years now. It is a good interview and Trey says the only thing that matters: that he’s taking this seriously and wants to do nothing other than make some good music this July Fourth weekend.
Trey did say some other things that were unfortunately left out of the article, but–due to TotD’s vast network of spies–we can now present Things Left Out of Trey’s RS Article:
- He’s already started soloing.
- Bobby keeps measuring his inseam and talking about how hot it gets in Chicago in the summer.
- Trey won’t be playing Garcia’s guitar, but he will be wearing Garcia’s underwear. (There are holes and stain. To be honest, everything that’s not a hole is a stain.)
- Just as he’s been spending his days learning the Dead’s repertoire, Billy has been listening to Phish. This is, Trey explains in the interview, part of Billy’s program of “every time you think you’re fucking clever and try to slip some of that Gamehenge bullshit in, you get punched in the dick.”
- Mike Gordon keeps calling him and not saying anything and then hanging up.
- Bobby keeps offering him pain pills to “take the edge off” and it’s going to end poorly.
- The openers are (in order) Feel Like a Stranger, Bertha, and Shakedown. That wasn’t in the article: I’m just guessing, but I’m right.
- Billy’s way of teaching people songs is to throw half-empty tall boys at them.
- That is also Mickey’s preferred teaching method.
- The rehearsals are going to be at Bobby’s studio. Phil had a great idea to hold them at his restaurant and charge folks $300 to eat short ribs while they watched, but everyone hated that idea, and it was Jill’s idea.
- Bruce Hornsby is a brutal and sadistic man who may or may not belong to ISIS.
- There are actually no shows planned: the Dead will be cashing all the mail order MOs, fleeing the country, and resettling in places without extradition treaties or taboos about senior/teen fox humping. It’s all been a long con.
- Mickey professes to dislike Indian food, yet aways smells of chutney, and it’s driving Trey mad.