Hey, Billy. Whatcha doing?
“Drumming. Being a crazy old fuck. Same old shit.”
Nice. You looking forward to the Farewell Shows?
“Yeah. No. Sure. The money. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I played with those fuckers for 25 years. Gonna be fun to do it again and Trey’s just the tits, y’know? But it ain’t the Dead. The Dead was me and Garcia, the sound of it. We never really got close, did y’know that?”
“There was the early, acid stuff: that whole bonding and living on top of each other thing. But I had a wife and a kid real early, always had my own place. Never really…here’s the main distinction: he took out his negative emotions on himself; I took out my negative emotions on others. Socially, we couldn’t understand each other like we could musically. But that was what mattered, right?”
“Ah, hell: at least it isn’t any of those fake Jerry assholes. I can’t stand them fuckers. Sound like your damn self. I don’t mind playing the old shit: I still play all the old shit with my new bands. But we play ’em our way. Trey’s gonna play his way.”
I think this is the most we’ve ever talked.
“It was nice.”