After the umpteenth skippination of the Bobby Blues number, I’ve decided I can no longer even pretend that the Dead were any good at playing a straight twelve-bar. Even C.C. Rider, which I always had a soft spot for.
This is how you play C.C. Rider:
Two things about that Elvis performance: as always, the great Ronnie Tutt on drums; and, in the sizzling light of truth that only shines on Sunday mornings, we can see that the King is heroically fucked up on pills and sandwiches.