Interestingly I saw the Dead live way more than any other band, including bands I loved way more and saw many times. I saw them here in town and in nearby Atlanta, and I had an absolute blast traveling with a bunch of friends to see the Dead play in cities in different parts of the country including Hampton, Virginia and at Red Rocks in Colorado. The plane flights there and back alone were worth going.
I wasn't a real Deadhead for several reasons. Mainly there was other music that got my juices flowing a lot more to be honest- more powerful drumming, more intricate arrangements and many other reasons. Plus I was put-off by so many of the Deadheads who though that Grateful Dead music was the only valid music in the world and basically ignored so much other great music, much like "Jazz Snobs." So much music...so little time. I was into everything from Acid Jazz to Rock to Prog and I was really into Funk. The Dead was a great stopover along the way between genres.
Although I could appreciate it I certainly didn't have time to indulge in all the "religious" aspects the Deadheads endowed the music with. They'd trip out on things like changes in the songlist, or if Jerry did this or did that (The Fat Man Wobbles) and all kinds of minutia. They also loved to listen to every single bootleg they could get their hands on, which sometimes drove me to distraction. I remember driving ten hours to see them in Hampton. There were at least 15 of us and we took several cars. I rode with my good friend Stephen and three other people. After about 7-1/2 hours of driving and listening to nothing but bootleg soundboard tapes and hearing "Sugaree" for the tenth time I finally cracked and asked Stephen if we could please listen to something else for a minute. Luckily he wasn't offended and everyone else thought it was a nice breath of fresh air too.
Besides listening to 150 versions of the same song, which I can also understand, the thing about that to me was that they could be a little sloppy. I know that was part of the charm but to me it got old after a while. Sure they could be on fire and tight as hell and blow my mind sometimes but they weren't exactly consistent. That too was part of the charm but to me it was just sloppy. I was the antithesis of a Deadhead in that while I didn't give a shit if I ever heard another soundboard tape in my life, I absolutely adored their studio albums, and to many of the Deadheads the records were just a means of getting the songs together so they could be played live, and they didn't really dig the studio stuff nearly as much.
I loved their studio stuff because it was tight for one thing. It had to be, since a studio recording will be around for a long time. Plus I thought the songs were really good and sometimes great, and I appreciated them more and more as I listened more. I do get that the energy of the live shows was what it was all about and indeed they were considered to be a "live band," but from a song standpoint I really enjoyed the clean studio versions. I bet I played drums along to Shakedown Street about 850 times. The drumming was really good but mostly simple, and I love stuff with technical drumming, but the feel was amazing, and to me that's #1.
Speaking of studio albums and playing drums I have to relate a story from when I worked at the crazy restaurant. Even though as I said I'd later fall in love with Shakedown Street, in the early days of working there I hadn't played drums to a Dead record. I'd covered Dead songs in bands and I'd learned the songs but hadn't really bothered with analyzing the actual drum parts because it wasn't usually necessary. There were a bunch of true Deadheads there- my great bud to this day Andy, and Kimberly, Clark, Ronnie and several others. The restaurant was pretty wild and more informal at first, and we played whatever we wanted on the stereo, which was usually Grateful dead and Oingo Boingo, but mostly we played Dead during food-service hours.
I started really getting into Terrapin Station and especially the title track. It clocked in at something like twelve minutes and to me it was almost a "Prog" epic, especially for the Dead. I really got into hearing it just playing in the background, and like every other tune I like I started to memorize it, and I actually payed attention to the drum parts. It rocked and it grooved and it had little movements and tempo shifts and all, and for a song that did that it really had a beautiful flow. From hearing bits and pieces of the song when I was passing through the dining room I finally memorized it.
Andy lived in a huge, beautiful stone house that was less than two miles away. The basement door was always open for anyone at the restaurant who got too buzzed to drive home, and since I was close to the whole family I was over there all the time. Sometimes if I was working a double I'd go over to Andy's and play drums for a couple of hours and go back to work. He had a really nice drum kit. One afternoon I did that and I decided that I was going to play drums to a Dead album for the first time, and that I was going to play "Terrapin Station, or "Terrapin" for short.
I don't remember how but a bunch of people found out about it and followed me to Andy's house. That was before the Internet and cellphones and such, so believe it or not that was considered to be entertainment. To me it was going to be something special, but I never thought it would be worth people actually driving over to watch, but it turned out to be amazing. I remember having a smile on my face because I knew it was going to be a treat, and maybe people picked up on that. It turned into a party. Most of my friends were off for the rest of the day so they stopped to grab some beers. I didn't ever like drinking in the daytime or especially before a shift so I didn't participate, but I'd guess a J or two was burnt.
I put on the headphones and everybody found a place to sit. I may have played a song or two to warm up; I don't remember, but I started into Terrapin pretty quickly. I played it note-for-note with a grin on my face the whole twelve minutes, and everybody clapped when I finished. I hate to use an overused word but it was really almost a "religious experience." I'm not really sure why but again the feel was incredible. There was passion and integrity and melody and beauty and a few twists and turns, and it really took me on a ride. I was glad that people wanted to share that with me and a good time was had by all. Pardon the detour...it's Dead-related anyway, and it was very personal. Now back to the band.
In each city, the day or the night before a show or series of shows, an entire city would spring up near the venue. It was usually in the parking lot but in a few cities where they were welcomed they stayed in the lots of nearby motels. It was like a tie-dye tent city. People fixed meals and did everything else people do, only in tents, and most of them followed the band all around the country for entire tours, for months on end. It was their whole existence. It may have been the closest thing we've seen to a "Utopian society" since the 60s. For the most part people were totally cool, but mostly they did whatever they wanted.
Drugs were sold openly, except in just a couple of places that tried to crack down on that stuff, and when the band found out they usually didn't play there again. Not because of the drugs but the oppression. When I say openly I mean openly. The cops knew there were too many people to bust so they left them alone as long as they weren't causing any trouble, and the vast majority weren't. It still blows my mind to this day when I can see clear images of guys in tie-dyes standing along the roads as far as five miles short of the venue, holding up entire sheets of acid; as many as 250 hits per sheet I think, and trying to sell them to anyone who looked like a Deadhead. They'd call out "SHEETS! Sheets for sale. SHEETS!" It was incredible. It sounds like a joke but I saw it pretty much every show. People bought them too. Back them most anything you could want was available, from weed to nitrous oxide to acid. TONS of acid.
As far as the drug scene went at Dead shows, I have to admit I fully indulged. For better or worse it's just part of the experience for most people. If you're going to take psychedelics, it's pretty amazing to be doing it with a few thousand other people at the same time. It does tend to make it a much more transcendent; universal and personal yet shared experience. At all but one (as a control) of the roughly 15 shows I attended I fully indulged.
Most times I liked to take 2-3 times more than what most people would take. I figured if I was going to commit the next six hours or so to a trip I might as well do it right. I didn't want to just see a few colors and tracers and then miss half a night's sleep...I wanted to see cartoons and shit. That philosophy held true for the Dead shows. I did skip taking stuff for one show, just to see if it was nearly as much fun, and I wish I hadn't done that. I still really enjoyed the show but it wasn't the same at all. I didn't feel "plugged-in" like I did tripping. You can say it was just the drugs, but I say there was a bit more to it than that.
At one show in Atlanta I saw skeletons climbing all over the rafters above the stage. I knew they weren't real of course but they appeared to be as real as anything else in the building, to the point that I'd have sworn they were part of the show. For all I know maybe they were there. At one of the daytime shows at Red Rocks I saw skeletons relaxing on top of the clouds, and about 100 rainbows in the sky. I also "saw" music coming out of the speakers as waves of color. The different colors, patterns and shapes of the waves seemed to match the music perfectly, like Synesthesia. It was incredible.
At one point during one of the RR shows for good measure I'd taken shrooms and acid. Really good acid. I was up and sort of moving-grooving like everyone else, and I could have sworn on the Good Book that I'd somehow managed to dance my way up or down as many as five rows, and I KNEW I'd done it because every so often I'd look around and see different people who actually were moving around from row to row, but then I'd look down and see my shoes and my water bottle and stuff, and I knew I hadn't gone anywhere. It happened several times and it got me every time. I "saw" quite a few other things at various shows but I'd have to say that the skeletons climbing in the rigging in Atlanta had to be the wildest thing I experienced.
As long as I'm telling a personal story that's way too long and that nobody will read anyway I might as well tell another story. It does relate to how the Dead fit in to my musical hierarchy. The three shows at Red Rocks were daytime shows, and Dire Straits played the night between the second and third shows. My friend Will and his girlfriend were supposed to fly out with us and they'd gotten tickets to Dire Straits, but they had to bail and gave the tickets to me. I was overjoyed. I took Andy's sister Jennifer, whom I was crazy about and still am to this day. We couldn't have had a better time.
As far as being lenient on substances I never personally saw anything like Red Rocks. I couldn't believe it but they'd let you bring anything liquid into the venue as long as it wasn't in a glass container. People would even bring in jugs of a purple liquid that was obviously mushroom tea, but they didn't care. They'd sell drugs five feet from a cop. Anyway we went to the store and got a fifth of Stoli and a gallon of OJ. I poured half the OJ out and filled it with vodka and took that in. It was right after they'd released "Money for Nothing," which is still a song I could listen to fifty times a day and never tire of it. When they launched into that the crowd went nuts. They even had Sting's voice beautifully piped in, singing "I want my MTV." It was glorious.
The night was incredible. From the venue you can look to either side and see for miles in both directions. Several miles off to our right there was an intense thunderstorm that was producing amazing lightning shows in the sky but not bringing a drop of rain. It also happened to be the peak of the Perseid meteor shower. The sky above us was clear and we saw meteors flying by the whole show. The upshot of telling this is that that one Dire Straits show was better than the three Dead shows combined, but don't tell any of my Deadhead buddies I said that. After the concert Jennifer and I went back to the hotel.
We were the only ones who'd gone to Dire Straits. Everybody was doing shrooms and partying in Andy's room. They wanted us to join in but it was late and we were tired from having so much fun at the concert and we didn't want to commit to tripping for the next six hours when we needed to rest up for the show the next day, but they had a bag of dried shrooms with a lot of powder in the bottom, so we put that in a bong and smoked it. The effects come on instantly as opposed to eating them, and luckily don't last nearly as long when smoked. Jennifer and I had had so much fun at the show that our jaws already hurt from grinning all night, but when the shroom-bongs kicked in we started laughing again. A classic old horror-spoof called "The Ghost and Mr, Chicken" came on and we all watched that tripping on shrooms. It was a great way to end the night.
At the risk of being a name-dropper I have to mention my dear friend the one-and-only Dr. Bernie. He's a direct link to the band and a close mutual friend, especially to Jerry. For several years Bernie was my orthodontist and the same goes for Jerry. I can say that Jerry Garcia and I had the same orthodontist. That's my claim to fame. The Dead were coming here to B'ham and as usual Bernie was going to be spending the day with Jerry and the boys. I'd just started dating a friend of his named Anne. She was an angel. In fact she may have been too much of one.
Bernie invited me to come along and hang out with the band before and after the show and have dinner somewhere later. I was thrilled to be invited but it obviously wasn't as much of a thrill as it would've been for a true head. A few days before the show I was talking to Bernie and he was filling me in on a few details about what went on backstage at shows. He said that it was always very important that all the newbies learn which water cooler was which. One of them contained water. The other one contained water plus a big shot of pure LSD-25. I had to laugh at that. They did the same amount every time and they let the new guys know roughly how much to take to get to this or that level. Nobody gave a shit. It's a true story.
As it turned out I broke up with Anne about three days before the concert. It was bad timing but we'd been dating long enough to take it to the next level and become a thing, and we were planning to hang out for the next couple of days. She truly was a genuine sweetheart. We got along great and we really did like each other a lot. She was marrying material. The problem was that I was just getting started playing music full-time and all that goes with that, and I honestly didn't know if I could be faithful to her, knowing the temptations I knew'd be coming. I wanted to be faithful but I wasn't sure I could be.
I'm pretty certain she'd have been totally faithful to me and I didn't want to hurt her for anything in the world. Plus I knew we'd most likely be talking about some serious stuff after the night was over, still probably tripping, and I just didn't know what to say so I broke up with her. I didn't mean to hurt her but I did, and I thought it best not to go with them to the show. I went but I sat by myself. I was really looking forward to hanging out with the Dead and drinking from the magic water cooler and meeting Mickey and Billy and talking drums and Jerry of course and whatever else, but it didn't happen. Too bad.
I did get to meet Bob Weir when he was in town with his band Ratdog. I sat at the table right next to him. We had a beer and talked a bit and he wasn't really unfriendly but he wasn't overly-friendly either. His mind was elsewhere because he was waiting on an oh-zee of blow to arrive for him and the band. When it finally arrived he took off and that was that. I hate that shit anyway, and I'd already met enough "Rock Stars" by then to know that they can be just as big of a prick as anyone else, and meeting them has never been that huge of a deal. It didn't come close to hanging out out and actually be able to trip with the Grateful Dead but I did get to meet Bobby. I didn't ask for his autograph.
One of the most fun times I had at a show was actually a show I didn't see. There were three shows in Hampton but for some reason I didn't have tickets for all three shows. It wasn't a big deal and I planned to get a ticket even if I had to pay extra. I had plenty of cash but when I went scouting for a ticket they were asking over a hunj, which was a lot back then. Of course there was the occasional and legendary "miracle," where a total stranger would walk up to someone looking for a ticket, even if they were high-priced and almost non-existent, and hand them a ticket for free and smile and walk away. I saw it happen several times.
Anyway I had plenty of money but I wasn't about to pay that much to see the Dead (sorry guys). My friends couldn't believe I wouldn't pull out all the stops and pay stupid money for a ticket or stand there like a fool hoping for a "miracle." It was almost sacrilege to them but it wasn't that important, and I was getting to see the other two shows. They worried about me being by myself but I didn't mind that at all. I thought I'd have a walk around the town and grab dinner. I came back to the room on the second floor of a motel a few blocks from the venue. Since I wasn't going to the concert I didn't take any psychedelics. I smoked a bowl and went out on the balcony to get some air and check out the sights in a different town.
Hampton was one of the towns that really embraced the band and especially the Deadheads. The Dead played there often and they'd gotten to know the fans and realize they were good people, plus they appreciated the extra four days of cashflow into the local economy. They welcomed the fans at a couple or three of the local motels with "Welcome Deadheads" signs. We stayed at the main one. There were still tents but not nearly as many. At least half the people stayed in the motels. I'm sure it was nice to have a real shower and such and I'm sure they'd worked it into their budgets.
Our motel was 100% Deadheads. They booked the rooms in advance and basically took over for 3-1/2 days until checkout time after the last show. The first thing everybody did was take down the curtains and put up tie-dye sheets. It had become a tradition and it was beautiful to see. There were a couple-dozen or so people milling about in the courtyard of the motel. Apparently they didn't want to pay crazy money for tickets either. Somebody broke out a Frisbee and pretty soon we were tossing it back and forth across the courtyard. I can toss a decent Disc, and some of us were doing some pretty cool trick shots. I was on the second floor and I'd throw the Frisbee down hard at an angle and it would skip across the courtyard and up to the second floor on the other side. We had a great time talking about where we were from and things like that. Deadheads were generally very good people.
I could faintly hear the music from a few blocks away and if I paid attention I could tell what a few of the songs were. That in itself was an interesting way to listen to the Dead for me, and certainly cheaper than paying over $100 for a ticket. We heard the final roar as the band finished their set and then came back for an encore. Just then a huge storm rolled in. It was still a way off and it didn't start raining for 45 minutes or so but the lightning was intense and it was moving rapidly our way. The concert let out just as the lightning really started booming overhead. The huge crowd was headed back but still a few blocks away. Every time the lightning would flash and the thunder would boom everyone would cheer and clap. It cracked me up and it was fantastic. I realized that I was with a bunch of people who were also Nature-heads like me, and it was pretty cool. Again please don't tell anyone but I had at least as much fun not seeing a show as I did seeing one. Good times.
Something happened after a show in Atlanta and it was one of the coolest things I experienced in my whole time of seeing the Dead live. I went with my good buddy Sean, from the crazy restaurant. They played at the Omni. It was a great show but for some reason I didn't get nearly as dosed-up as I did for most of the other shows. Sean and I split three hits of acid I think, and we smoked some kind. After the show several thousand people headed out in all directions and spread out over the city of Hotlanta.
We parked about six blocks away. Normally it was a bad part of town after dark but with all the people and the cops on duty, the bad guys didn't try to mess with anyone, but they were there in full force trying to sell dope. We'd gone about three blocks. The people around us were starting to thin a bit but there were a couple-hundred on our block and spread out all over the city. You could hear people talking and laughing and everyone was in a great mood.
Sean looked over at me and said "Watch this." He started clapping the rhythm to the song "Not Fade Away." It goes "Clap, clap, clap...clap-clap. It's called the Clave Beat or the "Bo Diddley" beat. It's the "Shave and a haircut...two bits" thing. Within about five seconds several thousand people that by then were spread out over about nine city blocks all started clapping the rhythm in time. As a drummer I loved it greatly. I'm sure it had happened before but Sean did that just for me and I thought it was one of the coolest things I'd ever witnessed. That Sean.
Once I almost got to see a Dead show. My BFF Tut from the crazy restaurant and I showed up as usual for a Friday night shift. It was a very rare night where not much was on the books, and they offered to cut Tut and me loose if we wanted to go. We knew there was a Dead show that night in Atlanta, so we got a wild hair up our butts and decided to drive over. The problem was the show was starting in less than three hours, and we'd lose an hour going to Eastern time. Atlanta was almost a three-hour drive back then, so we knew we'd have to fly. It was no problem because Tut had one of the first Honda CRXs, and it was a fast-ass car. Tut wanted to have a few on the way over so I drove.
I drove 115mph that is. That car was made to go that fast, and we had to break the speed limit by a bit if we were to make it in time. We didn't have tickets either. I said a prayer for no cops, licked my thumb, grabbed the gearshift and let that bitch fly. I loved driving that car and luckily Tut trusted me with his baby. We flew like the wind to Atlanta. Tut could drink back then but he never did drugs in his life. He didn't like smoking pot even so he was afraid to try anything stronger.
That fact made it all the more strange when, about ten minutes away and still hauling ass in the CRX, I pulled a hit out of my wallet and dropped, and much much to my surprise Dave asked if he could have a hit. I was shocked but I gave him one. I guess maybe the same wild hair that made us decide that it was a good idea to drive 115 on the highway to try to catch a Dead show was the same wild hair that made him decide to try acid. I never really knew why he wanted to try it, but stranger things have happened. I asked him if he were sure and he said he was so I gave him a dose and he ate it.
We pulled up to the venue (the Omni again I think) but the show had already started. There wasn't a soul selling tickets, which was odd, except that if I remember correctly the doors were already locked. We decided to head back home. One of our favotite bands in the world, the Cast, was playing. We'd planned to see them after work anyway, and frankly while we saw almost every local show they did and rarely saw the Dead, I was way more into the Cast than the Dead. Shhhh...don't tell.
As I got back on the highway the acid started to kick in. I'd basically forgotten I'd taken it, and the shock of Tut taking it hit me again. I knew that if I was getting off he was too, but an odd thing happened. He denied ever feeling any effects from the acid. I thought maybe it was just taking longer for him, plus he'd had a couple of beers by then and I thought maybe he mistook the early effects of the acid as just being buzzed on alcohol, but he said he never got off.
Anything is possible and everyone's chemistry is different but I never knew anyone to take acid and not feel it. It's just too powerful, at least if it's good, and this was. I was starting to really get off. Unlike many people I loved driving while tripping, even heavily. It was like being in a video game. I'd have imaginary lasers with FIRE buttons on the steering wheel, and I'd have endless fun shooting imaginary (but very real-looking) beams at all the other cars. Usually they'd fire back at me. It was a blast. I was really enjoying driving Tut's car and I wanted to go fast again. "Mind if I romp it?" "Sure."
I got the car back to around 115 again. The CRX turned into a spaceship and pretty soon I was blasting away at cars. Tut was cracking up hearing me describe my imaginary battles with the other car'spaceships..."LOOK OUT!" I was certain he had to be getting off too, especially considering how high I was, but he said he didn't feel anything. Then things changed.
Tut had a half-tank or so of fuel. He meant to fill up when we decided to drive to Atlanta but he forgot. I should have paid attention myself but it wasn't my car and I didn't think about it. About 25 miles out of Atlanta the engine sputtered. I looked at the gas gauge and it was pegged on E. Luckily that was the problem although it's a bit different running out of gas at 115mph than it is running out at 70. I had to fight the car a bit but it was fine. I pulled onto the shoulder and hit the flashers. The nearest gas station was one we'd passed about five miles back. We found a container and started walking.
The night was nice and clear and it wasn't that big of a deal to walk. I was tripping good by then and I was rather enjoying it. I love looking at the sky and even with the highway lights it was beautiful. Tut was laughing and saying a few things that sounded a bit "extra funny," but still he insisted he hadn't felt anything. We'd gone a mile or two when I saw a train approaching from about a mile away. I said "come on" and we took off running to the bridge. We leaned out over the edge and watched the entire train pass underneath us.
It was intense. I'm sure it would've scared the shit out of some people, tripping or not, but we were digging it. We were whooping it up and cheering on the train. Again I'm glad we didn't see any cops. After the train passed we resumed walking and talking and we got to the gas station before we knew it. We filled the container and paid for the gas. A kind soul offered us a ride back to the car and that saved us an hour or so. We poured the container into the tank and turned around and headed back to the gas station to fill up, followed by the good Samaritan. We filled up and turned back around and headed for home. Well, the club actually. I got the CRX back up to full speed and resumed my Car Wars. We got back into town in time to catch the second song of the first set from the Cast. It was another example of probably having more fun not seeing a show as seeing one. Shhhh...mum's the word.
Then there's the direct effect the Dead had on my music, specifically playing live. As I mentioned I played a lot of Dead tunes in several bands. Lots of other bands back then did too. When the Grateful Dead played live they'd take great liberties with some of the songs. They'd go into jams and it could be totally different on any given show. We took full advantage of that and we really took it out some nights. We might start a song, go into a jam, play snippets from a few other songs if the mood struck and then go back and finish the song.
I remember one night we played the song "Playing in the Band." It's a classic and it can be stretched to fuck and back if you want. We started off the tune and played until the Dead normally went into the jam part. We played a couple of verses and choruses and then went into a 15-minute jam. Then the guys all dropped out, which meant that they were roping me into a drum solo and I had no choice, so I played about a five-minute solo, and luckily it was one I enjoyed. I was feeling froggy so toward the end of my solo I went into the drum beat that begins the legendary Dave Brubeck tune "Take Five." We played the song anyway although I was just doing the beat as a tease, but the other guys joined in so we went straight into the song, complete with yet another drum solo. We finished Take Five and then morphed back into the Jam from "Playing in the Band," and then went back to the verse and chorus and finally finished the song. It lasted almost an hour and that set was one long continuous piece of music, at least for me.
I did learn some of Billy and Mickey's drum parts but I never tired to emulate then and that wasn't the point anyway. Stay true to the spirit of the song but make it fresh and make it your won...that's what I got from those guys. They weren't the only band to do that but they took it to extremes that few others did. From the Dead drummers I learned a lot, if somewhat indirectly. Jamming made us have to listen to each other more closely, so we could turn on a dime and do it together as one unit if possible. It made me more willing to take chances and try to get the rest of the band to take a leap of faith and jump off the cliff with me and see where it would take us. The Dead were really good at that sort of thing. I appreciate the "lessons." Playing Dead tunes was always a blast and I got to pay tribute to the Shakedown Street record by singing two songs from it- the title track and "I Need a Miracle."
The Dead will never die. Members of the band have played in various combinations since Jerry's death, after a respectful and heartfelt mourning period of course, and they were still playing, until recently that is. More than that we'll have their music, which includes about a billion bootlegs. More still I hope that something remains of the general vibe at the shows, because that kind of vibe is sadly disappearing in this country and everywhere else. That's one reason I'm talking about this. Music history fascinates me and I love reading about bands, so maybe someone will get something out of this.
The community vibe of the Deadheads was impressive. They weren't perfect...some of them sold drugs to support themselves, but for what it's worth almost all Deadheads frowned upon the use of what I call the "stupid" drugs like heroin and meth. They helped each other out, and every now and then there was a miracle. I'll always have a place in my heart for a girl in a tie-dye. I'm a little sad that the kids today will never get to experience anything like a Dead show, because that was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. If a few old-timers can at least share that history with people, maybe some of that spirit can be kept alive. Deadhead or no I'm extremely grateful I got to be a small part of that community. It was inspiring and amazing and wonderful.
Well this definitely was a heck of a lot to say about the Dead for a non-Deadhead. Maybe I'm really a Deadhead at heart. It's rare that a band comes along and there will never be another even remotely like them before or after, not to mention a band that carried its own community around with it...that could never be duplicated. If someone tries to tell you that the Dead are ancient history and aren't worth learning about, don't take that deal. Don't you let that deal go down. RIP Jerry, Donna, Keith, Pigpen, etc. The rest of y'all who are left...I hope you carry on forever. Happy Trails. Viva the Dead. Peace.
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