• October 19, 2012
    http://www.dead.net/features/blairs-golden-road-blog/blairs-golden-road-blog-bob-weir-65-appreciation
    Blair's Golden Road Blog-Bob Weir at 65: An Appreciation

    “Nooooooooooo!” I can hear my cry in a very hazy memory. April 2, 1973. The house lights dim, a roar builds steadily in the crowd and grows to a deafening din as the band members amble onto the stage at the Boston Garden. As the spotlights brighten, I squint from my perch near the top of the upper level of the enormous arena. Something doesn't look right onstage. “What the-?” Oh, my God, Bob Weir's ponytail is gone! Jeez, you don't see the band for eight months and all hell breaks loose.

    Did it matter? Of course not! I'm mostly kidding, but in some way, the disappearance of that ponytail, which cascaded so elegantly down the middle of his back, felt like another sign that the band was leaving its hippie past behind and that young Bob, just 25 at the time, was—gasp!—growing up. I was about to turn 20 and wanted to be Bob Weir—not that I had an ounce of musical talent. But I dug the look and I loved what he brought to the Grateful Dead's unique chemistry. To me, he was the essence of hippie cool. My first Bob was the Cosmic Cowboy one; I'd missed the beautiful young androgyne by a couple of years.

    Bob was the Wild One. He was the rock 'n' roller, but also the confident, smooth-voiced narrator on all those dramatic country-rock numbers about desperados and fugitives; a perfect fit for those tunes. He was the guy who would screech and scream himself hoarse at the end of the show, whipping us into a dancing frenzy. He was the droll, wise-cracking emcee informing us that the band would resume playing after technical gremlins had been extinguished and everything was “just exactly perfect.” In the early days, he even told a few bad jokes. What a prankster. Seems as though he was never far from a smile or a smirk.

    Except sometimes when he was playing—then he'd often have that look of intense, focused concentration, as he conjured endless creative guitar lines that provided an ever-moving rhythmic center in the heart of the group's sound. Labeling him a “rhythm guitarist” always felt horribly inadequate, because he wasn't some guy just chopping out simple chords in a conventional pop music way. Rather, he used an immense musical vocabulary and deft touch to construct sophisticated parts that were both rhythmically assured and amazingly nuanced.

    I have this picture in my head of him standing in a semicircle with Phil and Jerry in the early '70s blasting through the nether regions of “Dark Star,” or maybe “Playing in the Band,” and he's hunched over his big Gibson, his whole body in fluid motion, and you can practically see how the parts all fall together organically. One moment he's grinning at some miraculous turn the jam has taken, the next he shakes his head, flips the hair out of his eyes and looks up into the lights as if he's wondering where it can go next. I get excited just thinking about that dynamic interplay—that's what turned me into a Dead Head in 1970, at the age of 16, and what has nourished my soul ever since.

    Of course there were also the songs, and Bob co-wrote many of my favorites from my first years seeing band—“The Other One,” “Jack Straw,” “Truckin',” “Sugar Magnolia,” “Playing in the Band,” “Greatest Story Ever Told,” “Mexicali Blues,” “Weather Report Suite”—all completely different one to the next, each a glimpse into a different world. Later, I was knocked out by “The Music Never Stopped” and “Estimated Prophet,” “Feel Like a Stranger” and the still-amazing combo of “Lost Sailor” and “Saint of Circumstance.” I got my early education in country music listening to Bob sing “El Paso,” “Mama Tried,” “Dark Hollow,” “Silver Threads and Golden Needles,” “The Race Is On” and “Big River,” and as time went on he provided new windows through which to view Dylan classics, old blues and so much more.

    Basically, I'll follow him anywhere. I haven't loved every band he's been in or every song he's written. But he's earned my eternal respect and admiration for continually pushing boundaries and moving forward in a way that is so idiosyncratic—so … Bob!—that I want to be a part of and support whatever it is.

    I first interviewed Bob for The Golden Road in the late '80s and instantly learned that what everyone in the Dead scene had told me through the years was true: he's a sweetheart! (It's a word you hear applied to him by both men and women.) He's warm, friendly, thoughtful, possesses a dry wit and has a surprisingly good and detailed memory (a boon to those of us who pester him with historical questions). I've never seen him be anything but polite to those around him, and in the dozen or so interviews I've done with him in the past 20 years—some on the phone, most in person—he has never really spoken ill of anyone. Which is not to say he lacks opinions or is uncritical. But he tends to give people the benefit of the doubt and he seems to have an inherent faith that things can and perhaps will work out for the best. His track record for giving his time unselfishly for benefits speaks for itself—and to his optimism.

    On his most recent birthday, October 16, Bob hit 65, retirement age for many. His bushy grey-white prospector's beard almost makes him look his age for the first time (when The Warlocks started, he was 17 and looked about 14; in his early 40s, he looked 10 years younger), but fortunately for all of us he has not slowed down one bit. Maybe he's just trying to keep up with his GD elders—that indefatigable wonder of nature Phil (72), Mickey (69) and Bill (66). Nah, he just loves his job. Playing music is what musicians do. Age is just number (says the writer, pushing 60).

    Look at just some of the great work Bob has done the past couple of years: Multiple tours with Furthur; his extraordinary collaboration with the Marin Symphony; a handful of shows with RatDog (here's hoping for a RatDog tour in 2013!) and Scaring the Children (with Rob Wasserman and Jay Lane); fine music from his acoustic trio with Chris Robinson and Jackie Greene; a bunch o' solo shows, plus appearances with Bruce Hornsby and Branford Marsalis; and sit-ins with such disparate acts as 7 Walkers, Jackie Greene, Slightly Stoopid, The National and God Street Wine. Those last few were at Bob's magnificent high-def audio-video facility in San Rafael, Calif., TRI Studios. Bob has been extremely generous in sharing TRI with a broad spectrum of different artists, and is helping to pioneer a new era of high-quality music distribution over the Internet.

    So here's a virtual toast to Bob on this auspicious occasion. You've done more for us than you'll ever know, and we're all counting on being able to celebrate 70, 75 and beyond with you! I know this song, it ain't never gonna end!

    Care to share some nice thoughts/memories about Bob Weir?

    359691
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“Nooooooooooo!” I can hear my cry in a very hazy memory. April 2, 1973. The house lights dim, a roar builds steadily in the crowd and grows to a deafening din as the band members amble onto the stage at the Boston Garden. As the spotlights brighten, I squint from my perch near the top of the upper level of the enormous arena. Something doesn't look right onstage. “What the-?” Oh, my God, Bob Weir's ponytail is gone! Jeez, you don't see the band for eight months and all hell breaks loose.

Did it matter? Of course not! I'm mostly kidding, but in some way, the disappearance of that ponytail, which cascaded so elegantly down the middle of his back, felt like another sign that the band was leaving its hippie past behind and that young Bob, just 25 at the time, was—gasp!—growing up. I was about to turn 20 and wanted to be Bob Weir—not that I had an ounce of musical talent. But I dug the look and I loved what he brought to the Grateful Dead's unique chemistry. To me, he was the essence of hippie cool. My first Bob was the Cosmic Cowboy one; I'd missed the beautiful young androgyne by a couple of years.

Bob was the Wild One. He was the rock 'n' roller, but also the confident, smooth-voiced narrator on all those dramatic country-rock numbers about desperados and fugitives; a perfect fit for those tunes. He was the guy who would screech and scream himself hoarse at the end of the show, whipping us into a dancing frenzy. He was the droll, wise-cracking emcee informing us that the band would resume playing after technical gremlins had been extinguished and everything was “just exactly perfect.” In the early days, he even told a few bad jokes. What a prankster. Seems as though he was never far from a smile or a smirk.

Except sometimes when he was playing—then he'd often have that look of intense, focused concentration, as he conjured endless creative guitar lines that provided an ever-moving rhythmic center in the heart of the group's sound. Labeling him a “rhythm guitarist” always felt horribly inadequate, because he wasn't some guy just chopping out simple chords in a conventional pop music way. Rather, he used an immense musical vocabulary and deft touch to construct sophisticated parts that were both rhythmically assured and amazingly nuanced.

I have this picture in my head of him standing in a semicircle with Phil and Jerry in the early '70s blasting through the nether regions of “Dark Star,” or maybe “Playing in the Band,” and he's hunched over his big Gibson, his whole body in fluid motion, and you can practically see how the parts all fall together organically. One moment he's grinning at some miraculous turn the jam has taken, the next he shakes his head, flips the hair out of his eyes and looks up into the lights as if he's wondering where it can go next. I get excited just thinking about that dynamic interplay—that's what turned me into a Dead Head in 1970, at the age of 16, and what has nourished my soul ever since.

Of course there were also the songs, and Bob co-wrote many of my favorites from my first years seeing band—“The Other One,” “Jack Straw,” “Truckin',” “Sugar Magnolia,” “Playing in the Band,” “Greatest Story Ever Told,” “Mexicali Blues,” “Weather Report Suite”—all completely different one to the next, each a glimpse into a different world. Later, I was knocked out by “The Music Never Stopped” and “Estimated Prophet,” “Feel Like a Stranger” and the still-amazing combo of “Lost Sailor” and “Saint of Circumstance.” I got my early education in country music listening to Bob sing “El Paso,” “Mama Tried,” “Dark Hollow,” “Silver Threads and Golden Needles,” “The Race Is On” and “Big River,” and as time went on he provided new windows through which to view Dylan classics, old blues and so much more.

Basically, I'll follow him anywhere. I haven't loved every band he's been in or every song he's written. But he's earned my eternal respect and admiration for continually pushing boundaries and moving forward in a way that is so idiosyncratic—so … Bob!—that I want to be a part of and support whatever it is.

I first interviewed Bob for The Golden Road in the late '80s and instantly learned that what everyone in the Dead scene had told me through the years was true: he's a sweetheart! (It's a word you hear applied to him by both men and women.) He's warm, friendly, thoughtful, possesses a dry wit and has a surprisingly good and detailed memory (a boon to those of us who pester him with historical questions). I've never seen him be anything but polite to those around him, and in the dozen or so interviews I've done with him in the past 20 years—some on the phone, most in person—he has never really spoken ill of anyone. Which is not to say he lacks opinions or is uncritical. But he tends to give people the benefit of the doubt and he seems to have an inherent faith that things can and perhaps will work out for the best. His track record for giving his time unselfishly for benefits speaks for itself—and to his optimism.

On his most recent birthday, October 16, Bob hit 65, retirement age for many. His bushy grey-white prospector's beard almost makes him look his age for the first time (when The Warlocks started, he was 17 and looked about 14; in his early 40s, he looked 10 years younger), but fortunately for all of us he has not slowed down one bit. Maybe he's just trying to keep up with his GD elders—that indefatigable wonder of nature Phil (72), Mickey (69) and Bill (66). Nah, he just loves his job. Playing music is what musicians do. Age is just number (says the writer, pushing 60).

Look at just some of the great work Bob has done the past couple of years: Multiple tours with Furthur; his extraordinary collaboration with the Marin Symphony; a handful of shows with RatDog (here's hoping for a RatDog tour in 2013!) and Scaring the Children (with Rob Wasserman and Jay Lane); fine music from his acoustic trio with Chris Robinson and Jackie Greene; a bunch o' solo shows, plus appearances with Bruce Hornsby and Branford Marsalis; and sit-ins with such disparate acts as 7 Walkers, Jackie Greene, Slightly Stoopid, The National and God Street Wine. Those last few were at Bob's magnificent high-def audio-video facility in San Rafael, Calif., TRI Studios. Bob has been extremely generous in sharing TRI with a broad spectrum of different artists, and is helping to pioneer a new era of high-quality music distribution over the Internet.

So here's a virtual toast to Bob on this auspicious occasion. You've done more for us than you'll ever know, and we're all counting on being able to celebrate 70, 75 and beyond with you! I know this song, it ain't never gonna end!

Care to share some nice thoughts/memories about Bob Weir?

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“Nooooooooooo!” I can hear my cry in a very hazy memory. April 2, 1973. The house lights dim, a roar builds steadily in the crowd and grows to a deafening din as the band members amble onto the stage at the Boston Garden. As the spotlights brighten, I squint from my perch near the top of the upper level of the enormous arena. Something doesn't look right onstage. “What the-?” Oh, my God, Bob Weir's ponytail is gone! Jeez, you don't see the band for eight months and all hell breaks loose.

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Not enough can be said about Bob's ability on the guitar! Most of us who fool around from time to time on the 6 string and are drawn to the music of the Grateful Dead tend to settle into a comfortable progression of chords and a few Identifiable "licks" that were supplied by Jerry. But as I play more and get into the music even deeper, the contributions from Bobby become even more apparent. His chord voicing's and fretwork have opened up a whole new can of worms on how the guitar can be played! Thanks Bob for showing me the possibilities beyond the normal.
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Bob's hands and mind have been sculpting time into pleasing portions for as long as I've been aware of him. I never get tired of hearing him play and join Blair Jackson in hoping he stays at it for many more years. Back in the early 1970's, on the roof of the gym at Bethesda, MD's Walt Whitman High School, someone painted "I love Bob Weir." You don't see that kind of graffiti much anymore, but there are many thousands of us out here who deeply appreciate a characteristic once summed up by Steve Kimock (in, as it happens, Blair's blog "Steve Kimock to the Rescue! A Few Minutes with the Master Guitarist"): "There’s so much cool stuff that guy plays! Most of the time when Garcia was singing, he was just playing the chords under it—first position stuff—but then there’s all this hip shit that Weir was playing. I’m like, “Good grief, how does he come up with this stuff?” Best regards to you Bob--you seem always to have known that you get back what you give, and you have given tons.
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I don't have the skill or the knowledge to say it as well as Blair does. Perhaps it's found as the Band lifts off during a 73 Playing jam, or when Bob steers the ship from Dark Star into Sugar Mag in 72. That unmistakable glint of gold in the miner's pan. Or maybe it's found as he's breathing new life into a Dylan tune, or escaping through the lily fields. My favorite Bob moments- Pick any show and you'll find them.
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only those who risk going too far possibly know how far one can go-t.s. eliot - happy birthday bob!!!
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Sublime vocal phrasing. Superb slide guitar playing. Thank you, Bobby, for the infinite musical joy that you have given over the decades,
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As I was getting to understand Grateful Dead music, back when (though still at it, now), I liked these meanings for the word "weir" that seemed to fit (as well as a thing can be fit to something flowing) a playing role that Bob maybe had created for himself by the time my ears were coming along to it (early 1970s): "a low dam in a river to divert water, as for a mill," and "an obstruction [sic] placed in a stream, diverting the water through a prepared aperture for measuring the rate of flow" (taking any notion of obstruction very lightly). And he's such a good partner in performance humor, of many kinds. Just two aspects of innumerable qualities from this man Bob Weir. Thanks so much, Bob.
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Thank you for the inspired music over the years. it must have been the dreaded "bee pollen'. But whatever it was(talent) it continues to sustain you and thus, in turn, us, the fans. Keep those songs, in challenging time signatures, coming!
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I was always intrigued listening to interviews with the band. A NY disc jockey was with Mr. Weir. He wanted some insights on the songs he wrote. Asking, in general, how songs come about and what do the represent. Mr. Weir doesn't really give an answer and zero specifics. The DJ gets frustrated and says well whats the first thing you think of about the song Playing In The Band. Mr. Weir doesn't hesitate " The key of E"
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Being quite new to the Dead in '86 I was curious when they came to town to help us celebrate the 4th in Buffalo. A year ahead of In The Dark, somehow Deadheads started to spring up in my little town of Williamsville. My crew (if you could call us that) and I were all about 60's music and it seemed logical that seeing the Dead would be a required date. I knew the hits and definitely knew who Garcia was but the rest of the band seemed like this amorphous entity. I could tell you stories about that day that would curl your hair but I'll never forget how my 1st show started. Eyes on Jerry as they hit the stage but Bob kept drawing my attention. He seemed such the non-star, not in the Jerry sense of shunning the spotlight, but rather he seemed like he just happened to just amble on stage. Fiddling with his stack...making short strides back and forth. Then they kicked into Jack Straw with Bobby in classic form (didnt know it at the time) belting out those amazing lyrics with clarity and an edge of restraint. As the song built, all I kept saying to myself was "Who the fuck is this guy?" I mean Jerry I knew...but where did this guy come from? It was hilarious. As time and more shows went on I developed a deeper realization of just how innovative and original he is. I'll never forget a full blown argument with some "Dead Than Thou" "sisters" from Oregon one show who insisted Bobby was degrading the purity of the band by his theatrics. Get a clue honey. I caught Ratdog on back to back nights in '05 (Erie>Buffalo) while I was going through my marriage flaming out and I can truly say that Bobby not only saved me from doing something really life altering in a very bad way, he also helped me get on with things. Sounds extreme huh? It's true. Happy B-Day Bobby. Many more. Thanks for everything.
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wow just remembered 10/16,17,18,19,20,1974 38yrs ago what a great week time wow my mind is still blown!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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I've read so many times peoples complaints of Mr. Weir allegedly trying to "steal" the show in the later years...Really, this sounded to me more like an inability to accept that Jerry was weakening and just not always as big a presence, and I love Bob's 'theatrics' of later years- he really stepped up; added some great new licks, harmonics and interesting sounds. Given he was the youngest, most vulnerable and fried of the group in the late sixties and even faced some heavy criticism from his band mates, Bob really met the challenge and grew tremendously. And cook me up with some grits if you can't hear his innovations and potential as early as some great '68 gigs. Love you, Bob. Bless and thanks for being an integral part of the best band that ever was.
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Face it, in the 70's ,I was full blown deadhead from 72-78, The Captain was always Jerry, whose lead guitar and breathtaking jams were something to behold, but myself, I always had an affinity for Bobby, I had the hair down to the waist, and looked a good deal like him at that time, and he was no schlock at being a guitarist, he was not a rhythm guitarist per normal, I mean it was not like Duane and Dicky of the Allman Brothers playing harmony guitar parts. Much more subtle than that and difficult at what he was doing, Take the great China Cat Sunflower, I didn't notice this at first, but there are like 2 lead parts making that delicate bounce. Bobby, your the best, May the 4 winds take you Home! God Bless!!
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Love Bobby to bits - just wish he'd ditch Furthur for Ratdog! There's no Pigpen in Furthur, no sass, no R&B, no real rock 'n roll; and that's what PPig & Bobby brought to the Dead, which Bobby carried over into Ratdog, and which sadly for this feller is not there in Furthur. Regardless, Happy Birthday Bobby and keep on rocking...
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Thank you for all the music. Thank you for 7/18/82, my first show. Remember 6/9/90 Cassidy? That experience led to my giving that name to one of my children. Get back Truckin' on, Bob, stoltzfus
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Yeah Bob Weird, the kid, the Other One, the youngerster, the macrobioioticrockgod, the wonderkin, the sprite, the dreamer, the seven, eightninetEN, the Lost Sailor. NineteenEighty? SantaCruz at the Catalyst, Bob and the Midnites with Bobby Cochren on guitar played some get down dancin tunes and I remember meeting a guy who had tye-dye a LaCross shirt for Bob and he wore it for the show, but with the Bob allterations of cutting the sleeves off.Yeah Bobby Happy Times Bobby
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No Weir, no Dead. Obviously. Sure, Mickey and the Heartbeats were interesting and good, but not even close to 1968 Grateful Dead. There's no Grateful Dead without Weir, period. I only saw Bobby once outside of a Dead concert. It was about 15 years ago at the San Francisco Symphony. It was just before one of the first "Further" tours I believe. Bob, Phil, and Mickey were sitting a few rows in front of me in the Loge section. I can't remember what the program was except it was all 20th century composers and was conducted by Michael Tilson Thomas. They were all well-dressed and behaved, but Bob was sitting cross-legged "yoga" style on his seat. Dude!- you're at the symphony! hehe Happy B-day Bob and thanks for everything.
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why hasnt this show been realesed? the only HDCD we have from 10/72 to 9/73 is 2/26&2/28/73!!! :(
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There is a wonderful write up on Bob in Alec Wilkerson's book, Mr. Apology and Other Essays called One Green Dog.I'd read most of what was in print about the Dead but hadn't come across this until recently. The essay is from the 90s, after Jerry died, I think 98. Most of Wilkerson's essays seem to be about real life characters who are a bit removed from the mainstream, outsiders or misfits; and, I think he describes Weir as a misfit in group of misfits (paraphrasing). It's definitely worth seeking out for any Deadhead. I'd recomend finding a used copy of the book--there's a lot of other good essays in there.
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In Saratoga 85 we stayed in a hotel and Weir was on the same floor. The afternoon of the show we were listening to a '71 show with the door open. At some point during the tape Weir says the "hey Phil my dog has no nose..........." joke. Well don't you know that halfway during the first set that night Weir walks up to the mic, looks over at Phil with a big grin on his face and says "Hey Phil my dog has no nose.........". Coincidence.... I think not..
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Hey All, July 7, 1986: Hazy,Hot, and Humid day at RFK. Recall the Satisfaction Encore. This is classic Weir. Flubs his rhyme rap and says "Fuck it" then "We'd also like to fuck,uh thank Mr. Phillip Lesh on the bass..." Garcia:"One of my favorite people in the whole wide World , Mr. Bob Weir!" 'Nuff said... ("Check the transcripts"--Obama)... shwack in nh
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I was part of that gang in the room at the Hotel. As a matter of fact, we had just unpacked our luggage, boombox, opened up the cooler and cracked a beer. I was playing my bootleg copy (radio broadcast) from the Harding Theatre 11/7/71. There was alot of dead air during the broadcast due to technical difficulties and so on. We were blown away when a few hours later we heard the band break that out during the first set...Yo butch, don't hang off the balcony!A few years later, we caught up with Billy and Brent at Lupo's (Kokomo?) in Providence. They were in a limo and I went up to the window, Brent opened it and I proceeded to start off the joke. He then jumped in and I finished it. Classic! Those were cherished moments. Stagger Lee.
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Bob was/is for me in my teens, 20's and beyond what Bugs Bunny was for me when I was toddler . . . I leave the connection to the reader. Happy belated birthday, Bob! Eagle
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that was Go Ahead at Lupo's!!! and old buddy since passed said go ahead i ain't going its gonna be a zzzzzzzzzzz fest!!!
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I met Bob at a show on Long Island's Jones Beach in 2001 and he could not have been nicer. He talked to me for about 5 minutes until some younger heads came over yelling at him to play "Salt Lake City " and sign some shit for them. He looked at me and the people I was with apologetically and said he had to go. Thank Bob for everything and Happy Bday!
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Sometime ago Bob did a live radio interview for a rock station in Baltimore. The DJ asked Bob what was the strangest thing he every saw on stage....after a pause and queit laugh, he said this (close to this).. It was on the final night at the pyramids and the dead's show light were the brightest thing for miles.. Well, the lights attracted bugs wihich then attracted large bats. The were swarming all around the stage.. After viewing some of the film from those shows , I SEE what he means. I'm sure Bob saw many funny things during live shows...happy belated B-day, great person he seems see you guys down the road
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I had some friends in grad school who hated Bob. I suppose they still do. I had always liked Bob and for me the "Bob songs" were usually more rockin' at shows in the 1980s and 1990s. For those of us who joined the bus in the 1980s or 1990s, we had to get past the Daisy Duke shorts and pink polo shirts. Once you did that, Bob was golden. I have greatly enjoyed all of Bob Weir's post-Dead incarnations and have fond memories of Ratdog at the Kalamazoo State Theater in the early 2000s. At the Alpine reunion shows in 2002, the first night was a lackluster show (IMO) and I told my friends before the next night's show that Ratdog would get the house going. Ratdog delivered and the Dead built upon that to have a really good night two. Thanks Bob and keep rockin'.
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In reading my Dead history, I recall being amused by the image of Weir sleeping on the couch on Asbury St. while Neal Cassidy rapped and juggled his hammer in the living room, just soaking up that flow. My personal favorite Bob story was the one about dropping the water balloon on the cop investigating the car out front, who had no idea where it came from until Bob walked by and smiled at him, leading to the lyric "busted me for smiling on a cloudy day." I also remember the interviewer asking him if he would ever get the words right to "Truckin'," to which he answered, "Doesn't bother me." At the beginning, I had some problem with Bob personally because of the wicked crush my girl/then wife had on him; that is tough competition. I have always loved his contributions musically to the texture, spirit and dynamics of the Grateful Dead, but my favorite of all is the screaming. Best screamer in Rock'n'Roll. Keep on Bob!
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i just recently saw further for the first time, and personally, i kinda wish that bob and phil would go back to ratdog and phil and friends. now i think that further is more like phil/friends, but still, i like their own personal takes on their music. i miss ratdog! i miss mark karen, the sax, etc. and i really liked phil when he would have 2 true lead guitar players, like when warren and jimmy were his 2 guitarists. that was the awesome! but whatever makes those boys happy, makes me happy! thanks bobby, for a real good time!!!
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...
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About 30 years ago Bob Weir was crowned the nicest person of the year to interview by a Swedish newspaper. So I guess HE IS a sweetheart! I have just met him briefly at the 1990 Europe Tour press conference in Stockholm. Nicest of the members then, to me, was Vince Welnick. Nobody was rude, of course. Micke Östlund, Växjö, Sweden
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Weir is a fine guitar player and great stylist. And HE HAS GREAT MUSICAL TASTE. His covers are just unbelievably well chosen and played. Thank goodness he kept writing for the GD when Jerry was mailing it in. (Standing On The Moon, really??? Did that take like an hour to write?) My favorite Weir cut, from all the tapes and CDs, is Playing In The Band from the Rockin The Rhein bonus disc. Weir's voice is shot, but he keeps belting and slurring out those great lyrics, and man oh man they just play that song like their lives depend on it. Ten minutes of insanity, psychedelic rocket juice, all-hands on deck. If you do not know it, try it. It will blow you away. Thank you Bob Weir.
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...is easily among my favorite Hunter-Garcia songs. I love everything about it. And Bobby does it really well, too...
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You can't spell weird without spelling weir, and he's the guy who gave the Grateful Dead that wild, unpredictable flavor, the "call of the weird" someone once said; a completely original guitarist who plays like no one else. Chords from outer space! Yellow dog stories! It was all just exactly perfect... Thanks for all of it, Bobby!
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    Sugarmagkauai
    6 years 1 month ago
    Happy Birthday Bob!
    You can't spell weird without spelling weir, and he's the guy who gave the Grateful Dead that wild, unpredictable flavor, the "call of the weird" someone once said; a completely original guitarist who plays like no one else. Chords from outer space! Yellow dog stories! It was all just exactly perfect... Thanks for all of it, Bobby!
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    blairj
    6 years 1 month ago
    Standing on the Moon...
    ...is easily among my favorite Hunter-Garcia songs. I love everything about it. And Bobby does it really well, too...
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    danc
    6 years 1 month ago
    he's amazing
    Weir is a fine guitar player and great stylist. And HE HAS GREAT MUSICAL TASTE. His covers are just unbelievably well chosen and played. Thank goodness he kept writing for the GD when Jerry was mailing it in. (Standing On The Moon, really??? Did that take like an hour to write?) My favorite Weir cut, from all the tapes and CDs, is Playing In The Band from the Rockin The Rhein bonus disc. Weir's voice is shot, but he keeps belting and slurring out those great lyrics, and man oh man they just play that song like their lives depend on it. Ten minutes of insanity, psychedelic rocket juice, all-hands on deck. If you do not know it, try it. It will blow you away. Thank you Bob Weir.