"Once in awhile you can get shown the light in the strangest of places if you
look at it right."
A friend of mine wrote me an email recently because I looked tired and
dejected at some shows in Chicago... or just "Not Cameron" (a condition
characterized by "fits of irresponsible behavior and minorly hilarious
Turret-like outbursts", according to members of the band)...
I deleted the letter and dismissed the question.
That, right there, should have been my first clue... not responding, at least
in some placatory fashion. "Nah, nah... just not sleeping" or whatever... I
was obviously keeping something down. What it was, I have come to realize, is
that I was scared about the future of this band...
"Will The Real Bob Weir Please Stand Up?"
It was a cold March night in Eugene, cold and quiet at 3:30 in the morning as
I walked from the hotel up the road to the 7-11... there wasn't another soul
stupid enough to be out on this nasty Sunday night/Monday morning yet... no,
everyone else was home, warm in their beds and comfortably dreaming...
I was hungry. How hungry?
Hungry enough to eat a deli sandwich from 7-11 that had probably been made
during the Carter Administration, I'll tell you what.
So here I am, shuffling up the street... it was about a quarter of a mile...
and my mind was wandering as it tends to do when I don't watch it (sometimes
getting into the cleaning supplies or sticking a paper clip in a wall
outlet), and I found myself reviewing what's been going on in the band for
the last four months...
We've had four guitar players join the band , for one thing.
And they HAVE all joined... Rob Eaton, Chopper, John Sabal, and now Bustar
have all come into the band and left their marks... Rob for his truly spooky
Weir-ness (infact, he may be better at Weir than ol' Bob hiz'sef)... Chopper
for his soul and energy, bringing the house down with his Baptist
Revival-style "Lovelight" or a whacked out 'at wit's end' laugh during
"Memphis Blues"... John Sabal for a wailing harp and bringing back the Pigpen
Era, and Bustar for his now blossoming singing talents and cluckin',
pluckin', and crunchin' Bobby guitar work...
None of them have been perfect... Maraat wasn't perfect nor are any of the
rest of us in our given positions in this group... even Rob Eaton for all his
Bob-ness wouldn't play slide...and in over two years of mixing this band and
fourteen in the business of music production, I've learned that perfection is
an illusion. If you pursue it too intently you will slowly lose your marbles
and become an insufferable bastard to work with...
My second clue that something was wrong with my head was Hazdra yelling at me
one night before a gig on this tour in our hotel room followed by requesting
different rooming arrangements at the next stop...
Hazdra and I get along really well, y'all... at least I THOUGHT so... and for
those of you wondering if we've kissed and made up, get a hobby... we're
fine... but I had become said "insufferable bastard"... looking for
perfection in something that at the heart of it always admitted to having
more than it's share of flaws...
Now I'm going to say something here and I want everyone reading this to
understand where I'm coming from when I say it - I DON'T MEAN TO LICK BOOTS
OR KICK SHINS WITH THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT - Please read through to the end
before getting angry and firing off hateful email, OK? I get enough bomb
threats as it is for disrupting the Fundamentalist Christian chat rooms on
AOL...
OK... here goes...
"With the exception (I think) of Rob Eaton, I haven't liked one of the guys
in the Bobby Rotisserie League at the start of their tenure."
I, infact, bristled at the sound of them.
This is not to say that I disliked them as people or hated their guitar
playing or their singing... it just (and again, with the exception of Mr.
Eaton) wasn't "Bob"... Eaton nailed it, but Eaton has a life outside of his
pursuits as a guitar player (like working as a studio engineer for the likes
of Ricky Martin)...
The way I saw it at the time, was that we were never going to get it back...
that the initial charter of this group was forever going to change. The way I
saw it, we were lost... "lacking in some direction"... and quite frankly I
wondered how you the audience was going to cotton to it all... doin' the
"Dead Band Thing" at Martyrs' was one thing with John Sabal or Chopper, but
taking it on the road and expecting people to accept this "Bob-Filler" was an
entirely different matter... because, and I don't want to attach any more
importance to us than is due, people were (and still ARE) becoming used to
the idea that the music did indeed never stop... and that it's in capable and
loving hands...
I was worried that everything we had worked towards was going to wind up
around our ankles, and that folks wouldn't care as much for the illusion we
create if the "Bob" wasn't as eerie-correct as the rest of it.
Chopper was about the worst choice I could think of.
He's got a much higher voice, and none of the growl, grit, and dirt of Bob's
vocals. This is not to say the man can't SING, mind you... I've been a fan of
Chopper's since his days of touring through the midwest with his band Blue
Dixie and I've known him to do a great Steely Dan cover (vocally), but BOB?
No F*ckin' Way.
Sabal is the same story. The vocal was not there, nevermind the guitar (which
I thought he did a fair job at but, "eh.")
Our newest member Bustar got probably the most harsh scruitiny of all of them
from me, and my initial reviews to the band were decidedly not kind... the
guy looked lost all the time and GODDAMMIT what lyric books has this guy been
reading, anyway? Bobby never got all sing-song and clipped in his delivery...
... much...
I thought, basically, that on the cusp of our return to San Fransisco and the
Fillmore we had quite possibly made the worst choice yet in Bustar... and we
had WEEKS to go before, in my mind at the time, we were shut off for good and
we could go back to whatever it is we thought we were doing 'cause it didn't
sound like no Grateful Dead I know of... no sir...
My belief was shaken to it's foundation.
Now...
Chopper went on the road with us to do some midwest gigs, and he ended up
changing my mind... watching this guy play was FUN... nevermind the
lack-o-Bob, he could really work a stage... jumping in with both feet to
emphasize a power chord at the end of "Sugar Magnolia", or singing the
aformentioned "Looks Like Rain" with such tenderness and heartache that it
made my throat clench up, thinking about that one woman I loved and lost...
and everyone at those shows felt the exact same way...
Chopper is ENERGY... Chopper is the story-teller... Chopper is magic.
So bear with me and my warped view, but in Chopper we got a little of the Bob
that used to jump around like a ninny out infront of the monitors... running
up and down the stage like he was David Lee Roth, and you wondered "who put
the rockstar onstage with the good ol' Grateful Dead? Somebody throw a NET
over this guy..."
John Sabal is another guy I've been sort of a fan of for a lot of years... his
band We You They remains one of Chicago's best-kept jam band secrets and the
guy is a sweetheart, but BOB? "Shoot me now."
Sabal was another of these guys we were going to make do with. He's the only
guitarist not to tour with us so far, but I truly wish all of you could have
been there at Martyrs' when the band kicked into that smokey "Viola Lee
Blues" or the feedback-inducing harp on "Easy Wind"... to hear the band
playing material from the Pigpen era (all but a no-show in the last two-plus
years) was joyous to the core of what this music is all about... people
freaked.
So bless you, Mr. Sabal, for bringing Pigpen to us in light of giving us a
solid Bob... I would consider it a pleasure to mix him in with the orchestra
anytime he sees fit to put a harmonica in his pocket and amble onstage...
Bustar, well... I've told you how it STARTED... now, with most of this tour
done and all those dreaded weeks behind us, lemme tell you how i see it
"finishing"...
Bustar has, on all fronts, proven me wrong in my initial assessments... his
guitar work is VERY Bob-like, at times even (dare I say it?) improving on old
vamps or guitar lines and giving them an interesting tone that Bob, had he
gotten around to it, might have come up with... I can site the bar-bending
and spooky stuff during a wandering "Estimated Prophet" end jam in Eugene, or
the delay work on "China Cat" at the Fox just last night off the top of my
head as moments I will look back on with a big smile when recounting the
days... and his vocal has come leaps and bounds, getting that dirt I was
talking about, the growl... and leaving the sing-song nature behind. Vocally,
he's been the best in terms of getting that grit of all of them, Mr. Eaton
being the exception...
... wait a minute... fair is fair.
I need to rip on Rob Eaton for a sec...
"El Paso."
But seriously, folks... try the salad bar... I'll be here all week...
So here I am on the streets of Eugene, desparate for egg salad at 3:30am
(which, by the way, I GOT) walking in the cold... when it came to me that
we're truly becoming an orchestra, that all the players to emerge on our
stage have been and will continue to be a vital part of this band's living
history... and I realized I owed them all a huge thank you for helping us in
our time of need and keeping me from having to get a real job...
That's when I saw the sign.
It was a car wash, with one of those signs where you can spell out anything
you want to say in big black letters... it said:
"You May Already Have What You've Been Wishing For."
To quote the more acid-damaged of us...
"Oh Wow."
It was an epiphony.
In these four guitarists (and possibly more in time), we had found a
future... we were gonna get by, we'd survive... I encourage you all to check
out a "different flavor" if all you've heard is Maraat... or Chopper... or
Sabal... or Bustar...
... or if you've never heard us ever (I suppose there are a few out there),
because they're all pretty special and talented fuckers to a one (sorry
'bout the "F" word mom, but sometimes writing can be ugly)...
Welcome to the orchestra boys... and thanks Kari... you are directly
responsible for this Road Rash entry.
"...And the band keeps playin' on..."
See Ya Around The Playground, Kids.