Russell’s Round Room – stand for jam

The Day the Music Died: Las Vegas & Tom Petty

by Russell S. Glowatz

Yesterday I woke up to news alerts on my phone – another shooting, what else is new? While relatively numb to this uniquely American phenomenon, this mass tragedy was immensely different – music festival goers were violently gunned down in Las Vegas. This one hit close to home – music was under assault. Thinking the day couldn’t possibly get worse, the news came through that Tom Petty was found in cardiac arrest and unresponsive – again thinking the day couldn’t possibly get worse, false reports of his death came through the airwaves spiraling Monday into a foggy haze of misinformation. While reports of his death were premature, he would later slip this mortal coil and join the likes of his Traveling Wilburys compatriots, Roy Orbison and George Harrison.

I cannot help but think of the day George Harrison passed away. Too young, too soon, dreariness draped that otherwise serene fall afternoon. Yesterday was similarly beautiful and became immensely ickier – the worst mass shooting in U.S. history, coupled with the death of a Mount Rushmore level rock icon, brought us to the precipice of emotional chaos – then our hearts were collectively thrown in a blender, muddied with media misinformation. Now with the knowledge of what actually occurred, America sits in mourning. Music was burned on both ends of the candle yesterday – the audience attacked, and a performer taken down.

The day the music died 2.0 – was this what fans felt like that fateful moment discovering the destiny of Buddy, Ritchie, and the Big Bopper? The emotional stew we find ourselves in must have been similar to what was experienced in February of ’59. Yet they survived, and so will we – and the music never really died at all, did it? Within a few short years, the rock ‘n’ roll scene thrived like never before, as will the festival scene, and the music scene at large right now. I have a feeling we won’t miss a beat – however the cold harsh reality now exists that music festivals, concerts, and gatherings are now active targets of terrorism, domestic or otherwise.

Vigilance is now necessary – our favorite escape from the mediocrity of daily existence has been tarnished by the violence of the outside world. How we go about making our scene safe for fans and performers alike at outdoor music events is very much above my pay grade, yet I’m sure the right people are already working on plans. Hopefully they strike a proper balance between security and serenity.

One way or another, the show must go on, and it will go on. In memoriam of Tom Petty and festival goers gunned down, tribute concerts and events are already being planned – and coincidentally one event that was already in play will now be a fitting memorial. Tom Petty’s music will radiate brightly across the world as we come to terms with these monumental losses. Precautions will be taken, and our escape from the day-to-day will be upheld. Music was violated, yet music will be the very thing that heals us all. “One way or another, this darkness got to give,” and as Mickey Hart poignantly said in response to the Paris attacks on the Bataclan and elsewhere, nearly two years ago, “music is the best healing agent we know.” Music is our lifeblood, one of our quintessential reasons for being, and it can never be silenced.

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Vibrating With Love, Light & Phish – The Baker’s Dozen Revisited

The Love is in The Journey, and the Juice Was Worth the Squeeze

Screenshot via LivePhish – 8/6/17 – Glaze

by Russell S. Glowatz

It all began with a chance encounter with Sam Cutler at the Joe Russo’s Almost Dead show on July 21, 2017. An epic weekend was sprawled out before me, beginning with JRAD, before catapulting head first into The Baker’s Dozen on night two – strawberry donut night. Sam was extremely gracious – we discussed his part in Long Strange Trip, and he took a moment to take a photograph. I was enamored by the meeting, and thought it to be a good omen setting out upon my musical journey. Little did I know that only a few days later, Sam would head to a Phish show as well, proceeding to sodomize our favorite band in a scathing Facebook review.

The encounter and subsequent “eff you” he laid out in glorious fashion on the internet, highlights the intricate web that’s often weaved when seeing Phish. That photo of us was first a point of pride, yet quickly became a moment of chagrin before swiftly transcending into the hilarious heirloom it currently remains. It’s a mix of kismet and karma, with a dash of humor, and the joke is always on us! Over the course of The Baker’s Dozen, Phish enthralled us with what they do best – a fusion of supreme song, epic jams, and harmonious humor running the gamut from donut themes, to transcendent “Lawn Boy” improvisation. As a clan we pick up on the synchronicity and jocularity, throw it back in the bands face, only for them to flip it back on us.

Via LivePhish webcast – Intermission – 8/4/17 – Lemon

Recently laid off, setting out upon the world of donuts was going to be a frugal affair by necessity. Budget and logistics permitting, I would be lucky to attend two of these shows – maybe three if the donut-shaped universe was on my side. Little did I know that when all was said and done, I’d have the pleasure to experience seven glorious Baker’s Dozen performances in person, with a few more on the couch to boot – and through all of this, I still had a few bucks in the bank at the end of session. It was the most pleasant surprise, and served as a stupendous silver lining atop of my newfound unemployment.

Perched at my seat in the riser section for night two, my first foray into a world that runs on dunkin’, a Phan walked by and handed me a fresh pack of pocket tissues – He said “You’re gonna need these bro – You’re gonna cry tonight!” While tears never materialized (until “On The Road Again” of course) , I certainly cried “Joy” on the inside, and this portable pack of tissues came in handy for the entirety of the run. Every night I carried those tissues in my pocket, and nearly every night they were used by myself or a Phan in need nearby. And when the mid-run Baker’s Dozen wook flu hit me like a bat out of hell, the tissues were there to soothe my soul. Thank you tissue man, not only for gifting me extremely handy show gear, but for reminding me that with the right attitude, you will always get what you need when you need it, if you give what you can when you can.

The law of attraction on steroids is often what many experience at shows and festivals, and this small yet relevant tissue saga serves to highlight that phenomenon. Little karmic anomalies dotted my whole run at YEMSG, from buying a bar stool ticket by accident on Jam night (turned out to be the best mistake ever!) to getting a miracle ticket on Powder night. That miracle ticket led me to taking in a show with one of my oldest friends – we haven’t been at Phish together since Jones Beach on the reunion tour, so it was a special moment to say the least – we partied like it was 2009. Showing up on Maple night with the expectation of a Jerry song (since it was his 75th birthday) – and getting a Drums & Space nod mid “46 Days” – plus a “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” encore instead – reminded me to never have expectations at a Phish show. When I showed up with zero expectations the next night to Holes, I was rewarded with one of the greatest shows of my lifetime. With positivity and a heightened karmic awareness, synchronicity is boundless – and as a collective we achieved something otherworldly at The Baker’s Dozen – not everyone in the building felt it – yet most did – Lift off!

When it comes down to it, we all know it’s more than just a show, just a run, or just a festival – this is a community, our community, a lifestyle we choose to live and love. The Baker’s Dozen embodied the goodness that the Phish community offers in the most magnificent way. We laughed, we danced, we cried, we sang. We were stupefied, awestruck, amazed, and blazed. We made new phriends, met up with old compatriots, and ran into folks we never thought we’d see again. We tried new things, like Section 119 Spicy Chicken Sandwiches, or “Strawberry Letter 23” – And we basked in the familiarity of old things, like a favorite Phish t-shirt, Trey’s spaced guitar face, and the Meatstick Dance. This was more than a residency of shows – this was a fleeting love affair with a band beyond description and its eclectic followers. The feeling will certainly be revisited at shows in the future, yet it will be different by then – a different time, a different space, a different energy.

If one could bottle the dynamism of The Baker’s Dozen and distribute it far and wide, it wouldn’t be The Baker’s Dozen anymore. Just like everyone that experienced The Great Went, Big Cypress, Lemonwheel, or IT, this run slipped through our fingers as quickly as it arrived – and that’s the beauty of it! For a meteoric moment in time we experienced a flash in a pan, so bright, so beautiful, so full of boundless love, we’ll take memories of it with us through the rest of our existence. Now it lives in our photographs, videos, the soundboards, and our collective consciousness for eternity. This was a redefining run for Phish – and for me – an array of events that has catapulted my life and creative sensibilities in a new direction. All these weeks later, with a New Year’s extravaganza on the horizon, I’m still buzzing, as I’m sure are many of you.

Photo Credit – René Huemer – Phish From The Road

Love, light, and good vibrations to you all. To the countless new phriends I made at The Dozen, until we meet again – see you for another Garden New Year’s in a few months. Our trip is short to YEMSG reprise – Seventeen in Seventeen! “When you bait the hook with your heart, the [Phish] will always bite.”

Hoodboy is What’s Eating Gilbert Grape by N13

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A Rant on Rage Sticks – aka Festival Totems

by Russell S. Glowatz

This past weekend Pretty Lights put on an episodic festival in New Hampshire. In between sets, crew members were sent out to move a totem wielding fan from the front of the stage to the side, so lighting folks could do their job without an unobstructed view. Soon after, Pretty Lights’ lighting designer, LazerShark, worked up an anti-totem image to plaster on the screen at the back the stage. LazerShark was simply poking fun – His later post about the incident metes that out.

According to Live For Live Music, after the incident LazerShark commented: “Just to be clear since some people think it’s their right to be an inconsiderate douche. Your right to “self-expression” has not been banned at our shows. We simply just want both our crew and our audience to be able to enjoy the show how they intended. We could have simply confiscated this stupid jellyfish [totem] but instead we decided to have a little fun and prove a very simple point. Stand to the side dummies. Or I’m coming to your job with a giant sign that says fuck you and you can explain to your boss why some guy is interfering with your work.”

I’m going to take LazerShark’s sentiment to the next level. Ban those fucking rage rods altogether. There’s a thousand ways to express yourself at a festival without getting up in people’s faces. You can sing, dance, wear crazy clothing, go nude, paint your face, wear no makeup at all, carry around a super heady backpack with all your pins and swag on it, hand out cards to everyone with your favorite inspirational quote, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseam. These totems are the epitome of getting up in others’ spaces – If you rock one, your selfishness outweighs your self-expression tenfold. 

Ban those completely inconsiderate “I’m the center of the universe” poles. Friends don’t let friends bring cock sizing rods to festivals. If you have a friend or relative putting together one of these silly spikes, stop them immediately. Break that thing in half! They’ll be pissed at you in the present, but will thank you down the line. Imagine an episode of Intervention, except the only drug your loved one is high on this time is their own ego.

“But wait, I need my totem to find my friends!” If you seriously need one of these oversized sceptres to find your friends at a fest (in 2017!!!) you should be banned from the grounds, as you’re clearly a danger to others and yourself. If American soldiers could find their comrades in the jungles of Vietnam with a compass and the stars, why can’t you find your buddies in a crowd at a festival – when literally everyone is a walking GPS these days? Oh, you say you left your phone in your car? Cool, then make a meeting spot where you can all gather at a specific time! It’s really simple shit we’re talking about here.  Being considerate of staff and your fellow festival goers, I would presume is paramount for most people attending such events. The rage stick violates these central tenets. If one walks around a fest with such an unwieldy staff, you’re breaking the Golden Rule without even knowing it. 

Sure, festivals are the last Wild West – A place to break free from the confines of meager existence to celebrate life to the fullest. But are rage sticks really necessary to rage life to the fullest?! Hell no! Party, get schwilly (do people still say schwilly?), get down, get dirty, and express yourself to your heart’s desire, just leave your beanstalk at home (or at least your campsite). It’s simple. And if you’re seriously having issues giving up your Napoleon Complex pole, therapy might be a good outlet. End rant. 

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It Ain’t Love & Light All The Time: Making GA Better At Phish

by Russell S. Glowatz

Some people don’t think there is a problem. Other people believe it’s a small problem. Then there’s the folks that are sure the whole thing is blown out of proportion. Then there are the cats that just don’t care. GA issues, Phamily. This writer believes they are real, and has heard enough firsthand accounts from people on Facebook, in personal discussion, and has seen enough to know something’s awry. Maybe things have been the way they are for a long time, or throughout the entire history of Phish shows with general admission sections. Yet lately, as the chatter increases to such immense levels, it might get to the point where those in charge have no choice but to change it up.

Recently I wrote an article, Wilson, We Have A Problem: Ruminations on the Rumble at Dicks – It’s Only a Symptom, about entitlement and privilege in GA. I feel like I made a lot of good points, some people say bad points, yet needless to say through publishing that piece I’ve come to learn how provocative the subject remains with passion abound on all sides. One thing I failed to do in that previous piece was to provide any solutions. Now I got one. Before I dive in, I don’t pertain to be any expert on the workings of crowd control at concerts. I’m just a Phan like you that has an idea that could alleviate some (some being the opportune word) of the issues surrounding privilege and congestion in GA.

Firstly, rail riders will be pissed at my idea, and maybe me too, merely for presenting my opinion. Secondly, I cannot please everyone with what I say and I know that going in (still gonna say it though). Lastly, many have mentioned that the only true solution to the woes in GA is to go fully back to assigned seating on the floor. I believe there’s another solution that could mitigate many issues while saving our precious GA space to boot. Whether or not this is a viable solution, my hope is to stir constructive discussion on the topic. Maybe one of you has a major answer sitting on the tip of your tongue. Maybe by voicing it in a positive and nuanced way, someone that can do something about it will hear you.

So my idea is simple: Create a separate “pit” section at the front of GA (say roughly 10 rows-ish back). When all GA ticket holders enter the show, some will be randomly awarded special bracelets for the pit. One bracelet type will be for the first set, and another for the second. The pit will be cleared at set break to allow set two bracelet holders a chance to get up front. Adding to that, the tarp and blanket ban should stay in effect.

I wholeheartedly see this as a way to diffuse much of the craziness happening towards the front of GA, and also completely disband this kind of privileged group at the front of the stage. To the rail riders, I understand you put in the time and wait long hours, and under the current regime, you deserve your spaces. You work for them! Yet it just seems so stale when the people upfront contend to more or less know everyone that’s usually up there. It seems, even self admittedly, that the crowd more or less stays similar through entire tours (or entire legs of tours). Then there’s the other crowd of people who think it’s okay to push all the way up to the front when that area is already occupied. This Pit concept would alleviate the issues and pressure coming from both sides of the coin.

I think it’s high time to try something new! Too many negative reports coming from the front of GA. With the aforementioned idea (or one similar to it) we also will not lose GA to assigned seating, yet might just ameliorate the issue. #My2Cents

UPDATE: I’ve been alerted to a similar idea that’s already in play at Bruce Springsteen shows…and it’s been working!

You can find a link to the Boss’ Pit/GA policy here.

Thanks to Jason Goldstein & Paul Copoulos for pointing this out!

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Hide Your Kids, Hide Your Wife: The Phish Is Coming To Town

by Russell S. Glowatz

The majestic moment of magnificent bliss we’ve all been waiting for, the bombastic blockbuster of the summer, highly anticipated by Phans across the planet, is finally upon us. TODAY! In a short few hours, the epic 13-day residency by Phish at Madison Square Garden will commence. If the five show dress rehearsal that took place in Chicago, Dayton, and Pittsburgh, is any guide, we are in for an epic treat come Friday evening. All speculation points towards the Baker’s Dozen finding a high regarded place in Phishtory. The unique residential nature of the run at an indoor venue in the summertime has already been the talk of the town for quite some time. Since night one of Northerly Island, we’ve been collectively drooling over CK5’s massively mobile lighting rig. And if the boys deliver, which they certainly will on many, if not all nights of the run, we’re in for a spectacular exhibition in musical madness and psychedelic sorcery.

While the saying, “we are everywhere,” remains potently true in most corners of the planet, the phrase will take on new form over the next two weeks, as Phans from all throughout the world, of all shapes, sizes, colors, and creeds, will flock to the Big Apple in joyous delight. As each night’s Phishy extravaganza will only take up a fraction of our day, we’ll have lots of time to explore what the greatest city on Earth has to offer. Phans will be in coffee shops, pizza places, movie theatres, yoga studios, parks, museums, bars, hotels, massage parlors, restaurants, on the tops of skyscrapers (because they are grand after all), etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Even an avid Phish Head chiropractor is offering special rates on adjustments for Phans in need all throughout the Dozen. As we traverse the city formerly known as New Amsterdam, wave that phreak flag wide and high. Let us know who you are, and if you’re not a #TarpNazi, chances are we’ll get along famously. New phriendships will manifest, new relationships formed. Maybe you’ll meet the future love of your life?! With the greatest spectacle known to mankind laying down roots in the finest city on this side of the Milky Way, anything is possible. In this time of the season, the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love, Phish and New York City will throw down like never before.

There will be countless Phish-related events to check out, from pre-show booze cruises (see you at DeadPhishOrchestra!), to post-show late night euphonious extravaganzas. There will be kid oriented Phish cover bands playing (you don’t really need to hide your kids, or wives for that matter! The more the merrier!!!), and Phish-themed spin classes are very much a thing too! Where better to detox fresh for next night’s rowdy rager?! American Beauty, a bar and music venue down the block from MSG will be holding an inside shakedown of sorts, where you can find those goodies, from food, crafts, and beyond, that you’d normally seek out in summertime lots. Long story short, there’s something for everyone out there, even the most phinicky Phan can take pleasure.

When they say they circus is coming to town, they weren’t shitting you. The everyday earthlings might confront confusion when crossing through our scene outside MSG and beyond, but by and large our kind community will treat those bystanders with love and affection, and maybe even encourage a few to let loose and get down. This ain’t no fucking Barnum & Bailey. No animals were harmed in the making of this extravaganza! Maybe some braincells were lost, but the sacrifice is minute, paralleled with the payoff. We are a beautiful people! Except the Tarpers of course, who should leave their giant plastic sheets in their hotel rooms. Feel free to tarp your hotel bed, or build a sweet fort while you’re at it, but keep those synthetic monstrosities far away from the floor at MSG. Phans barely tolerate you as is, and I highly doubt MSG staff will be sympathetic to your cause to lock down a 30 by 30 space for you and your fifteen closest imaginary friends. You’ve taken much heat over the last week, Tarpers, but you really deserved it all. Yet you are Phans, which implies you might just be intelligent. Please take a clue and leave your pool covers and rolls of duct tape at home. Remember: “the love you take, is equal to the love you make.” Don’t be douchebags. It’s a simple request.

So in the end, I wrote this little piece in haste because I felt the need to put something on paper before we ascend into our psychedelic Phish-hole. Usually I take an inordinate amount of time to edit and proofread the drivel I publish, because it has my name on it, and I tend to be a maniacal about things I hold near and dear. Perhaps I’ve said nothing new here, or maybe you picked up a gem of inspiration that’ll be useful for your jovial journey into the imminent metropolitan musical mayhem. If you’re interested in any of the countless Phish-themed events taking place over the next weeks, please hit google to find out the details, or better yet, Facebook (I’d link you myself, but I’m too busy getting ready for the Dozen!).To say I’m psyched for this 13 show rodeo to commence, is the understatement of the millennium. This will be the highlight of my summer, as I’m sure is the case for many. While some of us will find ourselves with enough wind at our backs to scarf down all 13 shows, others will take what we can get and make the most of our experience. Cashing in on the goodness of our circumstance is always the aim. So as you traverse these great United States on your voyage to the city that never sleeps, please drive safe and take it slow. Once you’re here, I pray you rage to your heart’s desire, but please rage responsibly. Look out for yourselves. Hydration, hydration, hydration! And pay mind to your neighbors whether you personally know them or not. Let’s take mind of each other and be the big happy phamily we’re meant to be. If you perceive something as wrong, please speak up. If you think a phan is in trouble, please ask them if they’re alright. The worst that might happen is a silly misunderstanding. The best result could be one’s rescue from undesirable elements, and saving a stranger from years of trauma. Common sense pholks…it goes a super long way. We have the ability to police ourselves when need be, by merely speaking up. Posting a picture of a perceived wrong to Facebook will not solve the problem. Open your minds and hearts to your neighbors, and use your words people, not your smartphone cameras. Positivity will reign freely if we just let common sense be our guide. We don’t need no stinking badges! We can police ourselves with minimal intrusion, and for the rest of the time: live and let live! Peace, love, and Phish. Our trip is short…see you soon 🙂

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Qualifications For A Deadhead: An Open Letter To The Tribe

by Russell S. Glowatz

Our traveling circus has been traversing the world, converting novice initiates into dedicated disciples, going on 52 years now. The Grateful Dead and its psychedelic rodeo have been at the forefront of this phenomenon, organically amassing the most ardent assembly of apostles in modern history. Father to son, mother to daughter, sibling to sibling, colleague to colleague, and friend to friend, one turned on to this wonderful world via an apprenticeship of sorts. A passing of a tape, vinyl record, or CD, and nowadays, a FLAC, or a YouTube link, aroused the senses early on, planting seeds of devotion that for many would blossom into full on immersion. Heading to a show, whether Grateful Dead in the glory days, or an offshoot band in the present, was a rite of passage, a graduation day of sorts, where one experienced the full measure of what this eccentric scene has to offer. If you’re reading this, you likely never looked back, and have self-identified as a bona fide Deadhead ever since. Whether you had that first life altering Grateful Dead adventure in ’65, 2017, or in between, the only qualification for a Deadhead is an appreciation for the music of the Grateful Dead, period. You alone define your level of devotion, and never let anyone convince you otherwise.

Lately it occurs to me that the age-old conflict, of what makes one a Deadhead, has reemerged on the information super shakedown in epic proportions. In Grateful Dead community groups across Facebook, the battle usually centers around whether or not one saw Jerry play in the flesh, and if bearing witness is an essential prerequisite for a Deadhead. A version of this argument has existed in one form or another since 1973, when Pigpen checked out. It more or less centers around whether one saw the band in its true form, and has the war stories to prove it. The Keith/Donna generation took shit from the Pig generation, and some Godchaux-era initiates wouldn’t hesitate to brand the Brent-era Deadheads as inauthentic. Then the “Touchheads,” arriving after the critical success of “In The Dark,” experienced the brunt of this thinking from the late eighties until Jerry’s demise. In present time, its post-Jerry Deadheads feeling the heat, and in a decade or two, post-Core Four Deadheads will confront this same travesty of thinking.

There is a noticeable ebb and flow, yet presently this perpetual conflict is galloping full steam ahead. In most of the GD Facebook enclaves, diatribes questioning the legitimacy of post-Jerry Deadheads have once again become par for the course. As our community continues to expand its younger ranks, many youngins pop on these Facebook groups to find community, support, and advice as they explore the slippery slopes of the Deadosphere. Often they meet negativity and vitriol at the door. Why, you might ask, after coming off the highs of the best Dead & Company tour to date, would such a negative vibe be permeating the virtual realm of our scene? Perhaps, in part, this trend continues because the internet often appeals to our base instincts. But the reason is less important than the reality that Deadhead trolling is a nuisance.

So to the Deadhead that finds the need to promote contempt for youngins on the web, maybe take a moment to remember why we’re all here. Our obsession with the music of the Grateful Dead is at the forefront, and our mutually tacit belief in karma and kindness guides us through this trip. An abundance of post-Jerry heads abide by these same ideals. Empathy is key here. Remember when you were green? Do you recollect that first time on lot looking for a ticket, when that tour vet taught you the magic of waving a pointer finger high? Recall that time when the kind older head gifted you a miracle, that night you got your first “Morning Dew!?” We were all young once, and without schooling from those that came before us, we’d be left ignorant, acting a fool, sucking balloons in the lot, not realizing the main event lies only feet away. Perhaps the next time you feel the urge to vent about the cluelessness of the younger generation at large, put yourself in their shoes for a minute, and if what you got serves nothing but to stroke your own ego, please keep that garbage to yourself. Yet if you find your able to take a constructive spin on things, please educate, for without it, we’d all be lost.

To younger Deadheads that feel less than for coming of age after the death of Jerry Garcia, do not let a disgruntled minority of jaded old timers discourage you from delving deeper down the grateful rabbit hole. You may have missed the Captain, but this ship of fools still sails smoothly, and there’s plenty of room onboard. You were not born at the wrong time. The scene today is as vibrant as ever, and we are supremely fortunate to participate. The Core Four is alive and well, still spreading the gospel, recruiting new talent, to bring us the most authentic and energized live music experiences they can. The jam band scene at large is in a golden age. Countless innovatively improvisational acts are popping up daily, and in the spirit of the Grateful Dead, they constantly push boundaries and take this thing of ours to the limit. We are supremely fortunate, and never let anyone else convince you otherwise.

Maybe we all could take a step back and embrace the clarity that such distance brings. Whether on the internet, or in person, lets aim to love each other, and let our words reflect that love. Let us be critical too, for we are Deadheads after all, but let that criticism come from a place of constructiveness. Let’s be grateful that the music will not stop with us, but live on in the souls of the coming dawn. Let’s open our hearts and minds to the next generations, and school them as humbly as we can. Respect is a two-way street. If we aim to help the newbies assimilate, as opposed to delegitimizing their existence, we’d serve ourselves by nurturing a mindful, respectful, and humble new class of Deadheads. The Grateful Dead world remains in its infancy. Our big bang happened only 52 years ago, and our universe is ever-expanding. Let’s be the best possible ambassadors to tomorrow, and if we strive towards this goal, we will engender a mutual respect with our Deadhead descendants.

Our past is storied, and our present is bright. With the faith and fortitude of thousands, our community blossomed organically, yet was built to last. Collectively we’ve persevered through the perils of a half century, and confidence is high that Deadheads, in large gatherings and small, will one day celebrate our centennial with the same serene spirit that embodied Fare Thee Well. Budding Deadheads are listening to the music play for the first time, right in this moment. Not even a twinkle in their mama’s eye, prospective Deadheads have yet to see the light of day. We must welcome these folks, with open arms, for they are our future. We must show them the ropes, and school them with a spirit of equality. We must remind them that there’s no requirement for membership, except an appreciation for Grateful Dead tunes; you are what you say you are. If anyone ever tells you otherwise, feel free to point them towards this article (or THIS). Going forward, as karma guides you, let kindness be your watchword, and may the four winds blow you safely home.

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Fare Thee Well Was Just The Beginning: Celebrating the Choicest 21st Century Year of Phish & the Dead

by Russell S. Glowatz

With the New Year upon us, it’s a fitting time to reflect upon the sorcerous year of song currently reaching its conclusion. Musicians across the JamBandaverse have been no doubt firing on all cylinders in 2015, with this energy largely manifesting from the top down, originating from Phish and the surviving members of the Grateful Dead. While I believe trickle-down economics is a big bowl of bullshit, the theory holds water when applied to the jam band scene. And our collective consciousness was given a shot of adrenaline from up top when in January, Fare Thee Well: Celebrating 50 Years of Grateful Dead was announced featuring Trey Anastasio at the helm. It all started there, and through months of preparation, and five transcendent Dead shows, Trey and the boys set the stage for a year in jam unrivaled in recent history.

Grateful Dead University was the most remarkable thing that happened to Trey since drug court. It admittedly tweaked him just right for the second half of 2015. In GDU, Bobby gave Trey a lesson in patience, and Trey allowed himself alone time with his extensive rig. These two facets in the reeducation of Trey, amongst a smattering of other things, set the scene for our favorite redhead to shine all over again. It’s not a stretch to name Big Red as the MVP of Fare Thee Well, let alone 2015 as “The Year of Trey.”

Through GD50, the best summer Phish tour in a generation, a smokin’ hot TAB fall tour, and what already looks like a New Years Run for the record books, Trey’s infectious energy has remained front and center. And as I’ve said in a previous Trey Band review, he’s contagious, as his magic manifests in the players around him wherever he goes. So as this Phish run rounds out, before we find ourselves on the other side of Riviera Maya itching for summer tour 2016, I’m gonna take a moment to thank the immediate Phish family, as they did to us in the final shot of the summer. United We Stand, and not a thing suggests that this string of unimaginable feats won’t continue into the New Year.

Onward to Dead & Company, part II of GD50, brought to us by three of the core four. Their fall tour was alchemical. With the incorporation of John Mayer into the mix, he has largely endeared himself to thousands of deadheads that not too long ago loathed his very existence. While Dead & Company in an all inclusive sense, has not nor ever will reach the heights of the magic embodied in Fare Thee Well (unless John Mayer can piss rainbows, that’d be an impossible feat), this past fall tour has been nothing less than an expectation exceeding modern reinvention of our favorite touring band. With Mayer and Oteil Burbridge seeded in the mix, Dead & Co. reached contemporarily unrivaled peaks, putting forth some of the finest versions of Grateful Dead songs since the days of Jerry.

And while the collective energy level of Santa Clara and Chicago will likely never be reached again, through camaraderie that can only be built in a touring band, the latest GD50 ensemble found themselves getting better all the time. Due to downtime, some ashes, glass, and rust needed to be wiped away during the first few New Years run shows, yet confidence that the band will bring it with them on this eve remains high. Bigger and brighter things lay in wait for Dead & Company if they choose to head out on their rumored 2016 summer tour, but in the present they’ve managed to carry that 50th anniversary magic with further vigor than has been displayed in years. Thanks boys for making 2015 extra special. You’ve inspired many a deadhead and jam band to reach for the skies in their respective endeavors.

So with the preeminent jam bands’ bringing it all back home in the last twelve months, many other acts have followed suit. While there’s no direct connection here, I firmly believe our collective scene energy has played a major part. Case in point, The String Cheese Incident also found themselves at the top of their game this year. The Disco Biscuits have all of a sudden been throwing down like it’s 2009 all over again. Umphrey’s, well they always kill it. Lots of younger acts have tapped in too. From Dopapod and Twiddle reaching new heights, both opening for String Cheese at Red Rocks this past summer, to unparalleled collaborations between Twiddle and the Werks on Twerk Tour, to magic manifested by Turkuaz, Tauk, etcetera, etcetera, all year long. These are only a few bands that quickly come to mind, as many unmentioned have also thrown their hats into this 2015 free-for-all.

In a nutshell, this year was immensely prosperous for fans, musicians, festival goers, and everyone that has a stake in this subculture. If 2016 serves to be half as fruitful, we’re in for a wild ride in the coming year, yet here’s hoping it’s better. To all in the jam band world, all that have supported my writing ventures over the past six months, and all those souls beyond, have a happy, healthy, and hopeful New Year! Next year in Jerusalem!!!

You Ain’t Gonna Learn What You Don’t Want To Know (The Dark Side of the Dead’s Illuminated 50th Year)

(Originally published on Grateful Music)

Russell’s Round Room

Deadheads have always been a critical bunch. For decades we’ve waded and waffled over albums, tapes, set lists, soundboards, and so on, with monotonous detail. We’ve attended shows with aim to transcend the boundaries and limits of day-to-day life, yet when something wasn’t quite up to snuff, we’d be the first to appraise, and offer up notions on how it could’ve been better. Since Jerry checked out we’ve been hypercritical about every show, often unfairly holding them up to concerts from the best days of the Dead. And while sometimes we can frankly be oversensitive imbeciles, it’s this very way that we showcase our dedicated nature that makes us the very best fan base in the world. We don’t mince words. We will tell you if you suck. Likely you don’t blow or we wouldn’t attend your shows, but when you have one of those days, tours, or even one of those sets or songs where you couldn’t tap into the collective synchronicity, you’re going to get an earful. As a musician I can’t imagine a more terrifyingly wonderful prospect, because you will get the credit when it’s due. Genuine is a word that wholeheartedly defines deadheads.

And this year, tons of gratitude has poured from our ranks towards the Core Four, their counterparts and the various 50th anniversary incarnations, yet there has been an incredible level of hogwash as well. And I’m not talking about constructive criticism regarding a show that already went down; rather referring to deadheads a plenty taking their preconceived notions about a certain artist or ensemble and prejudging events that have yet to take place. While it’s far from the bunch, and may be a minority (there’s no way to really know), a group of heads has made an indelible mark in various corners of the interweb with premature expressions of doubt. First with Trey, the hysteria was palpable, and people that practically based part of their very being on hating Phish, were met with a musical identity crisis of massive proportions. Folks flipped their shit, and that vibe wafted throughout our scene, and touched everyone, including Big Red himself. But now that Fare Thee Well has come and gone, the Anastasio bashing has nearly ceased, as most realize they don’t have two legs to stand upon when attacking his abilities. So at this juncture as Trey stands on his merits, some have certainly learned their lesson about prejudgment. Still I can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu with the yet to be road tested Dead & Company and their lead guitarist. John Mayer’s inclusion in Dead and Company has left him as the new public enemy number one. After the unjustified Trey hate barrage, I thought many more would take the high road at this juncture, but my optimism outshined reality, as the trolls and drama queens are at it again. And a message to them: your intransigent non-constructive criticism serves no purpose whatsoever, other than to justify your years held prejudices. Disliking Mayer’s mainstream music should not be basis for condemning the Dead and Company venture. Even Mayer himself believes his pop tunes are garbage, merely a means to pay the bills while pursuing his true passions on the side. Moreover a heaping handful of evidence suggests that Mayer can in fact play guitar, and play it quite well. So instead of condemning the man out of the gate, how about giving him a chance to demonstrate his proficiency without any prepossessed notions. Simply, it’s called open-mindedness, and I thought we were a pretty receptive bunch.

As Mayer has received his fair share of hate from the general public over the years, and has likely grown a thick skin, it’s not his feelings I’m concerned about. It’s our community, and what we tacitly stand for that should be upheld. Many are stoked for these shows. We hear your hate on a daily basis. While you may be ultimately right, and Dead & Company bombs due to the incorporation of Mayer into the collective, you’ll be vindicated based on your prediction, but you won’t be upon your behavior. The name-calling and ad hominem attacks are unbecoming, unnecessary, and your prematurely negative vibes are harshing our widespread mood. So for the betterment of our community, mellow out, open your brain, ears, and heart to the possibility that something good might be brewing. And if you can’t do that, and your irrational hate is so deep-seated, then stuff it for the duration and let us have our good time without the ongoing pessimistic commentary from the peanut gallery. Ultimately your vibe won’t ruin our experience in the least, but it does take its toll, and perhaps in recognition of that, you’ll take it down a notch.

Whether this tour will be the greatest thing since Fare Thee Well, present itself as a mediocre happening, or crash as an abysmal failure, we don’t know. Those touting the merits of Mayer, or attacking him on insignificant levels, simply have no inkling. So in the vista of uncertainty, why not wax positive. Positivity and transcendent music are the main features of our community that brought us here in the first place. And without the former, the latter often doesn’t come to fruition. Life is a whole lot easier looking upwards and onwards, rather than downwards with a constant eye towards past dwellings. If these shows are second-rate, then take all the time you need to constructively criticize after the fact. I may very well join you. But if the hate parade continues towards Dead & Company’s opening dates, I have to ask: what kind of people are we? We can be the people that live by the creeds commonly suggested in Grateful Dead lyrics, or we can throw everything we’ve learned on this trip to the wind, and devolve into our lesser selves. The choice is yours. “Ain’t no time to hate,” even if it’s John Mayer.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz

Logo: Jeffrey Peltzman

Crosseyed & Painless: Phish 3.1

(Originally published on Grateful Music)

Russell’s Round Room

“One good thing about [Phish], when it hits you feel no pain.” And we’ve all been crosseyed and painless this summer as our favorite band was hitting it nightly. Spectator to unarguably the greatest tour of 3.0, and likely the best run of shows since the 1990’s, I couldn’t be more elated for our community as a whole, especially us youngins in the bunch. No more can that handful of apathetic old heads trample on our good time with the tired old adage that “it just ain’t the same.” While Phish 2015 is far from the band with the same moniker from two decades ago, they are finally reaching the same summits again, and old and new, contemporary fans have laid witness to all their glory. And to understand how I personally feel about this latest peak from our favorite ensemble, lets head back for a moment to the lowliest point in Phishtory.

If Phish was Poster Nutbag, I jumped on the phan bandwagon right before he kicked the bucket. My journey to Phish was a tedious one that began in the summer of 2004 with a decision made by my group of teenage friends to head up to Coventry, Vermont for what was then to be their last music festival. At the time I only had dabbled in some of the band’s more well known tunes, and my only notion of what a Phish festival or show was like came from watching Bittersweet Motel. While the rest of the seasoned Phish community was already mourning the loss of their favorite spiritual/therapeutic/musical outlet, my friends and I set out upon an epic, but arduous journey that marked the very beginning of my true insertion into this wonderful jam band community.

While I now understand how weird, pensive, and not so serene the vibe was at Coventry, at the time I thought I was at a run of the mill Phish festival. I was in heaven. Ankle deep muddy heaven. I even thought the mud was a normal occurrence. It rained! Of course there’s gonna be mud so deep one can’t even take care of his shoes. I was a newb. And as I walked into the venue barefoot, hundreds of phans busted through a fence from their several mile trek to the fest. I met a head that had his chest ripped open after he scaled a waterfall and failed while hiking into the campgrounds. He still got to the show. I knew this wasn’t quite the status quo at the time, but what struck me was the dedication of these phans, making it to their last hurrah hell or high water. When the music started, that dedication was unfounded, as Trey rambled on, and the rest of the band attempted to carry his addled self. And while the weekend was a musical and logistical bust, I did pick up something from Coventry. A need to understand where this fanatical nature came from. So over the course of the next few years, I delved deep into the Phish catalogue, caught the boys solo when I could. One particular Trey Anastasio & 70 Volt Parade show at Jones Beach, on the 60th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing felt like a personal apology for the atomic blast that was Coventry. After that show, fishing further, finding all those gems in the band’s catalogue that veterans so energetically talked about, I held out hope for a Phish reunion. Then my and thousands of others’ prayers were answered with the Mothership shows in March of 2009. While that run left much for wanting, our band was back together, and I was experiencing present day good and genuine Phish performances for the first time in my existence. With both the Dead and Phish setting out for their first full-length tours in five years, 2009 made for a largely legendary year of music.

Fast forward to 2015. Phish has been out on the road again for seven years running. While during the last lucky seven heavy rotations around the sun we’ve witnessed many highs, a few lows, and a lot of middle of the road shows, we are buzzing off a tour that exceeded all of our wildest dreams. Even us relative newbies’ never expected harmonious heights synonymous with the mid-nineties. We never envisaged musical mastery exceeding all of 2.0 and 3.0 combined, yet here we are. A collection of shows that rivals most groupings in the last two decades. Incredible. Speechless. This is why we keep coming back for more. And to cork it off, Sunday night’s THANK YOU encore at Dick’s placed a juicy cherry atop all that’s transpired this summer.

For the first time in this 3.0’ers life, I feel like I’ve experienced all of what Phish has to offer. Upward and onward! 2015 ain’t over yet. Rumor has it we have an MSG New Years run in our future, followed by 2016 shows that our Mexican Cousins will have a chance to jump on. Then the rumored US winter tour. Born again, rejuvenated, whatever you want to call it…the boys are hitting on all cylinders and magic is in the air. Nothing currently suggests that it won’t continue into the winter and New Year. So save your pennies, recharge on this break, for the future is bright, and time’s got nothing on Phish. Mid-life they may be, but they look like a bunch of giddy teenagers on stage, and their enthusiasm is widely reflected in the music they’re producing. And as the music plays the band, the band plays us. Thank you Trey, Page, Mike, Jon, CK5, and the crew that brought it all back home for each and every one of us on this tour. Until next time, united we stand.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz

It Doesn’t Have A Name Just Yet: Dead Ahead In 2015

(Originally published on Grateful Music)

Russell’s Round Room

“There’s something happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear.” In our jam band bubble, we are lucky enough to take in stupendous music year after year, yet some periods are more special than others, and 2015 is one for the record books. Enchantment is abundant in our world, and for the surviving members of the Grateful Dead not much has been run of the mill in respect to the various celebrations for their 50th anniversary. Since we aren’t talking about any band here, there’s no such thing as status quo when it comes to a Dead type tour, but for the first time in the post-Jerry years, the community that surrounds the surviving members of the group seems to be more vibrant than in any of the days since August 9, 1995.

While we’ve all been lucky enough to experience countless amazing musical and community moments since the passing of the unofficial patriarch of the Deadhead Diaspora, I can’t think of many instances that top what has already occurred during our current trip around the sun. Yes, there have been some top-notch tours with the Core Four, together and apart, but I’d be hard pressed to find a collection of post-Jerry shows that reached the collective heights of Fare Thee Well. And while the melodic merits of Santa Clara and Chicago will continue to be argued by every card-carrying deadhead, not one of us can deny the communal clarity that those final Dead shows brought to fruition. While I only imbibed via the movie screen, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that those concerts were the closest representations of bona fide Grateful Dead experiences to have taken place since the untimely passing of Jerry. Whether via the interweb or in person, everyone that has survived the highs and lows of the past two decades were there, basking in all the glory embodied in the phrase, “There’s nothing like a Grateful Dead concert.”

Now three of the core four have tapped into the notion that something special is transpiring in our promised land and formed Dead & Company. While I can’t blame Phil for not joining in, as I don’t have many details, other than speculation and hearsay from a handful of folks supposedly in the know, I do wish he were taking part. However there will still be plenty of chances to get our Phil fix through shows at the Capitol Theater in Portchester, NY, his rambles at Terrapin Crossroads, and the expected Core Four appearance, amongst other combos at Lockn’ Festival. Phil is celebrating GD50 in his own way, and I wish him all the best in everything he does. But while Phil does his personal thing, I am truly stoked for Dead & Company and all its possibilities. As I have subjectively high expectations for the shows about to go down, intellectually I know that this incarnation has every ability to fall flat on its face. Weir, Hart, and Kreutzmann are taking an incredible risk introducing a complete outsider into our scene, and the backlash from some fans has been palpable. But Mayer is a commensurate guitarist and performer, and all evidence suggests that he is holed up somewhere right now studying his ass off for tour. While the potential to bomb is prevalent, this ensemble also presents us with the possibility of musical majesty and reinvention that has not been heard on such a large-scale in decades. And for those that think Mayer doesn’t have the chops to pull this off, rumor has it that he will have some help on the way from a smattering of different guitarists at various tour stops. With great possibility comes great risk, and I’m certain the boys are keenly aware of this and will do everything in their power to ensure success in autumn.

And thus far ascendancy has been the name of the game in respect to marketing this shindig. Not since the mid-nineties has a Dead oriented tour found so much response in respect to ticket sales. While famous venues such as MSG generally tend to sell out without much effort on any given tour, demand has varied even in the recent past. Tickets could be found lining chain link fences, or left on the lot as trash at show time for the Dead reunion at Penn State University in October of 2008. Dead Tour 2009, which is the most recent comparable arena sized tour, largely did not sell out. While this tour will more than likely have some dates added still, word on the wire is that every show pass will be claimed nationwide. For three dudes considered passed their prime, and a man that was until recently largely loathed by the majority of Deadheads, this feat is immensely impressive.

And while the expected sell out has been nursed along by a few annoying, but germane marketing practices, sales ploys can not be all that’s behind this triumph. Although the mere idea of the fiftieth anniversary being the last hurrah has drummed up a certain sense of nostalgia for older deadheads who got off the bus a while ago, and mustered the possibility of seeing the magic happen live and in person for younger deadheads that never got to go out on real Dead tour, the overwhelming energy currently felt within our community can not solely be driven by these factors alone. There is certainly something happening here, yet what it is truly cannot be defined. Luckily for us it can be wholeheartedly embraced! The various spinoffs of our favorite band are more popular than they have been in a long time, and the surviving members have been successfully tapping into this energy.

So whatever reservations you may have about this tour: the cast of characters, the exorbitant prices, the runaround getting tickets, the redundant notion that this all is a money grab, and John Mayer being at the forefront of it all, I implore you to catch a show or two, or ten. This could be the last circus of its size, or not. But it will most certainly be the last group of shindigs for 2015, and if I could tell you one thing about this year, it has been full of symphonious sorcery with more to likely come. There’s been another band at the helm of our scene having its best year in a generation; you guys may have heard of them. For those piscatorial fellas and what’s left of the Dead, something mystical is in the air. Take it all in before it passes you by.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz

Crime of Convenience: Ticketmaster Strikes Again

(Originally published on Grateful Music)

Russell’s Round Room

On Friday morning, August 14th, at 10:00AM a virtual hand slowly slithered out of my computer screen, ripped my heart out, and slapped me in the face. I imagine many had a similar experience, and were left ticketless and despondent in their quest for permission to attend Dead & Company at Madison Square Garden. Don’t worry deadheads; you’ll get your chocolate bar with the coveted gold foil. There are plenty still out there in ticket purgatory and on the secondary market. Regardless, we should not be having these experiences. There is something seriously wrong with this system.

While what I am referring to is the most perplexing first world problem I could think of, a quandary we are all very fortunate to have, it still sucks, and is a hardship we have to go through for every major show that we attempt to attend. Ticketmaster has a problem. Strike that, Ticketmaster has no problem whatsoever. It is an extremely successful company with limited to no competition, and makes out like a bandit with every major concert or event it puts on sale. If countless businesses in this country were to follow the model of Ticketmaster, they would not stay competitive very long, because they exist in a marketplace with competition. As did Ticketmaster once, but that hasn’t been the case since the world was proven circular. When it comes to most major events, they are the only game in town. While Ticketbastard (as many of us endearingly call it) is not fully responsible for our woes, they are the easiest target by far. And while they are not to blame for the bots that suck up tickets for the secondary market in milliseconds, they are complicit in not figuring out a way to stop them from stealing tickets from living and breathing beings. They put up those bot preventing coded barricades, but that does not thwart them. In fact, those stupid security boxes often prevent fans from checking out in the allotted time because of their ridiculous complexities. Ticketmaster, you might as well get rid of those enigmas because they don’t serve their purpose, and only piss off your sentient customers more.

What really bothers me about all of this is that it’s 2015. All these years of selling tickets, all this technology at our fingertips, and this is the best system we’ve got?! No, that’s ludicrous! It’s the most profitable system Ticketmaster can muster, and that is deplorable. I would love to ask Ticketmaster some questions: Who are you really serving? The bots and your bottom dollar, or your valued customers? Obviously you must not value the consumer very much because they HAVE to do business with you if they requisite seeing their favorite acts at face value. You have concertgoers stuck squarely between a scalper and a hard place, and you don’t even have the common courtesy of giving your clients a reach around.

It’s a lack of options for us, and a crime of convenience for you. Only in America your business practices are perfectly legal. In the world where moral fiber matters and karma is a bitch, you are committing misdeeds on a daily basis. While I appreciate that your proceeds matter, because after all you are a corporation, with a proper system for Friday’s general public sale of MSG tickets, you would have gotten every red cent you received from bots, but from real humans. After costs on an overhaul and reconfiguration of your network, your profit margins wouldn’t be affected in the least, and you’d do a great service to the show going community by virtually putting the online scalpers, such as Stub Hub, out of business.

In respect to solving this dilemma. I may have some notions, but I don’t have any answers. Yet you should have the solutions because this racket is your area of expertise! Wouldn’t it feel nice to provide a quality service as opposed to giving folks coronaries every time they decide to spend their hard earned money to attend a show? While from your perspective everything looks hunky-dory, your shit is all fucked up! I’m sure you’re comfortable letting business continue in this manner, but one day your company will face its reckoning. A few of the popular bands in the country have tried to go up against you, but they’ve failed miserably, because a monopoly is expensive to diminish, especially when you have already toppled most alternatives. Yet if you allow this business model to continue, one day in the not so distant future an institution will come up with a plan to put you out of business. All the while an army is forming to assure they succeed.

So wouldn’t it be better to innovate from within, do something constructive, please your customer base, and set your company up for perpetual prosperity by way of helping to get tickets into the hands of those that really desire them? It seems like a win-win to me. And while it’s not directly your system that is creating this virtual bottleneck every time we try to get tickets, you sit idly by and let other people, computers, and vampires disguised as companies suck the joy out of all you do. If it’s just about the balance sheet for you, what’s the bloody point?

It shouldn’t be all about the Benjamin’s, it should be about pleasing the consumer as well and if it’s not then why bother, because all the money in the world won’t dig your company out of its karmic pit. You may not be solely responsible, but you are the only institution currently in the position to make a difference. So please attempt to address this glaring phenomenon already! Throw a bone to the people that put the food on your tables. No one has a problem with you making profit. But don’t only be a cost-effective business, be a good business too. And if you change your act, the next time we have to fork over our hard earned cash for something we love, we won’t even bitch about your inexplicable fees. I promise.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz

Editor: Kevin Long

Welcome To The Dance: A Dead & Company Editorial

(Originally published 8/14/2015 on Grateful Music)

Russell’s Round Room

Dear John Mayer Fans: When The Circus Comes To Town, You’re Invited

Hello there John Mayer Heads! Is that what you call yourselves, because I really don’t know? You’ve probably been a Mayer fan for a while, and may be a bit surprised or confused by the fact that he will be touring, as Dead & Company, with these old geezers you likely don’t know. Well, if that’s the case, don’t fret, those elderly dudes can carry a tune, and they’ve been throwing parties like the ones about to take place for fifty years. Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzmann, and Bob Weir are three of the surviving members of the Grateful Dead. If you’ve never heard of the Grateful Dead before, welcome. If you have heard of the Grateful Dead before, but don’t really know what they are about, happy to have you with us.

To give you a little background, the Dead and their various incarnations have been traveling the greater United States, and beyond for five decades now, opening minds and hearts to transcendent music, and the vibrant community that surrounds the band. From the outside, we must look a little odd to the masses, but I guarantee that once on the inside, you will see the merits of what we have to offer.

The Dead was officially formed in 1965. They have drawn upon countless different musical genres creating a synthesis of sound that you cannot find anywhere else. Their unofficial and often reluctant leader was Jerry Garcia, a true guitar virtuoso and exemplary songwriter that wrote the music for many of the tunes you will hear on the upcoming Dead & Company tour. Sadly in 1995 he passed away and left a huge void within the deadhead community and the world at large. Since then the surviving members have toured under various names, together and apart, with different lead guitarists, constantly reinventing their music for the masses.

Their tunes often lead into improvisation, and extended jams, and the songs they’ve composed are absolutely inspiring. I understand that for a newcomer, extended jamming can be an acquired taste. That’s the way it was for me and before I could appreciate the live marathon improv sessions, and studio albums were the perfect avenue for my journey into deadhead land. The seed was planted for me when my brother gave me the gift of Shakedown Street for Hanukkah when I was twelve. But I ultimately became a budding Deadhead when I discovered my father’s vinyl copy of American Beauty, arguably the greatest album of all time. There are plenty of other studio albums you can take the leap on as well, but American Beauty is my personal recommendation as a place to start in the lead up to MSG. If you jive with what you listen to perhaps you should jump into the Dead’s live catalog. Live is where they truly shined, and a starting point for many has been the Europe ’72 album. If you’re not feeling it after one listen, don’t give up. I guarantee you will discover something potentially life changing.

We are absolutely a welcoming clan. While you may catch a few negative comments online about deadheads feeling queasy over the fact that thousands of John Mayer fans may be infiltrating our scene, those comments are not representative of our group as whole. Please don’t listen to the small but vocal group of Negative Nancy’s, as most of us are pretty decent people. At the very least you will have a real good time, and take in some tremendous tunes. If you find yourself a deadhead in training after these shows, you may desire to delve deeper into what we are about, and there is plenty of literature and archived show recordings to get you where you want to go.

Simply put, we aren’t about much that’s definitive. Many of our creeds are interpretive and not set in stone. If a song lyric inspires you, your understanding of that lyric is as valid as it was for the thousands of other heads that found differing meanings. There are no rules in our community, yet a few generally understood ideas do exist. We strive to be kind to the best of our abilities, we aim to be tolerant of all, and firmly believe in the golden rule. If I had to pick a single principle that defines us, it’s karma. So be good and do good, and good things will come back your way.

And just to remind some of my fellow heads about our implicit principles, specifically in respect to newcomers: be karmic, be kind, aim to enlighten, and do your best not to belittle. Everyone was new once, even you, so remember that, and lend a hand to the beginners over the next few months. For many of the commonly young Mayer fans, these shows may very well plant the seeds of the next Deadhead generation, so please be hospitable. Lets set a good example for these folks.

So to all the Mayer fans out there that are intent upon seeing Dead & Company this fall, I am absolutely looking forward to having fresh faces at our perpetual party. Welcome! Be safe and “be kind.” But most importantly, come with an open mind. Let loose and have fun. Take in the music, the collective, and atmosphere, because in essence we are all apart of the show. The band feeds off our energy and vice versa. To sum up what we are all about in one word, it’s synchronicity. Synchronicity in music, mind, body, spirit, and community.

I know even after reading this, you may still have many queries. Feel free to ask me or anyone else. While some folks may give you shit about a so-called silly question, pay them no mind, and go to the next guy or gal for the answer. If you truly have the desire to find out what we are all about, no question is a stupid question, and there’s always Google. Stay kind John Mayer fans, and see you out there at MSG and beyond.

Words: Russell S. Glowatz

Dear Deadheads: Please Don’t Get Your Panties in a Twist

Russell’s Round Room

My Dearest Deadheads,

Here we are again at the precipice of something big. I was inspired to write this post after reading this piece written by a lovely lady with a name that rhymes with Jerry. You should check it out! Her sentiment is filled with truthiness. Yet I can’t help but add my take on the events that have unfolded and the potential proceedings yet to occur. We have a new Dead incarnation to be thankful for today!

Out there in the vast vista that is the interweb, all the bitching and moaning has begun. Folks are dismayed that they forked over their first-born and took out a second mortgage on their house (among other things) to catch what was billed as the last Dead shows ever to take place. Guess what? They still were the last Dead shows that will ever take place! As someone who could not attend in person (only via the internet simulcast, and IMAX), I would love to go back in time and space with a wad full of cash to catch those shows live and in the flesh.

While I am ever so grateful for the opportunity to have shared those shows with you in real time from hundreds of miles away, and whilst I feel that I had a well-rounded experience in saying goodbye to The Dead, what I did, and what you did, are two different things, and I’m certain what you did was exponentially better. Be grateful for the experience. A happening that you will be recounting for decades to come. An exploit that when retold won’t involve the tidbit about the exorbitant amount of dough you slewed over to Stub Hub in your quest to Santa Clara or Chicago. In the short-term, the money game can be challenging and stressful, but in the long-term it really won’t mean much at all. In the end it’s all about the show.And we have another big show to go to real soon. A show that will blow the socks off many East Coasters and deadheads from around the nation that couldn’t otherwise make it to Fare Thee Well. This will be a show for the ages, and a potential tour to boot at that, but it won’t be the Dead. In the Deadhead Book of World Records, your shows are safe, and already apart of the annals of history. Your experience and everything you forked over for it was worthwhile, and you don’t have to feel “raped,” as one head put it, because some of the boys decided to throw the East Coast a bone as well (all the boys really with Phil at the Cap and Lockn’!).

So now as we embark on getting tickets, making plans, booking hotels, renting cars, taking off work, and amassing the money we need to pull off each of our personal expeditions to MSG, let’s be mindful of what it’s all really about. It’s about the show…the music…the passion…the communion…the spirituality…the gathering…the transcendence. Keep in mind the end result, and while you may eat some bowls of shit along the way, in respect to making all these things happen, let the notion of the end result stay at the forefront.

Be positive. Commiserate, fine. But try to keep it in a positive context, because I can say one thing about this show and potential tour for sure…those heads that maintain the positivity and intend on being in MSG on Halloween, will be in MSG on Halloween. I can’t say with any certainty how easy or hard of a ticket this will be. I can’t say whether some will have to take out a home loan to purchase a show pass on the secondary market. But when you wake up to buy tickets on Friday, August 14th, know that there’s a good shot you won’t get tickets…know there’s a good shot you will get tickets! And know that you not getting tickets from ticketbastard doesn’t mean its end game. Keep mindful. Keep that positivity front and center. Play the waiting game on the secondary market, and when the possible tour gets announced, we may find a plethora of cheap tickets available.

In saying all this, I’m reminding myself of such things, as much as I am directing it towards you. I already feel the potential stress of the journey to Dead & Company in my bones. And some of you probably feel it too. Don’t let it get the best of you. Be better than that, because we are better than that. When you feel the need to bitch and vent online…bitch and vent online. But keep it short and sweet, and end it on a note of positivity. For if you do, I guarantee I will see you in MSG on All Hallows’ Eve.

Sincerely,

Grateful Globotz (Glowatz+Robot=Globotz)

PS- If you need something to de-stress I suggest you take this Dead Test. It takes some time, concentration, and dedication, but it may be one small thing to take your mind off the lack of tickets in your hand as we play the inevitable waiting game and hustle. Best of luck to all you seekers out there, and stay kind 🙂

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Phish ain’t lyrically Dead: So Stop Comparing Them

Russell’s Round Room

Source: http://Treyfuldeadmemes.com — Source: Treyfuldeadmemes.com

by Russell S. Glowatz

Phish ain’t lyrically Dead, so stop fucking comparing them on that level! Pretty pretty please?! I imagine you won’t, but I’m asking anyway because your comparisons are nonsense. So stop. Or don’t. But either way, don’t like Phish lyrics? Fine. They’re not for everybody. There’s nothing wrong with that. Your ticker tape parade will be thrown on the Avenue of Heroes in NYC at the end of Phish tour. But to compare the two bands lyrically is not only foolish…it’s obtuse. End rant. As Ringo would say, I say all this with peace and love, a sincere desire to evoke empathy within the jam band community at large, and the notion, likely some of you realize, that while these bands share many things, lyrics are not one of them, nor were they ever intended to be.

Even putting aside the various collaborations that have occurred between members of Phish and the Grateful Dead in the post-Jerry years, these two bands are linked at the hip, and will inexorably remain that way until their songs and respective followings are snuffed out of existence (if that ever happens). This linkage largely exists due to the two bands’ proclivity towards improvisation in their performances, synchronicity on stage between band and audience members, varied and unique set lists, similar business practices, and an overlapping devoted fan base. However musically and lyrically, these two bands could not be any different. While both were heavily influenced by the American musical landscape, and the musicians that came before them, they also both came of age at completely different times, and this generational gap is reflected in the different style of music they put out.

While one bands verse may seem more profound than the other, I truly contend we should not be comparing these two bands on the lyrical level anymore, because it inevitably leads to hating. When it comes to lyrics and making comparisons, it’s like trying to compare the taste and texture of an apple to a pineapple. They are both fruits and have the word ‘apple’ in their respective names, but besides those similarities, their flavor and feel could not be further from each other. Yet both apples and pineapples are wonderful and delicious in their own right, but in spite of that I don’t see folks equating them very often. So as we don’t compare pineapples and apples, lets aim to do the same with Phish and the Dead on a lyrical level.

Putting the musicianship aside, which most would agree is stellar coming from both bands, even if you don’t personally jive with both bands, lets focus on the words. For many years I have been trying to explain the lyrics of Phish to friends and strangers alike that just don’t get it. They’ll complement the musicianship of the band, but then explain away their inability to get into them as due to Phish’s “idiotic” locution. Invariably the topic will always digress into a conversation about how compared to the prophetic nature of Grateful Dead lyrics, Phish lyrics are generally gibberish and of a juvenile nature. One friend even used to slap a bunch of random rubbish together, and sing in a Phish like way, gyrating as if to imitate one of the band members, ultimately showing me that this is what Phish sounds like to him. While I never got through to that friend, and we are no longer friends at that (for completely unrelated reasons), and it’s okay that he doesn’t get Phish because it’s not for everyone, but wherever he is, I hope he stopped contrasting the damn lyrics to those of the Grateful Dead, and ceased upon hating on folks for their musical predilections. The lyrics are not meant to evoke the same things, and are written in completely different context as the different bands and lyricists relate to society as a whole on a different level.For those who have trouble relating, it is imperative to look at Phish lyrics differently than you do to those of the Dead. Hunter/Barlow lyrics are exceptionally prescient, in a non-dogmatic way. They are meant to be that way, and have remained true to form throughout the years. Phish lyrics, often written by the likes of Tom Marshall and Steve Pollak (The Dude of Life), are for the most part not supposed to be viewed as prophetic, however a few insightful gems exist amongst their massive catalog. While commensurate storytellers, the Phish lyricists seem to base their compositions in a fantasy world…a world where nursery rhymes are written for adults. Perhaps influenced by the song Prince Caspian, I often compare Phish lyrics to a Narnia Chronicles for grownups.

And on top of the whimsical fairytale like atmosphere many Phish lyrics convey, some of them are just plain silly, but that’s not a reason for scorn. They are supposed to be silly, silly. Whether it’s an inside joke between the band members, or the phan community as a whole, these comedic lyrics create an atmosphere unlike anything ever achieved at a Dead show. They convey comedy and commentary much like several of Frank Zappa’s lyrical odysseys. While Phish lyrics may not be as politically influenced as Zappa’s, the resulting madness is similar. A community of phans not only meeting their spiritual needs through transcendent jams, but achieving their therapeutic needs through sheer comedy as well.

While I write this piece in jest in part, specifically some of my words in the introduction, my sentiment remains true to heart. I have a deep connection to both of these bands. Their music and verse has seen me through some of the hardest times of my life, as well as the most marvelous moments of my existence. I do my best to see each of them for what they are, and while I can be as critical as the next person, as much of the respective fan bases tend to be, I try to keep the criticism in the constructive sense. Recently I saw a deadhead in a Facebook group say that those that appreciate Phish are a seriously troubled group of people. I responded with the tidbit that oddly enough, the vast majority of society feels the same way about Deadheads…they look at YOU as troubled. So in essence, it’s easy to cast aspersions when ignorant towards something that seems weird to you. It’s a lot harder to take the time to understand and empathize, even if it ultimately isn’t your cup of tea.

Over the past seven months plus, I’ve seen a lot of vitriol thrown towards Phish’s way due to the news of Trey Anastasio’s inclusion in Fare Thee Well: Celebrating 50 Years of Grateful Dead. While this hate has more or less always existed, much like the recent upswing in racial tensions in our nation, the inclusion of Anastasio in the final Dead performances has brought all this animosity to a boil. While the inauguration of our first African American president may have in part stoked the racial tension in the nation at large, and this analogy only serves to highlight my point in the most superficial of ways, we as a community, a community a jam band devotees, are supposed to be better than the rest of society.

And if we are not better, we should aim to be better, because betterment is the core of human existence, and I can not think of a much better place than a Phish or a Dead-oriented show, where humanity is better represented in all its possibilities. And taking those show vibes to the next level, as a community, and as individuals in this community, instead of hating, we should aim towards love, and empathy. Empathy is key here. If one can’t grasp someone’s love for Phish and their lyrics, at face value, instead of publicly hating on them, perhaps one should try to put themselves in that phan’s shoes. And while this may be common sense for some, on the surface it seems that it’s a long lost notion for others. Without empathy we are a farce. “It’s completely insane, it’s a revolving cast, but it’s the same old game,” “without love, day to day, insanity is king.”

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Deadhead Lent and the Days Between

Russell’s Round Room

Photo Credit: Dave Brickler, All Photos Via www.gdao.org

by Russell S. Glowatz

Take any Grateful Dead song, and one can find countless meanings within. There is no exception with “Days Between,” the last true fusion of the beautiful minds of Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter. A few songs have taken up special meaning since the death of Garcia, and with “He’s Gone,” Days Between has become a notable term in the Grateful Dead lexicon. While the ultimate Days Between, a celebration of the life and times of Jerry Garcia, takes place between August 1st and August 9th, the birth-date and death-date of Garcia respectively, I contend that the run-up to the Days Between, from the anniversary of the last Grateful Dead show on July 9th, to Jerry’s birthday on August 1st are special days as well, and compile our symbolic Lent.

While the Days Between came to fruition, first and foremost as a Jerry holiday, as the years go by it seems that this extended month-long observance is evolving into something greater. It has become a celebration of all we’ve lost, and all we still have in our deadhead community as a whole. This is our reflection time, an opportunity to deal with unresolved grief, a moment to look upon the past year, wrestle with the good and the bad, and even atone for any misdeeds we may have done. Truly a time for karmic contemplation, and joyous communion.

If one were to call the Grateful Dead community a religious phenomenon, or at the very least a spiritual one, Deadhead Lent and the Days Between are our High Holy Days. As certain days of significance, for Christians, scatter the path in the lead up to Easter, starting with Ash Wednesday as the symbolic beginning to conventional Lent, observances such as Palm Sunday and Good Friday cap off the Holy Week leading to a final celebration of the biblical anniversary of Jesus’ Resurrection. While I am near certain that neither Jerry Garcia, nor any other deceased members of the Grateful Dead have been resurrected, the handful of anniversaries observed during this month-long high holy period serve as symbolic reminders of various crossroads in Grateful Dead history. Deadhead Lent calls to mind a time when many deadheads found themselves wandering through the metaphorical wilderness in the early post-Jerry days. And while some essential moments fall outside the realm of these days, many use this time as a spiritual recognition of those anniversaries as well.

While Deadhead Lent is very different from conventional Lent, it embodies the lead up to our Holy Week that is the Days Between. It is in essence pertinent to our overall celebration for those that passed on, and a commemoration of those lost days in the immediate aftermath of the final Grateful Dead show and Jerry’s death. No one gives up meat, smoking, or anything else for Deadhead Lent, yet in similar ways, many Deadheads can get contemplative during this time. They often mourn community losses, atone for karmic sins, and ultimately strive to be penitent, cleansing themselves for the year that lies ahead. As Deadhead Lent winds down to a close, our Holy Week begins with Jerry’s birthday. This month of solemn anniversaries and jubilating remembrance has become our holiday of holidays. Since more or less every single show or event we attend is in spirit a holy day, this month provides a time for those that may not or can not actively attend shows to participate in mourning and celebration as well. It remains to be the highest of holy days celebrated by deadheads on an international level.

Yet since nothing is really defined within the deadhead community, no edict or announcement regarding these days was ever put forth in an official sense. Rather the observance emerged organically after Jerry passed on. The hazy denotation of the term Days Between encapsulates the non-dogmatic nature of the band and community’s ideals as reflected through various GD song lyrics. And while Deadhead Lent remains an informal notion, people have been marking this occasion for years without truly designating the space in time. Ask any deadhead why and when the Days Between occur, and what they do and how they feel in the leading weeks, while varying, you will get fairly similar answers. It is a tacitly approved holiday, celebrated on informal, personal, and sometimes community wide levels.

Miner, Stephen Dorian, “Vince Welnick,” Grateful Dead Archive Online, http://www.gdao.org/items/show/833345. — Photo Credit: Stephen Dorian Miner

As we mark the 50th anniversary of the Grateful Dead saga, 20 years since the last Grateful Dead show and Jerry’s passing, Deadhead Lent and the Days Between take on special meaning this year, and are likely being celebrated, in one way or another, by more deadheads than ever in years past. Whether it’s making a tribute post on Facebook for the anniversary of Brent’s last show or his death (25 years ago on 7/23/90 & 7/26/90 respectively), or putting on a show from ’77 in honor of Keith’s passing (35 years ago on 7/23/80), deadheads are making small gestures in remembrance across this great green Earth. It could be a blog post (as this is), heading to a grassroots type festival such as Grateful Fest in Ohio, or hitting up a bigger Dead oriented fest like Gathering of The Vibes in Connecticut (celebrating 20 years!) for Jerry’s birthday weekend. Large and small, deadheads are making gestures and pilgrimages alike in celebration of our unique community, and the boys who started it all, the members of the Grateful Dead.

Photo Credit: Robert “Bob” A. Minkin
Keith Playing Guitar

So over this month of contemplation, consideration, and karmic realignment, I am sincerely hoping that all the deadheads out there, near and far, have or will take a moment from their day to celebrate in their own special way. There is no definitive procedure to properly take part in Deadhead Lent and the Days Between; you only need to consider yourself somehow a part of this harmonious circus, and do what you feel is special. If our cosmic energy aligns throughout these days, perhaps Jerry, Pigpen, Keith, Brent, Vince, various crew and GD family members of past time, will feel our collective stream of goodwill beaming towards them, wherever they are.

“There were days
and there were days
and there were days between
Summer flies and August dies
the world grows dark and mean…

Photo Source: Grateful Dead Archive Online. All Photos Via www.gdao.org

…there were days between
polished like a golden bowl
the finest ever seen
Hearts of Summer held in trust
still tender, young and green…” —Robert Hunter

Stay green my friends, and through the good times and bad, do your best to keep the spirit alive. Happy Days!

~~~ If the mood strikes you and it’s not too personal, share below (or on Facebook, Twitter or any other medium) how you will be, or have been, celebrating this year. And please like our Facebook page, Grateful Globotz, or follow us on Twitter @GratefulGlobotz, so you won’t miss any future postings out of our camp. #DaysBetween ~~~

If you have gotten something out of anything you’ve read on this site, and are able, we’d be eternally grateful for whatever you can contribute to our emerging blog (could be as little as a buck, or as much as you gather we’re worth). We will use the proceeds to buy a domain name, spruce up the website, and add new features. The goal is to make this a smoother and more inclusive experience for everyone!

Thanks 🙂

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iz_gT0M9q-4&w=420&h=315]

Dear Youngins: A Message To Post-Jerry Deadheads

by Russell S. Glowatz

This is a message for all those post-Jerry deadheads out there that came of age after 1995, and on occasion feel like they’re perpetually longing for something that occurred before their time. I was inspired to write this after seeing a young deadhead post a “woe is me for not seeing Jerry” YouTube comment under the video of Grateful Dead performing “So Many Roads” at their last concert on July 9th, 1995. That soulful performance represented an increasingly rare, yet strong showing by Garcia in those later years, and I can not deny sometimes feeling a sense of yearning when scrolling through those now old videos. Yet even as post-Jerry heads, we have A LOT to be grateful for.

As post-Jerry Deadheads we’ve had plenty to be thankful for in the recent past, and plenty to be appreciative for in the future. We’re alive. Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart are still kicking and avidly making music for the masses. We are still basking in a stellar five show run featuring arguably the closest replications of bona fide Grateful Dead shows that we will get to see in our lifetimes. Whether in Chi-town, across the greater USA, or just about anywhere on Earth (sans North Korea), we’ve had the opportunity to take in these shows, LIVE! Pay-per-view, IMAX simulcasts, SiriusXM, cable TV, bootleg video streams, taper audio streams, #taperrob, with up to the minute live social networking. None of us have had much an excuse not to celebrate one way or another this past week regardless of our geographic locale. Technology, man. It’s a trip.

“And the band keeps playing’ on!” Weir, Hart, and Kreutzmann are heavily rumored to be going out on tour together this very fall. Phil Lesh has a residency planned starting in October at Peter Shapiro’s Capitol Theater in Port Chester, NY. Phil is playing Lockn’ this summer, Bobby and Billy are playing The Peach. Mickey, Bill, Phil, and Bobby have various on and off again side projects of their own. They all play Dead music! They all reinvent this music time and time again. Have you heard Mickey Hart Band? Talk about reinvention! And while Phil plays residencies in New York, he also plays them out west at his very own Terrapin Crossroads. Bobby founded TRI Studios, a state of the art live streaming concert facility. He’s part owner of the Sweetwater Music Hall in Mill Valley. Ratdog. Ratdog. Ratdog. We will be seeing lots of Bobby. But yeah, these guys are old, and it’s not the same, and they won’t exactly be around forever, but they’re around now, and its pretty effing good! Take it in.So yeah, one day they’ll all be gone. But guess who will be here? Us post-Jerry deadheads. And Dark Star Orchestra. Joe Russo’s Almost Dead. Umpteen Grateful Dead cover bands. Some of the national variety, some of the local home-brewed camp. Some will entirely reinvent the music, while some will aim for total replication, and those that do will create scenarios where if you close your eyes you’ll feel like you’re at a genuine authentic Dead show. There’ll be lots of gatherings, albeit smaller than the old days, but they’ll be unforgettable and nostalgic.

There will be bigger shakedowns for younger bands like Phish, Widespread Panic, and The String Cheese Incident, and a plethora of face melting jam bands. And if a handful of older jaded deadheads give you crap about liking Phish, go tell ’em to eff themselves (Let Trey Sing). And then think to yourself that when “the band’s all packed and gone,” we’ll still be here dancing and shaking our bones to so much amazing music. And there will be younger deadheads; a new generation. This is gonna happen, because truly the music never does stop.

And those who, from time to time, make you feel that you missed out by not seeing Jerry…those folks?!? They’ll be dead. And the new generation of deadheads will look to us and ask us “what was it like to see the core four play live and together?” “How good were all their solo projects?” “Where were you for Fare Thee Well?” “Did they really manufacture a rainbow?!?” Some of our generation may make them feel bad because really, assholes exist in every subculture, mainstream and otherwise. So the assholes will be assholes, but you my friend don’t have to be one. Remember how you feel now, and down the road remind the youngins of all the great music that is around for them. Regale them with your stories, but don’t belittle them. For you once were them.

In this never-ending story that is the Grateful Dead, we are the lucky ones. Yes, it would’ve been nice to have been born a few decades earlier (could have dodged this climate change business to boot), but we are pretty damn fortunate. We will be the last to hear the Grateful Dead canon first hand. We will be the last to hear the songwriters and musicians play these songs in the flesh. We will be torch carriers, as was the band and the generation before us, to us. We will take the gospel of the Grateful Dead into the first fully post-Dead generation. It will be passed down. “So it shall be written. So it shall be done.” The Deadhead Community will survive. “We will survive.”

a2c35c4afcdf5403041ab0f03b62a779 — Source: Charles Shultz

“Some rise, some fall, some climb,” and there will always be deadheads.

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