Five stories from my time spent with the Dead...
I missed the boat, it seemed. The days of chasing a sound around this country appeared long gone..not just gone for me, but for our generation and all those going further.
Blossoming in the late 60’s, the culture surrounding the Grateful Dead obviously has become the stuff of legend. Roaming souls gathering at show after show, setting up make-shift villages for a night or two...then moving to the next town. A welcoming and wonderful subculture suddenly born.
For me--the Dead came passing through in tiny ripples, growing up. Little earworms would stick around for weeks at a time, but the vastness of their catalog always overwhelmed me and left me spinning. Things would get too deep, or I’d just become disconnected. Never the less, songs like Franklin’s Tower, Friend of the Devil and Eyes of the World sparked my interest, years before my tastes actually took off.
As moments came and went, I slowly tackled more and more of their offerings and ultimately found myself carving the band into my “Music Mt. Rushmore”. Through winding runs, sleepless nights, difficult decisions and milestone celebrations, the band kept me on.
For Deadheads around the globe, 2015 was earmarked as something special. The band’s 50th Anniversary was highlighted by a final run of shows featuring the remaining, living members.”The Core Four” were then accompanied by Trey Anastasio, filling the impossible hole of Jerry Garcia. Excitement was at a fever pitch and despite not being able to attend, I was tuned in. And man, those five shows really gave the Dead community a strong jolt. It was suppose to be a send off, instead, John Mayer came along.
While many folks were skeptical, I’d been well aware of Mayer’s playing chops, as well as his distorted image, for awhile. Throughout most of my grade school years, I was a torchbearer for JM, quick to throw his name into a “great guitarists” debate. Constantly pushing others to look deeper into his albums and past his formulated radio hits. Usually people scoffed and I certainly understood. The man and his label did him little favor, in that regard. For years, he was targeted, first and foremost, as a singer of shallow pop tunes. So unfortunately and inexplicably, guitar virtuoso and celebrated songwriter were distinctions pushed to the wayside. But when opportunity knocked, Mayer was quick to answer.
So, in the fall of 2015, with Deadheads divided, a new band set sail. Dead and Company, anchored by Bob Weir and Mayer took off and away we went. My group was lucky to catch them on their quick jaunt through the arena circuit over in Greensboro, NC during early November of that year. The entire experience was really something. It all started, as it always does, in the lots. A tailgate, complete with choice craft brews, ENC BBQ, and some home-baked goods put us in the proper place. And the scene at Shakedown still seems difficult to put into words..so many vendors, smiling faces, happy vibes. The night felt right before I even walked into the coliseum.
Bobby’s Hell in a Bucket will forever be the song that kicked off my live Dead experience and for that, a trigger switched in me. Like most people, and for good reason, I’d been enamored by Jerry Garcia—paying little attention to “the other one” singing on those old tapes. Quickly though, I realized I’d been dismissing the one that really jived with me. There’s a quirk to Weir, something that makes him a bit more human and relatable than Garcia ever could be…But no time to dawdle there right now, my first show was just beginning.
Crazy Fingers came around next, and it pains me to say that I just wasn’t in on the song at that time. It’s a beautiful, drippy tune—but I’m not sure if its one that Dead & Co was able to really master. Next up was a joyous sing-a-long in He’s Gone. The Grateful Dead “Stealie” is one of—if not the, most recognizable band logo ever. And to belt out “steal your face..” with 20,000 others was goosebump-inducing, to say the least. After that trifecta, the band ran through a quick rendition of Me & My Uncle, an upbeat cowboy tune that pays off in the end, for those with a sense of humor.
Up to that point, I’d noticed a certain timidness in Mayer, that I definitely wasn’t used to from his solo performances. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. There was a streak of humility that hadn’t been there before, a sense of respect. And yet something waiting to take off, too. Ship of Fools was that departure, falling right into JM’s bluesy wheelhouse. I mean holy shit, I could go on and on about this tune, on that night. It was so incredibly special and luckily in that moment, I was right in tune with it. Dead & Co. haven’t played the song since, but I believe it to be the moment where all his searching and reservation ran into his confidence and openness, from the past. From there, he’s never looked back. Lost Sailor and Saint of Circumstance closed out the first set, but I was still stuck in Fools.
The second set was really all that you could ask for in a first show. A bunch of friendly, familiar jams that came through one after another. Jack Straw opened with the infamous ramblings of the title character. Following close behind was a bubbling Shakedown, then the standard Scarlet>>Fire. And boy, we were really having some fun as Drums>>Space took us deeper into the night. The Other One and Wharf Rat doled out some introspective ballads before One More Saturday Night closed things out.
If not for the state-of-the-art tech setup, surrounding us in light and music, I could’ve easily been convinced that I was hanging out for the evening in 1977. And if all of that wasn’t enough, Bob and John came back out and brought with them a gorgeous, stripped down Friend of the Devil, ala American Beauty, that blew the whole place away and capped off a wild and wacky evening..something really incredible. Something I needed again and again. But, life kept on and before I knew it, their quick experiment had reached its end..or so I thought.
———————————————————————————————————
With winter, brings hope for longer days. And a brand new set of tour dates came through. A sprawling summer tour, just like those from days past, now set. This time, despite a busy schedule, I was ready to grab more.
The tour opened in Charlotte, NC on June 10th, and I’d be there. Good Lord, it was a hot one..and a long drive for a Friday afternoon. Hours in traffic and minutes in the tailgate lot. But man, being outdoors for this music felt like a fine match. And with all the strangers stopping strangers, it was apparent that something old had become new again.
The place was packed and we had a tough time getting through the ticket line. So packed, in fact, that the band starting playing before we found our spot in the lawn. An egregious act, in my opinion, yet one that proved to be a motif, for my summer-as you’ll later see. But from the first chords, it was apparent the band had gelled eve more in the offseason. During the fall, it felt genuine enough. But still in some ways, it was like seeing a really talented cover band. In Charlotte, a new level had been reached and a new band was settling into their first set of the summer.
Music Never Stopped set the tone as opener for the evening. Cold Rain & Snow ripped through the June blaze. And then a paced, easy breezing, Friend of the Devil put the place on its head. From there, Mayer took the reins on a beautiful take of They Love Each Other that really found its footing with a nice jam from Jeff Chimenti on the keys. Soon enough Bobby was leading the crowd through the happy-go-lucky, Liberty, smiles all around. I’ll mention Promised Land, as it gave a nice nod to Charlotte and closed the first set. But really, the show stopper was just before, an 18-minute look into Cassidy that broke all the rules. At a certain point, I couldn’t tell if the song was coming or going. Falling in and out of its structure, seamlessly. It’s a really pretty tune, that tears me apart in so many different ways. So, to get it in such an elevated state was amazing and something I return to now, often.
During the set break, Alex, Hunter and I ventured around for our usual vices and it seemed as though the entire place was riding high on this wave of resurgence the band brought. Now as I mentioned, the lines to get in were ridiculous and in turn, tickets were scarce…I’ve been to a number of shows and never seen lawn tickets sell out, but this was a whole different animal. I usually show up to shows and find a ticket without a problem, but this was looking rough. However, I took this slight misfortune and turned it into an upgrade that really took the night to another level. I bit the bullet and snagged a pavilion seat, putting me about 12 rows from the stage, but all by myself. Fortunately, sneaking into the lawn is no problem, regardless of a sell out or your actual seat number. And because of that, I was able to spend the set one, surrounded by friends.
But for the second set, curiosity got the best of me. So, I ventured off alone, down to my seat and was greeted by a whole host of characters that shored up the vibe for the rest of night. Just as I was settling into my new surroundings, the band came back and opened with one of my original favorites..Eyes of the World. I adore songs that lay out big, beautiful ideas in simplistic terms. Eyes fits that bill; maybe even wrote that bill. It’s a breathtaking tune to take in on a summer night. The band then fell into their first “cowboy tune” of the night. Deal is just plain fun to me. Going from the looseness of Eyes into a tighter jam here was a really nice contrast and showed the band hitting its stride. Upping the ante from there, was a toiling but strong Estimated Prophet--a song that places the listener on the shores of California, and those golden state vibes never disappoint. After the hot start, Drums>>Space was much needed, as I let the spectacle of it all wash over me.
The show could’ve ended right there, as unfortunately the rest of the night (Black) Petered out. Feel Like A Stranger is an odd choice in the late set, to me. And Lovelight was soaked in political fare, as the band took an opportunity to speak out on the controversial North Carolina HB2 “Bathroom Bill” which put an end to the night. I disapprove of the bill, too—but I struggle to see the worth in spending limited concert minutes discussing such things. As a result, we missed out on an encore.
Still, it couldn’t be denied, the band had become a force--and I was sure to follow.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Taking the Dead into an introspective space is where you can really get carried away. And fortunately I’ve found an outlet for the unique isolation required to make that whole thing take off…Running. In all seriousness, running is the best drug I’ve ever done. Sure, it’s highly addictive, sometimes can cause injury and interferes with daily life..but the positives far out weigh all that. It’s a most intense form of therapy, a quick way to empty the mind, an extended moment to ponder and seems to be pretty fantastic for the body, too.
Once I started throwing music into the mix, the whole experience grew exponentially. Over the years the Grateful Dead have carried me down more greenways, trails and paths than any other band, except maybe one. And in the past year or so, they’ve at least evened the score with my perennial favorites; DMB. Perhaps even overtaking the guys from Charlottesville. There’s an element to this music that really allows you to find a pace, locking in for a miles and miles. I think it’s the art of a nuanced jam. One that builds but never overpowers. One that glides you into a higher plane rather than catapulting you up there. Here’s some of my favorite songs and moments.
Looking back, the best part of my running saga is that I straight up sucked in the beginning. I was laughed out of baseball for my lack of speed and kicked off of basketball courts for my lack of stamina. And when I first started running on my own, during college, it wasn’t pretty. But when would Friend of the Devil shuffle into my playlist, things always looked up. I’d gallop around a little neighborhood next to my apartment complex and when those first words came through my headphones, a big grin would steal across my face.
I lit out from Reno,
I was trailed by twenty hounds
Didn’t get to sleep that night
TIl the morning came around
It’s one of my earliest running memories. And the song remains a bit of mantra for me, to this day. Reminding me to just get out there…even I don’t feel like it, even if the weather doesn’t look so great, even if I’m too busy…
I set out running,
But I take my time
As running morphed into less of a forced exercise and more of an enjoyed hobby, I ramped up the competition in myself and became obsessed with pushing harder. As a rule, I refuse to run officially timed races with my tunes—I think of them as a bit of a performance enhancer. But in training, I listen and look to carve certain lyrics and songs into my mind so that the thought of them lifts me up during difficult portions of a course.
During my training for the 2015 Neuse River Bridge Run, I listened to the album, Terrapin Station, almost exclusively. The whole thing is damn near perfect but Estimated Prophet, Samson & Delilah, and Terrapin Station really got me. Terrapin, in particular provided the mantra I repeated over and over in the final miles on that crisp October race day. I even carried a notecard in my pocket during the race with these lyrics written on it...
Some rise,
Some fall,
Some climb,
To get to Terrapin
The thought there being that some folks rise—or get to the top, without much effort. Some fall—the reality being that most of us fall. However, there are some that fall but will still get back up and instead, climb. I’m determined to be a climber. Running isn’t easy for me. Nothing in life has really been all that easy for me, to be honest. But if I fall, I’m not just going to lie down. I set a PR that morning (1:28:05), finished third overall and have Terrapin to thank for a lot of my drive to get there...
Now, my usual training route in downtown New Bern has been set in stone for sometime. It’s right around four and a half miles, incorporates the main road leading to Tryon Palace, leads me to the river and even allows me to cross the Cunningham Drawbridge. And because of my constant tracking on that path, I can basically cover the ground there with my eyes closed. This is wonderful, especially for taking in some of these transcendent tunes. A few that standout and have been staples in my playlists are…
I’m not sure what it is about brown eyed women, but they really do get to me—and so does this tune. If I had to pick an emotion within songs that seems to draw me in, I’d have to go with the sense of melancholy. I’m not sure why, but it just seems to strike the right chord in regards to life, for me. There’s always some happiness to be found in a melancholy tune, but that happiness is cloaked in the reality that something unfortunate has happened, or is just around corner. There’s something so real in that..life ain’t all roses. I’m also pretty big on ballads, or story-driven songs. Brown Eyed Women falls into both of those categories. Throw in a hint of Depression-era America, along with a catchy riff and I’m gone.
Sound of the thunder
With the rain pouring down
And it looks like the old man’s
Gettin’ on
Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodeloo
As I’ve continued to travel around the country, the temptation to leave my home in the American South continues to grow, as well. I love it here, but there’s so much more to been seen and immerse myself in. And I like to think that ENC will always be here waiting if I decide otherwise. When this hoedown jam hits, I’m ready to take off!
Hello baby, I’m gone goodbye
Half a cup of rock and rye
Farewell to you
Old southern skies
Technically a cover, but this an old folk song the Dead made their own. When love songs get complicated, I get interested, and there’s plenty of interpretation to take on this one. I like to think of the jam portion in this one as being a time where you get to sort out the details of the story, however you see fit. Sometimes it changes, sometimes you get lost. Plus, it’s one of many tunes where the brilliance of Jerry Garcia is on full display.
Our captain fell in love
With a lady like a dove
And he called her by name,
Pretty Peggy-O
Specifically from the live recording, Wake Up To Find Out, this is an instance of the band hitting on all cylinders, with a celebrated guest in tow. Stones takes a stab at the damaged political climate and the sadden state of world affairs. It’s a big picture, Bobby tune. But that doesn’t mean Jerry is discounted in any way, as he pulls out one of his finest solos. Brent’s piano fills are on point. Phil and the Rhythm Devils keep a nice bounce, as always. And then, Branford Marsalis, the esteemed jazz composer, drops in with a fantastic display, on the sax.
So the kids they dance
And shake their bones
And the politicians, throwing stones
Singing ashes, ashes—all fall down
Finally, I’ll drop a plug for the most hallowed of Dead running spots. Over in Richmond, VA there’s great greenway system that connects, by way of a pedestrian bridge, to a small piece of under-developed land called Belle Isle. You can jaunt around the isle pretty quickly, but what makes it special is an otherwise inconsequential landmark. If you look closely while rounding the bend on the far side, you’ll see a rock out in the river. On it, painted faintly is the “Stealie” logo that Deadheads, as well as, much of the western world will immediately recognize as the band’s main logo. It’s a little spot, but it continues to remind me that running through this great country, as much as possible, is exactly what I need to be doing right now. And it never fails to conjure up these lyrics from Box of Rain, in me.
And it’s just a box of rain
I don’t know who put it there
Believe it, if you need it
Or leave it, if you dare.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nothing feels more American than a road trip. It’s easily my favorite pastime and as I’ve said previously, I’m just as much about the journey, as I am the destination. But, as I’ve traversed much of the country with work, I’ve noticed something rather disheartening. For the most part, the folks I see in airports and gas stations are weary travelers. Unhappy to be going somewhere. And while I’m certain that most of the folks I see are leaving children and spouses at home or under levels of stress and responsibility I can’t comprehend, I still don’t get why it seems most people won’t embrace the idea of making the best of what’s around.
When I’m out on the road with the job, I take care of my business—first and foremost. But the very next thing I do is look for a way to enjoy the hell out of my free time. Often, if I’m close to a city or event on my list, I’ll end up putting myself up for the weekend and really get in there.
It’s interesting how sometimes, things just line up when you want them to. So, as I was preparing for a business trip to Lansing, MI, I noticed the Dead were rolling through Central Indiana on Friday of that same week. Seeing that it was only a three hour drive to get down there, I grabbed onto the new adventure at hand.
I wrapped up work in downtown Lansing around 10:30 that morning and away I went, driving through the midwest countryside. It’s such a ridiculously underrated portion of the country. It’s beauty is in its simplicity and sincerity. The people that live there love it and embrace travelers more than anywhere else that I’ve been.
Before too long, I was closing in on Indianapolis and decided to take a quick look at the capital city. After running through the main portion of downtown, I found myself in the Broad Ripple neighborhood, taking in some craft brews and sampling other local fare. Now, stocked up with my essentials, I bid a momentary farewell to our world and prepared to go head first into the Dead’s atmosphere, once again.
This was no ordinary stay with the Dead, as Deer Creek Amphitheater, located out in Noblesville, IN offers a picturesque lay of the land, with multiple campgrounds surrounding the venue. I’d planned ahead and shipped my tent up that way a week prior and came equipped to handle a full afternoon and evening under the stars and immersed in the scene. Set up was easy enough, I pulled right in, found an appropriate spot and got on with it! Before long, I’d befriended my neighbors for the night and took off into the ethereal Indiana breeze.
One thing that’s worth noting is that with travel, especially on your own, you’re gonna make plenty of mistakes. Mostly because no one else is there to check you on questionable decisions. Not learning from my Charlotte ticket issues, I showed up again, without one in hand. It didn’t appear to be much of a problem, as I easily found someone willing to sell an “extra” they had for about $15—what a deal! Unfortunately, as I made my way through the masses up to the gate, I was hit with the unfortunate news that I had been sold a fake. Oh well, I hooked up an old hippie, I guess—people helping people!
Luckily, the situation did little to harsh my vibe, as I quickly headed over to the box office to get a genuine stub. However, the delay in my entrance caused me to yet again, miss the opening song of the show. This time, New Minglewood Blues kicked things off. Not a bad song by any means, but not too painful to drop in at the end of it. Next up was really nice take of Cumberland Blues. Something cool about that song is it’s transformation of the years. The Cumberland from their 1971 Workingman’s Dead album, sounds quite a bit different from the Dead and Company take. And I really think Dead & Co. hits this one out of the park. It’s far superior to the version played during 2015’s Fare Thee Well shows.
I’d found a nice spot on the lawn, about as close as you could get without being in a seat. Surrounded by tapers and veteran Deadheads, folks that have being circuiting the show scene for years. I could tell that one guy in particular was a bit weary of me, a little unsure of my motivations for being there. As the next string of notes started up, he quickly tried to pick up on where the band was heading and called out “He’s Gone”, I felt something just a bit different, looked over at him, grinned and guessed “Ramble on Rose”. Sure enough, it was Ramble and just like that, I’d won him over. Into his circle I went, and the set kept on.
The show was off to a solid start, but at this point it morphed into a really special run for me. With Ramble putting things in place, I was the hit back-to-back by Black-Throated Wind and Althea; two songs that really connect deeply with me. The first, a strong but somber Bobby tune that hits too close to home at times. And then, Althea, another one of those melancholic tunes that uses a fun riff to mask its sadness. Furthermore, Althea was the tune that initially hooked Mayer on the Dead, so it was pretty sweet to see him go off on that one. Running symmetrically to the Greensboro show, the first set closed with Sailor>>Saint. But I was taken, once again by the songs slotted just before.
I don’t really remember much about the set break except that I found a new spot in the lawn, a bit higher up. And after while, we were off setting sail, again. Folks had been anticipating a Dark Star for quite awhile and the Deer Creek crowd was graced with a deeply-rooted twenty-minute trip into the depths of that one. The strong open that set the tone for rest of the night. Next a cover of Dylan’s A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall came through the gates. And while not a great take--in my opinion, I like the song and the sentiment, a whole lot. In the third slot, He’s Gone actually did make an appearance. I’m certain to the chagrin of my “first-set shot caller”. By the way, I’ll take a He’s Gone at every show, with a big smile. Finishing up, Gone jumped fiercely into New Speedway Boogie, which absolutely lit the place on fire. With no time to slow down, except to mention that you really oughta check out Courtney Barnett’s cover of Speedway; the band transitioned into a sprawling St. Stephen. Okay look, I promise it’s not just because of the name, but it doesn’t hurt. But seriously, this one has a permanent spot in my list of top songs, all-time. The sounds, the story, and the aura of it all—it’s just a perfect song. And I was overwhelmed.
Thankfully, after taking in such a powerful one, the band dropped into Drums>>Space. It’s such a good moment in the show to gather your thoughts and then scramble them up again, for the stretch run. And while the Charlotte show, earlier in the summer, faltered towards the end, this one kept on humming. Looks Like Rain is another heartbreaker from Bobby, and man, he was all-in on it, this night. He really gave everything he had to the songs and then some. Finally, closing out the set was a celebratory Going Down The Road Feeling Bad, complete with a spot on vocals for bassist, Oteil Burbridge.
The crowd kept on, and the guys came back out and nailed Black Muddy River in the encore. There couldn’t have been a dry eye in the house, as Mayer lead us all through the last song Jerry sang before his untimely death over 20 years ago. The show was over but my night had just begun.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The tired trope of being born a generation or two late seems to be an all too common complaint of this age. So, to close out my summer with the Dead, I’d like to take a moment to reflect on a journey that I couldn’t have made in any summer other than Our Year of the Lord, 2016.
The evolution of a Couch Tour is still something that I don’t think most people have fully realized. With dedicated tapers and the proper channels, a show can be streamed anywhere across the world. Filling up any living room, back porch or bedroom that wishes to be with the sound. So, on numerous occasions this past summer, I stumbled into amazing moments and noteworthy sets, all while soaking in the comforts of home, surrounded by friends and most importantly- cheaper, better beer.
Bonnaroo kicked off Couch Tour ’16 and the setup set the bar for the rest of the summer. On a unusually cool June evening, sandwiched between my Carolina and Indiana shows, the Dead played a festival set and everything about it took shape fast. With little planning, Hunter came over and a wall of sound was quickly created on my back patio, complete with live video and a very miniature, albeit perfectly heady, Shakedown. In all, Bird Song & Tennessee Jed stood out as the show stoppers. Along with that, the stream through in a nice behind the scenes look at Bonnaroo through the years. While it might seem like a night that’s simple enough, as most couch tour experience probably appear, it’s still a memory I return that feels just as real and important as the shows I actually got out to.
Speaking of that, The Gorge is a bucket list, destination venue I’ve yet to get out to. Located way out in Washington state, relatively close to Seattle, it’s often referred to as heaven’s amphitheater. As its name suggests, the stage is situated right in front a jaw-dropping river valley gorge. And its isolated location invites guests to stay awhile, camp out and enjoy everything this uniquely scenic slice of the country has to offer. And due in large part to the aura surrounding this venue, many bands recognize it as a spot where an added inexplicable mystique finds its way into the music.
With this broad scale feel of the Gorge in mind, Couch Tour ‘16 then took a more personal turn. Again and again I return to the memory that music is what set off my friendship with Jim. Although we’ve shared common ground on a lot of other things; these tours, these trips and the bands we listen to made us friends further down the road that I think we otherwise would have been. But unfortunately, this summer wasn’t kind to our usual tour plans. For the first time in awhile, Jim couldn’t catch a show and it was obvious from the start that something was different. Over the past decade, we’ve seen some really good shit. So to experience a whopping summer like this one, sans Jim, felt really odd. Fortunately, things finally lined up for a virtual evening at the Gorge. We tuned in, later than usual with that west coast time zone playing in and fell into an extraordinary show that caught fire and spread. Brown Eyed Women and Eyes of the World touched perfection and the late July evening put a nice bow on a strong summer, or so I thought.
If it wasn’t already enough, Couch Tour caught an extension, all the way into October. After a night of friends and tacos, a light sparked. Phish, playing in Nashville that evening, pushed us on. Scrambling to pick up a link, Lydia and I settled in out on the screen porch and dropped into the second set of a show that will go down in jamband lore
Right as our stream took hold, Bob Weir strolled out on stage. And while our excitement was fever pitch, the possibilities still seemed a bit limited…Probably a one-off Dead tune, most likely a staple and then back out for a Bobby-less hour to close. But a familiar drum pattern kicked things off and soon it was clear that this was more than a hastily thrown together guest appearance. The band broke into Samson & Delilah, with Bobby on lead vocals and the place went berserk. From there, the ebb and flow on the night feels limited by words, but I’ll try.
As Samson closed, I was overjoyed. It brought together Phish and the Dead even moreso than Fare Thee Well. This was a reaching back across, a sincere acknowledgement from Bob, a show of respect from Phish..and still only just the beginning of a full embrace.
At this point, without the benefit of a video stream, we couldn’t tell if Bobby had left the stage after Samson, but of course, we assumed he must. Trey was leading the band into an original of theirs, Twist. Surely, Bob wouldn’t stick around to play on a Phish tune. But suddenly, his rhythm guitar came through the box, clear as day. A perfect song for Bobby to shine on and what had to be a surreal moment for Phish--to play their own tune with a living legend, in tow.
In all, it was a perfectly planned guest spot. A nice nod both ways, and now certainly, most definitely, the end—all we could ask for—but the music wouldn't stop! Next, a touching take on Phish’s Miss You with Bob singing Trey’s lyrics. Then back to the Dead with West L.A. and a very meta and appropriate, Playing in the Band. Finally a Quinn the Eskimo encore to shut things down.
In all, six songs and a run that will be discussed, dissected and listened to for always. Another fleeting moment where luckily the Couch Tour grabbed us and wouldn’t let go. And it seems things keep stringing together in such a way, here lately. As it is, I’m more than obliged to ride this train on out.
