Category: the Dead, man…
Bertha trainwreck by Christian Crumlish & co.
Now it can be told
The walrus was nick…
I know a little something
Before applying the electrodes to the heart of the typewriter yesterday my last post here was about an experiment I started last July of posting videos of myself playing and singing songs to YouTube. That’s really where my “blogging” energy has been since then, as I have built of quite a body of performances. It’s […]
One day in California, 1987
What I do know is that at the end of the first set, Steve was basically a convert, utterly convinced that this was a thing and he was doing it. I’d gotten other friends to this point, especially after the exciting crescendo at the end of a first set. It’s a bit of a crossroads: some plunge in deeper, becoming Deadheads or at least fellow travelers who smile knowingly when certain sounds fill the air. Other turn back, fearing the loss of their identity in cultlike abandon, or clinging to their punk or anti-hippie identity.
A book for those who got in the bus in the '80s
… As we know, it couldn’t last. It was a bubble of sorts, but its surface tension held for a crucial stretch of years, long enough to sustain this pocket of the counterculture until reinforcements could arrive, tune up, plug in, and rock out….