Embarrassing 80's Moments: The Grateful Dead

For musicians that have been playing music for as long as the members of the Grateful Dead, it is interesting to see how their current musical identities have been shaped by their collective musical output from the past 45 years or so. Considering the vast range of music that has come in and out of vogue through the years, you would think that old men like Bob Weir, who have experienced more in their lifetimes than we could possibly comprehend, have musically collected a little bit from each decade they've lived and played through.

This is certainly the case with the 60s and 70s, which was the period in which the Dead formed their musical identity. Having crafted their blues/R&B/psychedelic/folky/boogie-woogie sound in the 60's and early 70's, the band added a more funky and jazz fusion edge to their music as the 70's progressed, even touching into disco grooves come the late 70s.

But then came the 80s. The prominent synthesized, slick musical trends of the 80s couldn't have possibly been more out of sync with the Dead's homegrown musical aesthetic. As the band relentlessly toured the country throughout the decade, it was apparent that the Dead kept their music contained in a protective bubble which kept the plastic, artificial musical trends of the time at bay (not counting Brent Mydland's cheesy MIDI keyboard sounds in the mid-80s). It seemed that the Dead willingly rejected the superficiality which 80s music had to offer, refusing to be influenced by the times. Well, there are a few exceptions which I'm sure these guys would prefer to forget...

Case in point, this amazingly awful/awesome 1984 timepiece from Bob Weir's 80s side band, Bobby and the Midnites. This pop document is made even more astounding by the fact that the drummer is Billy Cobham, one of the finest Jazz Fusion drummers of his time playing drums on a silly, silly song. Bobby's crazy eyes are priceless on this one. Can you spot the acid-head in the group?



Meanwhile, in another musical universe, future Dead keyboardist Bruce Hornsby was a struggling L.A. musician, taking whatever gigs he could get at the time. This resulted in his joining Sheena Easton's band as a synth/keyboardist, and playing on some fairly popular pop hits of 1984-85. This selected track is entitled "Sugar Walls." Here are some selected lyrics from this lovely little love song:

Blood races to your private spots, lets me know there's a fire
You can't fight passion when passion is hot
Temperatures rise inside my sugar walls
(My sugar walls) Oooh (my sugar walls)
Come inside (my sugar walls) , my sugar walls (my sugar walls)
Come spend the night inside my sugar walls (my sugar walls)

Such a beautiful ode to love could only be written by one man. The author of "Sugar Walls"? Prince!!! Yes, that's right, the Prince. And playing keys on this ditty by Prince, Jerry Garcia's future musical cohort, Bruuuce Hornsby! Who would have thunk? There's a good shot of him at 2:11:



When the Dead were finally accepted by MTV and the masses in '87 with "Touch of Grey," they did it tastefully, on their own creative terms. While his musical peers and cohorts from the 60s were out there stinking it up and selling their souls for the Regan dollar, Jerry never pandered to such things like catchy synth-pop and music videos. He was way too busy doing H-bomb and tinkering with his Steinberger headless guitar and personal computer to be bothered with any of that stuff. Or was it the 80s' bankrupt musical landscape that was driving him to the junk? The world may never know...

Al Di Meola Review - Jambase.com

Al Di Meola has long been considered one of the most dazzling jazz-rock guitarists of his, or any generation. This sit-down, semi-formalized jazz performance of his World Sinfonia band was perfectly executed, flawless instrumental world music. Though at times it teetered dangerously close to a New Age-y sound, it never quite got there, and the music instead traversed the delicate path of beautiful harmonic compositions. Here's my review of this Jazz-Fusion guitar master's performance:


Al Di Meola's World Sinfonia :: 02.27.09 :: Palace of Fine Arts :: San Francisco, CA


This footage gives an idea of the sound that this band is capable of. Watch Di Meola's fingers fly over the fretboard. The effortlessness is astounding.

Chico Mann Review - Jambase.com

Recently I was lucky to cover a record release party for the granddaddy of Latin Boogaloo, Joe Cuba. It was headlined by Chico Mann, guitarist in the afrobeat band Antibalas who has his own electro DJ side project that mashes up dance music from all genres into one big funky electric stew.

Chico Mann :: 02.11.10 :: Elbo Room :: San Francisco, CA

Here is some footage from that night that gives a sense of the mish-mash style that Chico Mann brings to the table, where he covers Joe Cuba songs, but adds some funky-ass beatz in there to modernize the tunes.

Wagon Wheel / Rock Me, Mama

A few years ago, I was turned on to Old Crow Medicine Show by a friend of mine. After listening to most of their self-titled debut album, I decided that I liked their jug-band/old-timey/moonshine throw-down approach, and deemed myself a fan. I dug the tunes, though they were nothing mind-blowingly original. Then the final song on the album started up, and changed everything. The song was incredible. "Wagon Wheel" was one of those rare eye-opening, life-affirming tunes that made me all warm and fuzzy inside, made me smile to myself and think about the people I loved. And best of all, you could really sing along to it. It was absolutely timeless and catchy, the perfect campfire song.



At the time, I thought to myself, "Wow, this song is so much better than every other song on this album, it's an instant classic!" Though the rest of the album is also very enjoyable, "Wagon Wheel"'s absolute perfection made it seem a bit out of place with the rest of the songs on the album, and I wondered why.

Well, the answer to this is unexpected, but not surprising at all once it is known. The reason "Wagon Wheel" is so fucking incredible is because it was written by Bob Dylan! Duh! It seems so obvious now, doesn't it?

It turns out that old Bobby D had originally recorded this song as a rough, half-baked demo called "Rock Me, Mama" back in 1973 for his Billy the Kid Soundtrack album. There were no verses, just a chorus and some mumbles. It didn't make the final cut, and went unused. Somehow, almost 30 years later, Ketch Secor of Old Crow stumbled upon the unreleased recordings, and wrote his own verses for the tune, transforming it into the tune we know and love. The band got permission from Bobby to use his discarded gem, and the song is now officially credited to Dylan/Secor. Another testament to the legend of Dylan, who's output is so prolific that his musical trash can be picked up and turned into pure gold.

"Wagon Wheel" ended up being the song that put Old Crow Medicine Show on the map, making them the most popular old-timey jug-band in the country. This is not to downplay their talents as a band (they are awesome live), but rather to acknowledge their massive debt to old Zimmy. Here's Dylan's original demo:

Keller Williams Review - Jambase.com

I just reviewed a performance of Keller Williams, the multi-instrumentalist virtuoso hippie one-man-band. His acoustic guitar playing is astounding, but some of the effect is lost to his flippy-dippy vocals and silly demeanor. Regardless, he is unapologetic about his musical personality, and wears it with pride on his sleeve. And whether you like his songs or not, the man can rip it up on acoustic. Here's my take on his show:

Keller Williams :: 11.21.09 :: Great American Music Hall :: San Francisco, CA

To give a sense of his stage skills, here are two very different clips which showcase different sides of his performance. This version of "Best Feeling" showcases his pure instrumental virtuosity, and is also one of his better songs:




On the flip-side of the spectrum, this version of "More Than A Little" is a great example of how he uses his looping skills to lay down some funky dance-party beats:



All and all, the guy puts on one hell of a show.

Ornette Coleman Review - Jambase.com

Recently I was lucky enough to catch a true legend perform in concert. Ornette Coleman has blazed his own singular musical path for 50 years now, and has no peers when it comes to the music he plays. He defines his musical approach through the term harmolodics, a musical philosophy which is not bound by chords, key or time signatures, and has no tonal center whatsoever.

Listening to Ornette's type of music is often jarring and off-putting at first, but once you open up to it, it is mind-blowing in its expressiveness. Here's my review of the show for Jambase:

Ornette Coleman :: 11.08.09 :: Davies Symphony Hall :: San Francisco, CA

To get a sense of what a powerful experience seeing this man live is, here is a clip of him performing at Bonnaroo 2007. You either get it, or you don't. If you don't, you're missing out:

Brit-Rock Mullets of the 70s

The unfortunate hairstyle commonly referred to as a "mullet" is commonly known to have reached its fashionable peak in the 1980s. And though this fashion abomination may be most commonly associated with clueless hicks and douchebags, few may know of it's curious beginnings - particularly in Britain during the early to mid-1970s.

Granted, over the years there have been countless other rock and roll fashion tragedies worth mentioning (just look at this sad, pathetic sight), but the mullet's prevalence amongst England's rock and roll royalty (approx. 1972-1976) is a phenomenon too widespread to not warrant a closer examination. Around this time, a particular proto-mullet was sprouting from Brit Rocker dome-pieces left and right, making for a blimey brotherhood of bitchin' hair that was probably cool at the time (but unconceivable to us in 2009). These brave men were trailblazers ahead of their time, and helped to make the world safe for mulleters everywhere throughout the 80s. They rocked their Brit-mullets with gusto, and pulled them off, sometimes. Here is a list of said Brits:












Faces-era Rod Stewart














Faces-era Ronnie Wood













Exile-era Keith Richards in 1972












Genesis-era Phil Collins (minus 50 points for balding mullet)


Wings-era Paul and Linda McCartney (what the fuck, Paul? I mean, really.)

And finally, the man who's proto-mullet broke down more doors towards mullet acceptance than all of the previous rockers combined....

Ziggy era David Bowie, 'nuff said. He actually makes it cool, somehow, even today. Not sure how, but Bowie pulls it off. Good job, Bowie.

Toto's "Africa" - I Bless the Rains!

For a period in my life back in '07 or so, it seemed like Toto's "Africa" was following me around everywhere I went. Granted, I went through a phase where I was thoroughly obsessed with the song and its accompanying album, Toto IV (probably due to my discovery of Toto through the Yacht Rock series). This obsession started off as ironic, and gradually morphed into a genuine, authentic love for the song, which to my ears still exudes sonic and melodic perfection. The Toto boys were the master craftsmen of studio work in the early 80s, and it is no coincidence that Quincy Jones and Michael Jackson, in their plotting to rule the world, recruited them to help with production on Thriller.

My obsession aside, it got a little weird there for a while. I was hearing "Africa" on the radio way more than I had ever remembered hearing it before. This reached a head when I took a vacation to Jamaica. In all the cabs we took around the island, the radio played dancehall and reggae music almost exclusively. But then, in the midst of all this Jamaican music, while riding in the back seat of a cab to Treasure Beach watching the sunset, the only American song I've heard all week starts playing - "da-da-da-da-da-da-da-daaaa..." Who knew that Jamaica loves Toto? I was amused, if not a bit spooked.

So the vacation ends, and I take my plane home to Boston. Plane lands, I walk to baggage claim, wait for my luggage. Amidst the terminal echoes and P.A. announcements, the carousel turns, my bags round the corner, and the ceiling speakers go "da-da-da-da-da-da-da-daaaa..." What the fuck?!!

It must be noted that this is one of the few songs that I can listen to hundreds of times, and it simply does not get old. All my weird run-ins with "Africa" have made my day a little better, resulting in happy sing-alongs.

And so I was super-psyched to stumble across this version yesterday by a Slovenian acapella group. This is awesome and must be watched, even if you don't like acapella. It's fairly ridiculous, as they take themselves a little too seriously, but check out their take on the synthesizer solo at 4:43. Love it!