Bob was robbed

The Grateful Dead have always been largely ignored — not just by the music industry overall, but by society writ large. This might have made sense in 1985, even after they had been touring regularly for 20 years. But then they scored their only top 10 hit with “Touch of Grey” and the live scene absolutely exploded — often with equal number of fans partying in the parking lot as there were inside the shows.

And still, they were considered an underground abnormality.

Dead and Company, the current incarnation to still feature original members, just held the 60 year anniversary for the band in their backyard at Golden Gate Park. It seems like society . . . should(?) finally be catching on? But still, they are largely overlooked by the music biz and often unknown by many in popular culture in general. There are even some “top guitarists of all time” lists floating around out there in which Jerry Garcia doesn’t even get mentioned. And likewise some “top bands of all time” lists that ignore the Dead.

I’ve never understood this phenomenon, but it is what it is.

So of course I wasn’t surprised when Bob Weir’s 2016 studio album “Blue Mountain” — his first solo album in literally 40 years — flew mostly under the showbusiness radar.

I think this was a crime, not against humanity, per se, but definitely a crime against music. This guy has been gracing the stage with his well-seasoned voice and absolutely authentic innovative rhythmic guitar chops for SIX DECADES. And this particular album, which was inspired by his time working as a ranch hand in Wyoming when he was fifteen years old, is poetic, nostalgic, beautiful, haunting, and mellifluous. So, to the music industry, I bewilderingly have to ask:

Don’t you think the guy deserved at least a NOD at the Grammys that year?

Well, it’s Grateful Dead, so I guess as mainstream as they actually became, they’re still considered some kind of  undisclosed anomaly overall. Probably just because they refused to play by the rules! So, IYKYK (“If you know, you know”), right? And those who do know, know what an incredible album it is, and can sit alone in a dark room away from anyone else, close their eyes, and endeavor on a journey amongst tumbleweeds, cattle, stars, rivers, mountains and mesas.

I, myself, love the desert — its geography, topography, temperature, flora, fauna, and everything else it has to offer. So, when I need an escape, I throw in this album, pump up the volume on my headphones and get transported to a magical space in a much simpler era.

And I get to watch Bob Weir punch cows. 😅

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