Been wanting to write my thoughts about Bob Weir, but it’s hard to know where to start. Harder still to know where to stop, but I’ll do my best. I see my musical journey (my Soul Road Trip?) like a long arc of causally related events, and even though I remember the first time he blew my mind and changed my life, I think he may have already made cameos on the arc before that. Influence prior to awareness of influence.
A little background for context:
The Beach Boys made me want to be in a band in 6th grade.
Eddie Van Halen made me want to play guitar in 7th grade.
The Edge helped me learn to play guitar and write music after that.
Hendrix, the Doors, The Beatles…all there as well, shaping and directing my arc.
Summer of ’86, I’m 16 yrs old, I’m a counselor at a hockey camp in Massachusetts. I’m dubbing tapes to add to my collection, borrowing from other counselors and campers, and I pick up Shakedown Street. It’s weird, but I like it. And there’s some hippie who works on campus who I see walking around with his acoustic and he’s playing Fire on the Mountain really well. My arc is buzzing, but I don’t know what to make of it. I am playing guitar constantly, starting to write little phrases that I don’t know how to use in a song, writing lyrics constantly, but I hate singing, hate my voice, not sure how to proceed.
Fall of ’88, freshman year at OSU, and my new Ohio friends are loaning me Dead bootlegs. Spring of ’89 these guys invite me to see my first Dead show in Cincinnati. We have seats in the nosebleeds, but my friend Creedon and I somehow sneak to the 2nd row before the show starts. I know so very little (they played China > Rider and I’d never heard it before!), but we were right in front of Bob and I was TRANSFIXED by his guitar playing and singing. TRANSFORMED. TRANSCENDED.
Of course Jerry was the main thing. And getting to see Mydland sing Blow Away from that close…it was ALL life changing. But I was a young guitarist/lyricist and it felt like Bob Weir was opening a door for me. Watching him sing Looks Like Rain…all those bizarre chords, the heart-wrenching soul, the dynamic ebb and flow, the vocal improv peak at the end…all new to me. Launch pad shit. Arc trajectory RECALCULATED.
After all that? – I still hated singing, and I realized quickly, as much as I loved songs like China Doll and Stella Blue, I still hated the way my voice sounded trying to sing those songs. But then I found myself singing along to some of Bob’s songs – The Other One, Jack Straw, Estimated Prophet, Supplication – and for the first time in my life I enjoyed singing. I wanted to sing. I thought maybe I could sing. Oh man, the arc was rainbow-spiraling round and round.
Prior to this, I’d been trying to find a lead singer to sing my early songs – Through Hiker, Lady Vanilla – I wanted to just play guitar and sing backup when needed. But now Bob had a left a smoking crater of my mind and suddenly I was finding my voice, finding myself, finding the thrill, finding the joy, finding the adventure. I’m telling you, he was the tipping point. (The best teachers don’t even know they’re teaching you. Remember how you learned? From some passive guide?)
As a direct result of Weir’s influence, I somehow managed to sing and play my way into several bands I loved. And eventually, 10 years after that life-changing Dead show in Cinci, I got to meet Bob backstage at Hookahville. I got to thank him for helping me learn to love singing. He was receptive and kind. And yeah, I loaned him a pair of shorts. Wasn’t on my bingo card, but there ya go.
A couple years later Hookah opened for Ratdog a few times on a Midwest tour. One night after a show I ended up on his bus drinking scotch with him. Just the two of us for like 45 minutes. I was desperately trying not to say stupid things and felt like I was failing. But we were talking about songwriting and I said something like,
“It’s tough for me sometimes, because I put so much into my songs, writing parts, working it all out, and our lead guitarist is just so amazing, I love how he elevates every song, but sometimes I feel sort of eclipsed.”
Bob looked right in my eyes and said, “I know just how you feel.”
That was a heavy, heavy moment. Super cool of him. So kind, like an older brother.
I’m so grateful to Vern and so many others for creating and maintaining a wonderful Grateful Dead scene in Columbus where I could learn and grow and thrive. I have been so fortunate on my own strange trip, too many people to thank really. But Bob Weir and his songs are how and why I learned to like singing. His guitar playing shocked me out of a safer realm. And that led to all the rest.
And the rest is in progress. My arc is ever resonating with your wild, weirdness, Bob. So yeah, it’s hard to know where this story ends.
Thanks Bobby. From the bottom of my grateful heart.