03-02-2015, 12:26 PM
For my birthday, I finally made the trek to Terrapin Crossroads, the San Rafael restaurant and club that Phil Lesh built (Grateful Dead bass player for DOOM non-deadheads). It pulled Stacy and me back deep into the Dead zone, and Tara too, but let me start at the beginning.
I had lovely breakfast at my local diner Seabreeze where they put a candle in a blueberry in my fruit cup. Then there was a complete rainbow over Seabright. Then when we got home, there was a dead bird right smack in front of the bungalow front door, a gift from one of the local cats. They all came by later to see if I liked it. I spent the morning on facebook which was really amusing as the ticketmaster scramble for GD50 was in full swing, and my 2K+ friends were all wishing me HBD (got like 200+, some of which were rather funny). Then we made it for Terrapin. We tried AirBnB and got a really nice place to stay up in the hills only a few miles from the venue.
The restaurant was nice - upscale, local and organic - although surprisingly less veg/gluten-free friendly than expected. It was only subtly Dead - photos on the wall, cocktails named after songs, but no kind fatty grilled cheeses or traditional deadhead fare. It was a little overpriced, clearly catering to the Rafaellians. There was even free valet parking (well, you had to tip). There was a decent jazz band playing. I'm glad to have eaten there, but if I ever go up for another show, I'll eat downtown. Sol Food just a few blocks away is really good Puerto Rican fare, which we had for breakfast the following morning.
JGB is short for Jerry Garcia Band, the name that Hammond organ player Melvin Seals adopted 20 years ago after Jerry passed. There were a lot of objections to the name. Now I had a deep love for Jerry's band. It was tighter than the Dead, more intimate, much more soulful. And Melvin, plus Jerry's two back-up singers, were the only players of color associated with Jerry when I followed him. It's been nearly 20 years since I've heard Melvin - he was at one of the post-Jerry shows with some others at the Greek a few years after Jerry passed. Now JGB is just Melvin with new bass, lead guitar, drums and two back-up singers. I'm not sure what happened to the rest of Jerry's band. I know John Kahn (bass) died and was even offered one of his leather jackets as some weird souvenir from a deadhead friend who thought I might want it (I passed - as much as I loved Kahn, I would never wear it and he wasn't a significant enough celebrity for that jacket to have any resale value). The new band was ok. Melvin didn't have a traditional Hammond, which is extremely heavy to transport; instead it was keyboard by Hammond that didn't have quite the same warmth. The lead did a serviceable Jerry impression and they did some original tunes in the Dead style. They had some fine moments, but underwhelming for the most part. The most stellar moment was during what began as a very sluggish Get Out of My Life Woman, which was traditionally a hard rocking song for Jerry. I was disappointed until Melvin took it and ran. Then, for a short flashback, I was back, back at a Jerry show. Melvin still gotz it.
It was quite the flashback, making S and I giggle at every turn. There were deadheads outside with their fingers up, hoping for a miracle. There were some deadhead friends that I ran into just by chance. There was that reek, that blend of pot, patchouli and dreadlock mildew, that distinctive aroma of dirty deadheads. There was a lot of chatter about GD50.
At the break, we went back to the restaurant and stayed for a Dead-cover funk band with Phil's son on bass. They were actually better, more lively, than JGB. I caught Cat Zingano with her head down in a post-fight interview over the bar, and even though I couldn't hear it, I knew she lost. We left before it ended.
The next morning, we visited one of my Kung Fu brothers to meet his 7-week-old son. Then we made it back down the coast for a stunningly spectacular ride where the Farrallones were in clear view, and the mustard and sour grass were blanketing the hills with brilliant yellow. As we rode through S.F., we found ourselves following a camper from Massachusetts that had a Jerry doll in the window of the rear door.
When we got home, there were two large blood stains in the bathroom. Our bathroom is in the center of our bungalow. Our feral cat knew what happened, but she wouldn't tell us.
It was a grand birthday.
I had lovely breakfast at my local diner Seabreeze where they put a candle in a blueberry in my fruit cup. Then there was a complete rainbow over Seabright. Then when we got home, there was a dead bird right smack in front of the bungalow front door, a gift from one of the local cats. They all came by later to see if I liked it. I spent the morning on facebook which was really amusing as the ticketmaster scramble for GD50 was in full swing, and my 2K+ friends were all wishing me HBD (got like 200+, some of which were rather funny). Then we made it for Terrapin. We tried AirBnB and got a really nice place to stay up in the hills only a few miles from the venue.
The restaurant was nice - upscale, local and organic - although surprisingly less veg/gluten-free friendly than expected. It was only subtly Dead - photos on the wall, cocktails named after songs, but no kind fatty grilled cheeses or traditional deadhead fare. It was a little overpriced, clearly catering to the Rafaellians. There was even free valet parking (well, you had to tip). There was a decent jazz band playing. I'm glad to have eaten there, but if I ever go up for another show, I'll eat downtown. Sol Food just a few blocks away is really good Puerto Rican fare, which we had for breakfast the following morning.
JGB is short for Jerry Garcia Band, the name that Hammond organ player Melvin Seals adopted 20 years ago after Jerry passed. There were a lot of objections to the name. Now I had a deep love for Jerry's band. It was tighter than the Dead, more intimate, much more soulful. And Melvin, plus Jerry's two back-up singers, were the only players of color associated with Jerry when I followed him. It's been nearly 20 years since I've heard Melvin - he was at one of the post-Jerry shows with some others at the Greek a few years after Jerry passed. Now JGB is just Melvin with new bass, lead guitar, drums and two back-up singers. I'm not sure what happened to the rest of Jerry's band. I know John Kahn (bass) died and was even offered one of his leather jackets as some weird souvenir from a deadhead friend who thought I might want it (I passed - as much as I loved Kahn, I would never wear it and he wasn't a significant enough celebrity for that jacket to have any resale value). The new band was ok. Melvin didn't have a traditional Hammond, which is extremely heavy to transport; instead it was keyboard by Hammond that didn't have quite the same warmth. The lead did a serviceable Jerry impression and they did some original tunes in the Dead style. They had some fine moments, but underwhelming for the most part. The most stellar moment was during what began as a very sluggish Get Out of My Life Woman, which was traditionally a hard rocking song for Jerry. I was disappointed until Melvin took it and ran. Then, for a short flashback, I was back, back at a Jerry show. Melvin still gotz it.
It was quite the flashback, making S and I giggle at every turn. There were deadheads outside with their fingers up, hoping for a miracle. There were some deadhead friends that I ran into just by chance. There was that reek, that blend of pot, patchouli and dreadlock mildew, that distinctive aroma of dirty deadheads. There was a lot of chatter about GD50.
At the break, we went back to the restaurant and stayed for a Dead-cover funk band with Phil's son on bass. They were actually better, more lively, than JGB. I caught Cat Zingano with her head down in a post-fight interview over the bar, and even though I couldn't hear it, I knew she lost. We left before it ended.
The next morning, we visited one of my Kung Fu brothers to meet his 7-week-old son. Then we made it back down the coast for a stunningly spectacular ride where the Farrallones were in clear view, and the mustard and sour grass were blanketing the hills with brilliant yellow. As we rode through S.F., we found ourselves following a camper from Massachusetts that had a Jerry doll in the window of the rear door.
When we got home, there were two large blood stains in the bathroom. Our bathroom is in the center of our bungalow. Our feral cat knew what happened, but she wouldn't tell us.
It was a grand birthday.
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