Elvis Costello with Furthur

I've been on a serious Elvis Costello kick for several months now, and I am even using four of his albums as material for a course this term. And I have been avidly following Furthur, the band started in the fall of 2009 by Bob Weir and Phil Lesh, to the point where I have listened to every show they have played (from the Live Music Archive and the digital downloads of their shows that they are selling).

So of course I was thrilled to hear that Elvis had sat in with Furthur on Sunday night at Radio City Music Hall. His wife Diana Krall even sang "Ripple," and that's Larry Campbell on violin in the photo (whose wife Teresa Williams also sat in).

On Furthur

On Facebook, a friend asked what her Deadhead friends thought about John Kadlecik from the Dark Star Orchestra playing lead guitar with Phil Lesh and Bob Weir in their new band Furthur. Here's what I wrote in response to her question:

I've listened to all the Furthur shows on the archive, and at times Kadlecik does an excellent Jerry (one particular example is "Sugaree," where he's got the phrasing and fluidity of Jerry's signature runs for that song down). But he's at his best when he does something completely different than what Jerry usually did (there are several brilliant ... See Moreversions of "Candyman") or when he plays something Jerry rarely or never played ("Unbroken Chain" or Ratdog tunes or the Ryan Adams tunes).

But for me, the highlights of Furthur shows are, over and over again, Jeff Chimenti's piano solos (especially on "Unbroken" and "Eyes of the World").

Phil Lesh on the Grateful Dead

"All we did was steal what jazz musicians did and apply it to rock 'n' roll. If we didn't do it, someone else would have," he says.

That's Phil Lesh from this interview about the Dead's forthcoming tour. His comment reminded me of the reaction of Deadheads when Branford Marsalis first sat in with them on March 29, 1990.

The Deadheads were blown away by Branford's brilliance, and by the fact that he seemed to play along so well, even though he openly stated that he had never heard the Dead's music before.

And all I could say was, "Duh!" Of course Branford fit in with the Dead; any jazz musician would have, because the Dead applied jazz methods to rock and roll, which is admittedly harmonically and rhythmically simpler than jazz, and thus a piece of cake for jazzers!

Shake the Hand

My friend Lee Altenberg wrote me an email a few weeks ago with this anecdote. — Warning: Deadhead stuff! :-)

I shook Phil Lesh's hand by the baggage claim in SFO tonight. Both his right and left hands.

When I saw him standing there, I wasn't sure it was him. I haven't seen photos of him since the Grateful Dead, so I am comparing my memories of 13 years ago with this fellow. I looked at how he was dressed — finely tailored leather jacket. Don't rock stars wear leather? My posterior probability was raised.

He was right by the baggage claim chute. I got up the nerve to ask, "Are you stationed right there to grab your bass as soon as it comes down? I ask because you look like a famous bass player, I know."

He said, "I wouldn't check my bass."

Ahah! It was him. "So, you're Phil?"

"Yes."

"May I shake your hand?"

He shook my hand. I had shaken the hand of Bobby Weir years ago when he walked up the car ramp at the Pauley Pavilion. My brother had a method of sneaking back stage where you hide under the bleachers after the show until everyone is gone, and then you just walk out confidently and go back stage — if you are there at that time then you are supposed to be there. We had successfully done this but didn't last long back stage before we were ejected, and ended up by the exit that Bob Weir and his woman would take a bit later. Weir's arms were full, so he gave me his left hand which I shook. Flashing back to the present moment with Phil Lesh, I asked, "Can I shake your left hand? I shook Bobby's left hand years ago."

And he gave me his left hand.

I said, "I love your bass playing, man," and departed. I soon realized that I wish I had really told him of the extent of my appreciation: "I want to thank you for giving me the greatest musical experiences of my life, which I treasure along with Beethoven." Alas, the moment had passed...