Been a while since TotD spun the ol’ Wheel of Recommendations, so let’s bring out the dancing girls and cue the announcer in the loud sport jacket.
Johnny, tell ’em what they won!
“Iiiiiiit’s…AN ’87! You won’t have the Cumberland Blues in this little baby from October 3rd, 1987. You and your brother Esau can take Pocky Way all the way to Terrapin Station with a sun-roof, heated seats, and California emissions!”
A sun-roof?
“Yes. The show had a sun-roof and Bobby kept sticking his head through it and yelling things at passers-by.”
No. That’s one of those sentences that makes grammatical sense, but doesn’t actually mean anything.
Along with the second Citroen pic, commentator and almost certainly not the author of The Basketball Diaries, Jim Carroll sends along this neat diptych–
That is not a diptych: it is two photographs.
–of what seems to be Bobby approving the Terrapin Station album cover art. And remember, kids: when handling original art, always be sure to have an open bottle of wine on the table.
How bad can a day turn out when you wake up with Terrapin Station bouncing around your skull? Here’s a stellar version of Garcia and Hunter’s prayer to the Morning Star from the Winterland ’77 box set to start your Spring off right:
Kick today’s ass like it owed you money and cat-called your mom, fellow Enthusiasts.
I want to write a book called Tuesdays with Mickey, in which Mickey shares life lessons about the power of drumming and then tries to choke me.
Show of theDay: 2/26/77 The Help>Slip>Franklin’s is terrifyingly good, especially the Slipknot! and, it’s the first time they’ve ever played Terrapin and they choose to open with it. You might wonder if Garcia nailed all the lyrics to Terrapin. He did, Bobby: first time. How about that?
Terrapin Station is majestic. Its lineage, probably, is the Weather Report Suite, but it also resembles in its twists and turns the early songs, with their crudely welded-together bits (Looking at you, New Potato Caboose.) Not Terrapin: each section flows logically from the previous theme, like a an elegantly proven math equation. It slaloms like whatever louche aristo is the skiing champion this year. It requires finesse and exquisite timing to pull it off; some nights they had neither. But when they did it was the emotional highlight of any show. It is a grand entry into the canon.
Terrapin Station, a bit less. This was the album wherein, no longer able to generate drug addicts in-house, were forced to draft a drug addict from another band. They also tried to trade Keith for a speed freak and an alcoholic to be named later, but the deal fell through.
Terrapin Station was produced by Lowell George from Little Feat Keith Olsen, as much as anyone can produce the Grateful Dead. He tried to erase a percussion track of Mickey’s, and if you’ve been a loyal reader of this blog, you’ll know what happened next: everybody’s favorite fun game, Mickey Physically Assaults Business Associates. None of their records were any good. Common knowledge.
So: we can either spend 400 more words mocking In the Dark, or we can check out Phil (with GREAT HAIR!) leading the way through a 1972 China>Rider in some city that had been occupied by Nazis within the decade.
Good choice:
Addendum: In the comments below, a Fellow Enthusiast points out that I originally conflated Lowell George, who was actually the producer for Shakedown Street with Keith Olsen, the true producer of Terrapin Station. This commenter is correct and wins a year’s supply of “Brent Mydland’s Silky!” The hair products for men with silky hair. Keep it Silky, boys!
Thoughts on the Dead 