ZONE OUT with the ROLLING RIDER
< < ~ ~ - - > > x )( < < ~ ~ - - < < ~ ~ - - > > )( x x ((< < - - ~ ~ - - > >)) x

OTHER ONES - Fall Tour - West Coast Wrap Up
12-05-02 Henry Kaiser, Oakland, CA
____________________

"What we do is as American as lynch mobs", Garcia said in 1989.
"America has always been a complex place". How right he was, I thought, as I
sauntered through Shakedown street, revelling in a veritable Renaissance of
my senses. The sight of a pizza-filled oven resting curiously in a patch of
grass, visited intermittantly by hustling hippies. Drumbeats, their cadence
at once a smooth cacophony, a melliflous pounding. And, the mingling of
evocative odors, deep and smoky, with my own self literally bobbing through
the denizens of deadland like a vehicle in humanity's car wash. How right it
all felt in that moment. Jer's namesake Jerome Kern so aptly put it:
"Nothing is wrong when put to music".

But as Kerouac said, "I had nothing to offer anybody but my own
confusion". The surge of energy I felt entering Henry J. Kaiser arena did
little or nothing to prepare me for the glorious celebration that was AIKO
AIKO, an opener beyond belief which provided the proverbial Welcome Home to
the music, the band, and the tribe. The room shook, and you had no choice
but to dance.

Bobby grabbed the reins on MUSIC NEVER STOPPED like a faithful steed.
Here we are, 37 years later, and the crisp, thoughtful groove still awakens
like the morning sun right before our eyes. Sans a chance to catch our
breath, we melt into a triumphant version of THE ELEVEN, and call me crazy,
but I swear on a stack of Deadbases that I heard the voice of one Jerome
John Garcia singing his familiar harmony.

The JAM which ensued set up a beautiful EYES OF THE WORLD, and although
I'd grown to love Phil on this number, Barraco's intrepid voice carried the
bird away, and into a MUSIC NEVER REPRISE. Never Stop, Bobby implored, Never
Stop... At the rate we're going, I don't think Mr. Weir has anything to
worry about.

Again I marveled as ol' Ace blasted into SCARLET BEGONIAS, exclaiming,
'I had one of those flashes I'd been there before...', and for the first
time I thought, 'This is 21st Century GD', the screens digitally dripping
with cerebral, newfangled pyschedelia. Admittedly more powerful in gesture
than it was musically, the transition into FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN sputtered a
bit, but the flame, of course, did not peter out altogether. And, that
familiar transcendental journey did not seem too far off.

Bobby regrouped for a spirited MIDNIGHT HOUR, which capped off a first
set that felt very much like a second set, and was by all accounts very much
amazing. Phil's bass was absolutely relentless, peppering every jam, and his
usual miraculous self, Bobby seemed to gain strength as the show progressed.
Setbreak.

Robert Hunter took the stage, and immediately felt MISSION IN THE RAIN.
In one of the most poignant expressions I've witnessed, the sage declared,
"Ten years ago I walked this street, my dreams were ridin' tall...". The San
Francisco bay crowd was mesmerized, some punctuating their proud cheers with
raised hands, others moved to tears. "There's some satisfaction in the San
Francisco rain", Hunter reminded us. Amen.

While tuning up for the next number, he asked, 'How about that
Jimmy?!', to the delightful roar of the crowd. He obviously agreed, as we
all did, of what a bang-up job Mr. Herring was doing filling shoes that
would make Wilt Chamberlain's look like baby-booties.

The poetic blues of LAZY RIVER ROAD was offered up, and we sang along:
"Call for me, and I will be there, for the price of a taxi ride". Suffice to
say, we're all thrilled to pieces that Mr. Hunter has answered our
beckonings, and graced us with us his beloved presence. The words to Astral
Plane, Tinsel Tilde's tribute to Jerry Garcia, are also reminiscint of
Hunter in my opinion -- 'just my luck I was born a teacher, I tried hard, to
be no preacher'.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the words to WIND BLOWS HIGH
are carved in my heart in cuneiform. "Whistle up the wind that calls your
name...howling like a prayer with no Amen"... A pindrop would've sounded
like a trainwreck during this reverent interlude in the Kaiser. Fans
respectfully lent their ears to this unfamiliar tune, and Hunter punctuated
the lyric with wailing cries: "We're not lost, just waiting to be found!".

EASY WIND>MR.CHARLIE is a favorite pull of Hunter, and at once visions
of Pigpen were conjured up, down in the Bayou with Robert Johnson and
Howlin' Wolf. I may have been dreaming, but I'm sure Hunter sailed into
STANDING ON THE MOON, proclaiming, "I'd rather be with you...somewhere in
San Francisco", while gazing at the crescent through the roof of the Kaiser.

He said goodbye with RIPPLE, and we quickly forgot about less and less,
and remembered the love with bring. "I don't know", Robert explained.
"...don't really care", if this songs are better off unsung.
"Let there be songs to fill the air", flowed like a majestic incantation for
the second set, and our second go-round.

Set two's opener, STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER, may have been the musical
highlight thus far. Barracco was born to sing these zen lyrics, and the
Other Ones were made to play it. "Nothing is real...and nothing to hung
about", soothed our souls. Yes, it's getting hard to be someone, but it all
works out. This lovely thread magically weaved into CRYPTICAL ENVELOPMENT,
and Phil had his first chance to really shine.

"The summer sun looked down on him/His mother could, but frown on him".
Phil's masterful voice evoked the sacred quality of this tune, while bracing
us for the bass bombs of the Other One. By the way, Henry Kaiser plays this
melody on his CD, 'Those Who Know History are Doomed to Repeat It', and what
an apropos sentiment that is.

ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER followed, and although it was played adeptly,
it had marked the 42,308th concert I had attended where some performer
played that song. Therefore, it seemed high time to go cash in one of little
blue drink tickets for a bottled water, and gather myself after that
Cryptical. Every time Phil sings "You know he had to die", it clutches my
heart like a little boy does his favorite rock.

As rainbow colors blended in my mind, so too did the Rhythm Devils. A
show isn't a show without em', and Let's Face It, fans, Mickey Hart and
Billy Kreutzmann play the drums like no other, becoming the anthem of the
universe whenever they share. Encompassing the eclectic tempo of the world,
along with being the backbone of our musical dragon, their hands were
thunder and rain, and their drums the clouds.

HELP ON THE WAY>SLIPKNOT provided Phil with the opportunity to really
let loose, and his voice bellowed as his bassed ripped through the
stratosphere and bounced around the stars like a pinball. And at the payoff
moment, we were fooled, ala Boston Garden 91, but this time it wasn't a
surprise Fire, but a resounding OTHER ONE.

Bobby and Phil were locked in, bleeding together like colors,
ecstaticly feeding off each other, as Weir reported, "The heat came round
and busted me, for smiling on a cloudy day!". This work in progress that we
call the Other Ones began to look like a landscape of Cezanne.

FRANKLIN'S TOWER finally materialized, and the faithful took one last
opportunity to shake their bones. We reached, along with the band, for that
switch to send the Vista Cruiser into HyperDrive one more time. And although
the jets were purring along, I was feeling like it may be New Years or 2003
before we are sent hurdling further than we've gone before.

But Phil's DONOR RAP was beautiful, and he dedicated the encore to his
friend Nancy, a version of BOX OF RAIN which blew me away, and left me like
a leaf fluttering on the ground. The band seemed to mesh, and play as one
instrument, so lovely it melted your very heart. "Feel your way like the day
before" were the guiding words, and I, for one, stood amazed. I felt lucky,
so dearly lucky, to watch this profound melody open like a flower to the
sunlight.

So again, I have nothing to offer but my own confusion. How can so
much love be captured in our community, our band, our songs? Maybe the
answer will be found in Oakland Coliseum, behind it's diamond walls...

Searching for the sound,
the Rolling Rider

< < ~ ~ - - > > x )( < < ~ ~ - - < < ~ ~ - - > > )( x x ((< < - - ~ ~ - - > >)) x

read Other Ones - Fall Tour Rider

~ > > ~ ~ - - < < ~ ~ - - > > )) (( < < - - ~ ~ - - > > )) (( < < - - ~ ~> > - -
x )( < < ~ ~ - - < < ~ ~ - - > > )( x