Hey Now! The Rolling Rider here for the first in a long series of reports on the Deadhead scene. Philzone.com has asked that I keep an eye on the story behind the story, if you know what I mean. There's alot going on in deadland these days, and as we all know, there's barely time to wait, so set your bookmarks, buy that extra-comfy wrist rest, sip a mug and let's get down to it.

Sunday, Sept. 12, 1999 finds yours truly waiting anxiously for the next chapter of the Phil Lesh saga, as many say that he will indeed be sitting in with Trey and Page again when Phish comes to Shoreline for a two-day run during their fall tour. Beyond that, mailorders are out there in the mystical processing land of San Rafael, waiting to be chosen by merits of (?) It's always the best kind of urgent chore that you have to do, when that gunshot summons of mailorder commencement fires. But still, the waiting... 

But back to Shoreline, I know that each Phish show that I have been to in the last 5 years has seen greater numbers of deadheads checking out the phishes for the 1st time. This year will be no different, but if the rumors hold true, a comforting visit by Papa Lesh might be all some need to finally "take the plunge" so to speak into Phish-Acceptance. Maybe even Phish-Astonishment, if the Ph-actors are particularly right. Can you say 45 minute Wolfman's Brother? The missing Ghost>Waste>Taste>2001 from the much hyped Club Front rehersal in April? Ah, the possibilities. 

It's a wonderful set of relationships that has been forged this year, beginning with those now-mythical April shows. New family members and old family members were brought back in touch with what it was all about to begin with, these effervescent, looping, gyrating, pulsating, strawberry bananteloupe jam bands. The Rolling Rider was not the only one feeling a lack of "community" between all of these hippies and crunchies and datheads and netheads and dreadheads and tapers and families and ravers and all the other charachters that the Grateful Dead managed to attract. Phish has been admirably putting on festivals that push creativity, interaction and community, but for those that couldn't always make it to their remote locations for a three-day festival, there was no other "big thing" to attend.

Thankfully, Phil and his evolving, revolving friends have put a twinkle back in the eye of many, who had to relearn how to put on their psychedelic scuba gear and dive back into the Great Other. As I write, the 17 minute mark of the Viola Lee Blues from 4/15/99 approaches. The waterfall of notes bubbling, tumbling in some babbling brook of sound, Kimock becomes Trey become Phil becomes Kimock again, Molo crashing on the waves of a crescendo, Phil, somehow Phil is there, somehow orchestrating this, composing this, he knew these notes would happen, he had known all along, the realization, the inception, it is all thought is it all...

"...I wrote a Letter, mailed it in the, mailed it in the air indeed-y, wrote a letter, mailed it in the Air. You may know by that I've Got A Phriend somewhere..."
   

Mickey Hart has been playing some inspired shows with his latest Planet Drum incarnation, And Ratdog is keeping up the bluesy-jazz traditions of the Dead, while hitting the road soon with a whole list of new songs. Vince Welnick is long overdue back in the fold, possibly if The Other Ones re-assemble without the project-laden Bruce Hornsby. That would mean the Beatles songs return! Get an MP3 of his recent versions of "Watching the Wheels", "A Day In The Life" or "Helter Skelter". As the Y2K approaches we have a responsibility to go further still. Deeper Yet. Higher Than. As I make my first assesment on the scene in 1999, I can report that the Dead-Scene is alive and well. Jerry Garcia may be Gone, but Long Live the Grateful Dead!

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