Ratdog and the persistence of memory
by Jesse Fox Mayshark
Ed. Note: Having committed the unpardonable offense of forgetting to call Bob Weir, founding member of the Grateful Dead and now leader of blues-jazz-rock combo Ratdog, the writer was forced to turn elsewhere for information and insight. Fortunately, he had on hand the band's new CD Evening Moods, complete with a lyric sheet...
Metro Pulse: So, Bob, you're still on the road after all these years. Don't you ever get tired of touring?
Ratdog: "The deepest journeys pass through the wilderness, the desert where the burning question resides, to taste the magic you must first suck the emptiness from a cup that is always dry."
—from "Lucky Enough"
MP: Uh-huh, uh-huh. OK. Um, what do you think is the biggest difference between your music with Ratdog and your music with the Grateful Dead?
RD: "I know it's gonna be one hell of an evening. Just like the year before, and the year before, and the year before. Still, there's something about it..."
—"October Queen"
MP: Right, gotcha. But obviously with some real jazz players on board, like Rob Wasserman on bass and Jeff Chimenti on keyboards, you've got more suppleness in the grooves than you ever had with the Dead. How does affect your own playing and arranging?
RD: "Ever since I was a pup, deal was I'd sing before I sup. My silver spoon's this beggar's cup, and when it's empty, I fill up. All I have to do is just show up."
—"Two Djinn"
MP: Yeah, I can see how that much talent in the band lets you just relax on stage. So what about the songwriting? Most of the tracks on Evening Moods, your first full album of new material since Jerry Garcia died, are credited to the whole band. Is it a collaborative effort? Do you just jam in the studio until something sounds good?
RD: "Nothin' you can figure, babe, nothin' you can fix. Nothin' much to it, babe. Just a couple of tricks."
—"Bury Me Standing"
MP: I have to ask, when you guys first started out as the Warlocks back in 1965, if someone had told you what was going to happen—this whole subculture, all the fans, all the other bands, that you'd still be playing to packed houses in 36 years—would you have believed them?
RD: "If, what, when, and where and how, don't mean a thing to me."
—"Corinna"
MP: But still, it's got to be kind of amazing when you step back and look at it. I mean, things have changed a lot since the '60s, yet somehow you guys just keep going.
RD: "A short while back the door flung wide. We all saw good luck on the other side. The door blew shut, but here's the deal: dreams are lies, it's the dreaming that's real."
—" "Two Djinn"
MP: You're, what, about 54 now? Jerry's dead, Phil Lesh had to have a liver transplant to save his life. A lot of people from the original San Francisco scene are gone. How has that made you think about your own mortality?
RD: "After all, the point is trying. Some will win and some will lose. Better to die live than live dying."
—"Welcome to the World"
MP: The Dead were notorious for, um, creative substance use. The scene is obviously still full of drugs. What's your feeling about that now?
RD: "Gimme whiskey for whiskey, babe. Gimme blow for blow. Gimme whole lotta nothin' babe, but to go down slow."
—"Bury Me Standing"
MP: Are the people who come to Ratdog shows mostly old Deadheads, or are there some Ratdog fans who were never into the Dead at all?
RD: "Bars and alleys are runnin' wild with frat rats, and your three-piece Bible-belt conventioneers, and your drag queens and your strip bars."
—"October Queen"
MP: Mixed crowd, huh? Is it just an American phenomenon, or do you guys have a similar kind of following overseas?
RD: "Well, let's rock 'n' roll. And if that roll takes us to France, teach them Froggies how to dance."
—"Ashes and Glass"
MP: Ouch. "Them Froggies?" Well, anyway, it's been great not talking to you. One last question: how do you respond to people who say you're just exploiting your own history, rolling along on a hippie nostalgia trip?
RD: "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Maybe it's time for one last rave, keep on dancin' on our own graves."
—" "Ashes and Glass"
MP: All right. Thanks for your time.
RD: "Well, you been nice to know. Nice to know. Nice to know."
—"Even So"
April 5, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 14
© 2001 Metro Pulse
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