| AsianDivaGirlsWebDude |
07-09-2005 12:43 AM |
Quote:
Originally Posted by 3piece chicken Dinner
It is refreshing talking good music and good guitar. Kudos VD :thumbsup
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Agreed. :thumbsup
It's been awhile since I've played some UFO (on vinyl no less).
Just one thing...whatever his appearance, Jerry Garcia was no slouch on guitar, or banjo (or even his first instrument, piano) for that matter. What some of you may not know, is that Jerry was missing a finger on his picking hand (and he often finger picked, especially when he played bluegrass, which he loved).
Look closely at his pictures - he has no middle finger; he lost it an accident as a teen (his brother chopped it off while they were splitting some wood). This didn't stop him from becoming a rock legend as well as a well-respected jazz guitarist during his day.
Anyway, honestly, Jerry on his good nights cooked with the best of guitarists. Try and play his stuff. It's not easy. Few could improvise like him.
Aside from being a great guitarist, Jerry was also an accomplished fine artist. I have a few of his lithos, and even some ties that he designed.
Now, I'm even going to have a little Ben and Jerry's "Cherry Garcia" in his honor.
Quote:
An Elegy for Jerry By Robert Hunter
(Delivered August 13, 1995, The Jerry Garcia Memorial, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California.)
Jerry, my friend,
you've done it again,
even in your silence
the familiar pressure
comes to bear, demanding
I pull words from the air
with only this morning
and part of the afternoon
to compose an ode worthy
of one so particular
about every turn of phrase,
demanding it hit home
in a thousand ways
before making it his own,
and this I can't do alone.
Now that the singer is gone,
where shall I go for the song?
Without your melody and taste
to lend an attitude of grace
a lyric is an orphan thing,
a hive with neither honey's taste
nor power to truly sting.
What choice have I but to dare and
call your muse who thought to rest
out of the thin blue air,
that out of the field of shared time,
a line or two might chance to shine --
As ever when we called,
in hope if not in words,
the muse descends.
How should she desert us now?
Scars of battle n her brow,
bedraggled feathers on her wings
and yet she sings, she sings!
May she bear thee to thy rest,
the ancient bower of flowers
beyond the solitude of days,
the tyranny of hours --
the wreath of shining laurel lie
upon your shaggy head,
bestowing power to play the lyre
to legions of the dead.
If some part of that music
is heard in deepest dream,
or on some breeze of Summer
a snatch of golden theme,
we'll know you live inside us
with love that never parts
our good old Jack O' Diamonds
become the King of Hearts.
I feel your silent laughter
at sentiments so bold
that dare to step across the line
to tell what must be told,
so I'll just say I love you
which I never said before
and let it go at that old friend,
the rest you may ignore.
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RIP Jerry,
ADG Webmaster |
