JRAD: A Band Beyond Description

2019/9/26 Joe Russo’s Almost Dead @ The Met Philly

A Band Beyond Description.

The very essence of livemusic is, for me, the transfer of energy between the band and the crowd. It’s a two-way deal, give and take, the perfect symbiosis. In this regard, last night’s JRAD show in the beautiful Met Philly was perfection. What started as your normal holyshit JRAD show ended with a unique show of love from the band to its fans the likes of which I’ve never seen before and felt really special to be a part of, even if only as an observer. Who am I kidding, I participated fully, with every ounce of my soul and my being, taking the greatest of joy in just being on the bus. Even though I am more of a lurker in the JRAD is RAD community, I have some close friends there, too, and I enjoy reading their posts, just as I do yours. I love the true spirit of the community. I identify with everyone’s love for this band, and the one who inspired them, and, mostly, their love for each other. So when some special shit went down last night, I felt it profoundly. I knew the back stories and the players, though admittedly not as well as I might like to, but well enough for my heart to really feel all of the love. 

This isn’t a setlist kind of review though some songs deserve attention…Till the Morning Comes > Brother Esau > Here Comes Sunshine was spectacular, the TtMC, especially! Atlantic City to open the second frame was just beautiful. I love Lost Sailor and Saint of Circumstance has been rocking my world since  9/9/93 at the Richfield Coliseum in Cleveland, OH, a story for another day. The Tennessee Jed was otherworldly and Last Time was a rollicking dance party dropping so beautifully into Help on the Way! as if that were the most normal transition of all time. Speaking of, isn’t that (one of) the beauties of this band, how they move as one collective into unforeseen and unimaginable transitions and segues, sometimes long and winding with teases galore and other times, BAM!, dropping into Help on the Way! on a dime. Hot. Damn. 

So as a lurker in the beautiful JRAD is RAD, I am acutely aware that Stevie Weavie has been counting days since the last Help > Slip > Franklin’s, 1,384 of them to be precise. He was wearing a shirt, as he often does, saying, Help, I’ve Slipped and I can’t get a Franklin’s. He posts his stat counter almost daily. And the band knows it. If I didn’t know that yesterday, I know it now. They read these posts. They know their fans. And they threw him a party like it was New Year’s to commemorate 1,384 days since The Last Time they Slipped into Franklin’s, shooting massive dry ice guns into the air with confetti falling from the sky as we rolled away the dew. Stevie circled the floor, hugging people and accepting love and congratulations. At the show’s end, cuz you better believe this was the set closer, the band gave him a fucking 3-foot trophy, you know, like the one Daniel-son won in the Karate Kid after beating Johnny in the All Valley Championship, yeah, one of those, inscribed: “To Stephen Pancoast, Commemorating 1,364 days since the last JRAD Help>Slipknot>Franklin’s. With Love, Joe Russo’s Almost Dead.” 

What the actual fuck? You can’t tell me this band doesn’t get it, that they don’t understand that a happy accident at the Brooklyn Bowl for Freaks Ball XIII turned into something way bigger than they could ever dream or comprehend. The way they love and honor and invigorate the music of the Grateful Dead is one thing, but their relationship with their fans, the love and adoration, is what sets them apart. That Franklin’s Tower was, for me, the song of the year. Period. End of story. You see, I don’t review shows, I talk about my experience. That one won’t be bested.

As if the aforementioned shower of love wasn’t enough, there was a young boy on the front, center rail last night, 7 years old, Rocket Hammond. I met him and his dad for the first time last night and was able to pass along the second of two buttons Josh Einsbruch gave me (couldn’t have found a better home!). Russo was interacting with and talking to Rocket all night, both with and without his mic and, even more so, with his eyes and his smile. At one point he said Rocket was “dictating the show with his smile,” or something to that effect. It was beautiful to watch from a few feet back – my heart actually melted. 

So after the trophy presentation to Stevie and the Baby Blue encore and the Stevie Wonder dance party (well done, pC!), there was still so much more to come. After Joe and Tommy posed with Stevie and the trophy, enter Rocket on stage left, now seated at Sir Joe Russo’s drum kit, banging away with the sticks he carried all night. And the kid can drum – did I mention he’s 7?!?! So Joe watched and his parents stood on stage and recorded and smiled and gushed with pride and love and joy, and then Joe grabbed his sticks and they played an NFA of sorts, tandem on the kit with Joe standing and the kid at his throne. And then they took a bow and Joe gave rocket his sticks to throw to the crowd like the rock star that he was. Oh man. 

You make some and you miss some. I made this one. And it’s never lost on me how lucky I am to make as many as I do. I’ll never forget this one. And just for good measure, I bought the signed foil poster on my way out to frame and hang and remember this night in perpetuity – the band, the RadFam, the Freaks, and Garcia and Hunter and Casal and everyone in between that brighten my Circles Around the Sun. I love you all!

18,073 glorious steps.