Grateful Dead founding member, guitarist, writer, and vocalist Bob Weir has passed away. Was lucky enough to see Bob around 10 times over the years, including the first show my wife and I attended together (before we started dating).
Oddly enough we’re in the same arena tonight, hearing the news of his passing, that he performed in a decade ago with Dead and Company when we saw him. Thanks for the memories!
We are deeply saddened by the loss of legendary musician, Bob Weir, founding member of the Grateful Dead. He shared his music with fans on our stages, creating unforgettable moments and lasting memories for generations. Thank you for the history and memories you made with us at the Beacon ❤️
In Memoriam (1/3): Founding member @BobWeir joined the @GratefulDead as a teenager and remained with the band for its entire thirty-year career. As a singer, songwriter, and guitarist, Weir took influences from disparate sources – jazz, classical, and gospel music – and...
People die every day, but they won’t mint more Bob Weirs. He was the last of the best, the headlight on the northbound train, the rebellious teen who became the rambling man who became the keeper of the Grateful Dead flame. Weir helped birth the new world, watched its ruination, and spent the autumn of his life rebuilding it. Six full decades ensuring that the music never stopped. He withstood time with grit, soul, and a Boddhisattva’s Zen. And now, he's gone.
Bob, eternally sacred in the no-bullshit Stetson, straight out of a black and white Western, a dead-ringer for the last honorable sheriff in a depraved and sinister county – the last rampart protecting our society from pagan free fall. A cowboy prophet descending from Mt. Tamalpais declaiming outlaw epics about bloody shootouts in El Paso corrals, estimated prophets on burning shores, and lightning trains.
Projecting the Sinai authority of the Old Testament God, he helped birth a mythic scripture replete with winners and losers, wronged heroes and sinister villains, those haunted by death, but who remain determined to cheat the grave.
Goodbye Ace, may there be infinite Saturday nights in whatever dimension you've ascended to, one more big old party where rock and roll music meets the rising planet sun.