This album came at a time in my life when I had a lot to write about. I had just lost my mother last June and still felt the talons of grief piercing my back. Before she passed, she and I had planned on trying to use some of her poetry to make songs from, but that just hasn’t panned out yet. A lot of her poetry is very stream-of-conscious, and I just couldn’t figure out how to put it to a tune. Maybe someday I will. Another dream we had was having her make art for the next record cover. She was an amazing artist and was constantly working on many different things. She would call me all the time and tell me about how she was painting this or gluing this thing to that to make some UFO alien battle with cowboys and fairies. All her pieces had a story. The piece we ended up using for the cover was the one she was working on the night she died. I believe her intention was to show it to me when it was finished to see if I would use it for the cover. Although I don’t believe she had the chance to complete it, I am so happy we were able to fulfill that dream. I never got to say goodbye to her. That’s why I wanted to call the album “So Much For Goodbyes.” When I mentioned it to my manager, his interpretation of it was different from mine. I was sad that I didn’t get to say goodbye, but when I told him the name of the album, he heard it from a different perspective. It’s not goodbye. She’s not gone. She’s very much still with me. So much for goodbyes.
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We are giving away our prototype zero-torque putter.
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John Mayer speaking some words of wisdom and his expectations about the future.
Mayer shouldn't be underestimated and note that he's one of the greatest musicians ever.
You can't just tell him a good guitar player, he's much much more than that.
Oh what a day to be livin! @goosetheband is heading to Frost on Saturday, Aug. 15. Sign up now for first access to tickets starting Wed, January 28th 👉 https://t.co/L83VWhBiBU
Okay Bob. I’ll do it your way.
Fkn’ A…
Thanks for letting me ride alongside you. It sure was a pleasure.
If you say it’s not the end, then I’ll believe you.
I’ll meet you in the music.
Come find me anytime.
JohnBo
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.
Nobody knew it at the time, but Weir was diagnosed with cancer weeks before the Grateful Dead's 60th anniversary shows in Golden Gate Park.
Watch him perform "Touch of Grey" at his last live performance: https://t.co/nuNERwPtkT
I’m going to start a Bob Weir tribute thread obviously. I’ll post here continuously over the next hours (days?). I loved Bobby Weir about as much as I loved any musician. I’m shook. Let’s start with The Other One, Bob’s early contribution to Primal Dead. https://t.co/W8ZnG8umtI