Jerry Garcia would have turned 63 on Monday.

That may come as a surprise to people who saw photos of him taken toward the end of his life, when various circumstances piled loads of phantom years onto his appearance.

I once overheard some high school kids (who must be in their mid-30s by now) laughing about a video called "Touch of Grey" with "some 80-year-old guy singing." At the time, Jerry would have been only in his mid-40s, and really didn't look anywhere near an octogenerian. Nevertheless, he'd have had trouble passing for 45 by that point.

The sketch I drew is based on the cover of an album released in 1980, when, of course, Jerry still would've been on the good side of 40 and still had a good bit of his jet-black hair. (And when I was one of those high school kids.)

Man, that was a long time ago ...

Thirteen years ago this summer, the Grateful Dead played right here in Washington County, on the scenic shores of Star Lake in Hanover Township.

It turned out to be the last time I saw Jerry & the boys, mainly because I had to work when they played their last-ever Pittsburgh show in late June 1995, just a little over a month before Mr. Garcia's demise.

Anyway, the Star Lake show I attended was on a Tuesday. The Dead also played there the night before and performed some of my favorites, including "Ramble On Rose," "The Other One" and the primo "Scarlet Begonias/Fire On the Mountain" medley. When I found out I had missed those tunes, I went into Tuesday with a bad attitude, knowing full well they wouldn't repeat those the next evening.

Sure enough, I was disappointed with the song selection at the time, although listening to recordings of the show nowadays, I'm not certain why. I guess I wanted to hear old favorites rather than new songs like "So Many Roads," "Way to Go Home" and especially Bob Weir's "Corinna," a funky number that has yet to appear on a legitimate release (unless it's on a "Dick's Picks" archival set - I'll have to look that up).

Anyway, when the band came out of its mid-second set drums/space jam to strike up the chords to the Rolling Stones' "The Last Time," I remember taking that as an omen that I'd never see the Grateful Dead again. Sure 'nuff ...

PIX:

1) Actually, I don't own this or any other tie-dyed shirts anymore.

2) My buddy Doc Ellis (real MD) checks out some wares sold by one of the merchants in the Star Lake lot.

3) Here's some of the stuff you could buy in the summer of '92.

Since I'm in the photo-posting mood, here are some more shots from Friday night:





1) Cousin Dave Gasbarro and Terry Callahan of Fungus

2) CK9 and the Old E. Allstars before sundown

3) Shane McGraw (moe. shirt) of host band Doodis amongst the crowd

If you want to check back at flidop.com, Reice, the guy who runs the site, was there all weekend and should have some more LumberJam stuff coming.

Here are some more:











1) Cory Grabowski and Alex Mullett of Doesn't Exist

2) Colin McBride and Adelle Hollot of That Far Gone

3) The Ballihoo

4) Outcried Dilemma at Peterswood Park's Shelter 4

5) Jared Gerba of Chaind Stasis at Shelter 4

BTW, I've edited a two-disc set of the performances of the first eight bands at the Peterswood Park amphitheater, from the stellar recordings made by Ivan Kilowatt of Ivansound. If you're interested in a copy, send me an e-mail (see right) and we'll work something out.

I took a bunch of photos at the Rock Off during Peters Township Community Day, and I'm itching to share 'em. So here ya go:












1) Shaun Chapman and Adelle Hollot of the Comb-Toothed Blenny Experience

2) A Day Late: Drayton Frey, Clint Grill and Sam Rodgers-Melnick

3) Catalyst: Colin McBride, Colin Klutch, Ashley Phillips and Nate Hanson

4) Sam Rodgers-Melnick of Meguilla Gorilla

5) Joel McCloskey of SuperCede (someone else took this photo; I'd credit the photographer if I knew who!)

Well, at least a couple of people who showed up at last weekend's LumberJam II in Eighty Four said they heard about it through something I wrote. (Good to know someone is reading.)

I attended the Friday night portion of the three-day event and was impressed by everything about it. The outdoor venue produced an exceptional atmosphere, considering that the weather fully cooperated. The people were very friendly (even though I had a few years on most of 'em).



And the music was sensational. The opening act, CK9 and the Old E. Allstars, really blew everyone away with its funky rhythms and superb playing (definite touches of vintage Parliament/Funkadelic in there).







And for Grateful Dead fans young and old alike, Fungus brought back a taste of the good ol' days.

I'm told attendance for Saturday swelled to about 300, well more than the organizers' goal, and that everyone was well-behaved. (That's especially true compared with the goings-on across the county at Star Lake during the Ozzfest on Saturday.)

With success may come some changes, and we'll see if LumberJam is at a different venue next year. But wherever it lands, I'd certainly recommend checking it out in '06.

Thanks again to the guys from Doodis, the host band (Pete, Mitch, Shane & Jesse), for making me and everyone else feel right at home!

In 1978, I bought a ticket to a Blue Oyster Cult concert at the Farm Show Arena in Harrisburg. Unfortunately, the band discovered the arena's stage was insufficient to hold its life-sized Godzilla prop, and the show was rescheduled in York on a night I had to work. And I never did see the BOC.

Twenty-eight years later, I get a second chance when they come to the Pepsi-Cola Roadhouse in Burgettstown, in a double bill with Eddie Money on Aug. 5.

Now, I know what you're thinking about these kinds of tours. Are there even any original members in the band? Well, the Blue Oyster Cult still boasts 60 percent of the lineup that started as the Soft White Underbelly back in the '60s: singer Eric Bloom, multi-instrumentalist Allen Lanier and lead guitarist Don "Buck Dharma" Roeser. And if their DVD from two years ago, "A Long Day's Night," is any indicator, they're still putting on a tremendous show, even without the life-sized Godzilla.

Probably my favorite BOC album is one that generally is dismissed in the band's catalog: "On Your Feet or On Your Knees," from the '75 tour, just before the massive commercial breakthrough of "(Don't Fear) The Reaper." This live set smokes, from the ominous, lurching opener "Subhuman" - which features some fabulous playing by Buck - to rousing covers of the Yardbirds' "I Ain't Got You" (known here as "Maserati GT") and Steppenwolf's "Born to Be Wild." Also of particular note is the extended version of Buck's magnum opus (IMHO), "Then Came the Last Days of May," with Buck's melodic solo over a spooky organ riff perfectly complementing this chilling tale of a deal gone bad.

And if you ever get a chance, Rhino Handmade issued a limited-edition CD of an album the band made for Elektra Records in 1970, but it wasn't released for three decades. Credited to the Stalk-Forrest Group, it's called "St. Cecilia," after one of the songs. Extended workouts on the title track and a tune called "A Fact About Sneakers" highlight the psychedelic modal jamming the band apparently specialized in during its Underbelly days around New York City. Right up my alley ...

Anyway, if you missed the Blue Oyster Cult circa '78, here's your chance to make up for lost time.

I always encourage artists to perform their original material. But I'm still a sucker for a good cover version, especially if it's one you don't hear every day.

The kings of having their tunes covered are, of course, the Beatles. "Yesterday" long ago set a record for the most recorded versions of one song. I even heard it played on a series of cast-iron bells in a town square in the Czech Republic. And some of their other tunes rank right up there.

One of my favorite Lennon-McCartney compositions is one of their more obscure: "Hey Bulldog," from their "Yellow Submarine" album. It features a great piano riff and a John barking out one of his more ferocious Beatle lead vocals, presaging some of his solo work: "You can talk to me/If you're lonely you can talk to me!"

Anyway, I hadn't heard that covered until a friend sent me a disc called "D:Drive" by Rochester, N.Y., guitarist Don Mancuso. His band does a good job on it, beefing up the drums to help propel that killer riff even more than the original. True, it's not John Lennon singing, but no one can duplicate that voice.

One vocalist on the album is none other than Lou Gramm of Foreigner fame, a longtime collaborator with Don. And many of the songs on "D:Drive" hearken back to Foreigner's heyday, when the full-blown production of so-called arena rock filled the airwaves. Fans of '80s music will enjoy such rockers as "Down U Go" and such ballads as "You're Never Alone."

And when you get to the last track, take a little jaunt back to the '60s. You can't go wrong covering the Beatles.

Ozzy Osbourne's recent boxed set, "Prince of Darkness," features a retrospective of his foray into the worlds of collaborations and cover versions.

Some of them work very well. Pairing with the eminently talent members of Primus, Ozzy does a great take on a favorite of his old band, Black Sabbath's "N.I.B." And resurrecting Status Quo's uber-psychedelic "Pictures of Matchstic Men" as a creeping, menacing collaboration with Type O Negative works to great effect. (Joining forces with the likes of Kim Basinger and Miss Piggy, as you might guess, doesn't work as well.)

Among the covers on "Prince of Darkness" Ozzy does with a consistent core of backing musicians, a nice surprise is "Fire," another relic of the British (Psychedelic) Invasion from '68. Old-timers, or folks who have read Richie Unterberger's exceptional "Urban Spacemen and Wayfaring Strangers, will remember "Fire" as the one-hit-wonder offering of the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, and that Arthur would perform it while wearing a helmet of - you guessed it - fire.

Musically, the song is mostly an energized two-chord riff, ably played on the original by keyboardist Vincent Crane (1943-89), later the driving force of Atomic Rooster. The sound quality of the Crazy World's only album wasn't so hot, so it's a pleasure to hear a sonically advanced version emerge.

Also, any time someone wants to tackle King Crimson's "21st Century Schizoid Man," please go for it!

If you're looking for a good rock 'n' roll read, check out "Hickory Wind," Ben Fong-Torres' excellent biography of Gram Parsons (1946-73).

Perhaps Gram is best known for his short stint with the Byrds, his collaborations with Emmylou Harris, or the bizarre circumstances surrounding his death and the period immediately after. (His road manager stole his body and burned it in the desert, as per Gram's wishes, as the legend goes.)

The book gives a well-rounded picture of a man who sold relatively few records in his lifetime, but has exerted an influence beyond his recorded legacy. If we're to believe the contentions of Fong-Torres and others in the know, Gram pretty much invented what's known as country-rock and paved the way for the massive-selling careers of the Eagles and Emmylou, among others.

There's a great story to tell about Gram, too. He was part of a very wealthy Florida family, was able to draw off a trust fund to help further his career, and therefore didn't have the same constraints as his contemporaries. Perhaps that's why he was able to follow his muse and come up with a new kind of music.

If you want to have a listen, Rhino has issued a two-disc anthology containing his best work with the Byrds, International Submarine Band, Flying Burrito Brothers and solo/duet work with Emmylou (wow, she looks good on her home page). For just a single disc, I'd recommend the Burritos' "Gilded Palace of Sin," if you can find it. (Of course, you can't go wrong with the Byrds' "Sweetheart of the Rodeo," either.)

Same old story when it comes to vacation.

I'm down in Hilton Head Island, S.C., where I like to spend a lot of the time checking out the music scene. Plenty of VERY talented guys play guitar outside and inside the multitude of restaurants and bars around here.

I joke that all they had to do to land their gigs was to learn Jimmy Buffett's repertoire. But that's no joke. They apparently are obligated to play what the people want, and when you get tourists together around some sand and booze, all they seem to want is Jimmy B.

Last night, I was listening to a fellow (ironically, also named Jim) play a set that included some great one-man blues pickin' on his Taylor. As I applauded enthusiastically, he said he had time for one more song. And, of course, everyone except me yelled: "Margaritaville!"

So Jim played Jimmy's biggest hit for the millionth time, conveniently merging the second and third verses so he could get it over with ASAP. No one probably noticed the short version but me.

During Jim's break, I asked him about his obligation to play such material, and he just kind of smiled. That's part of being a performer, catering to the audience. But he did sneak in a few obscurities (including a cool Jesse Colin Young song), so I guess that kind of makes up for all the Jimmy Buffett.

Not to rip anyone, but these shows made for some rough days and/or nights because of various circumstances that can be classified as "bad" and/or "ugly." You've been there, I'm sure.

1. Ted Nugent et al, Pocono Raceway, Long Pond, Pa., August 1979

The "Pennsylvania Jam," sort of a 10th anniversary of Woodstock deal, had a lineup that started about 10 a.m. with the Scorpions (before anyone over here had heard of that German import) and concluding with Sweaty Teddy. In between were the Henry Paul Band, Frank Marino & Mahogany Rush, Edgar Winter and Blackfoot.

Throughout the hot summer morning into the night, each band seemed to keep turning the amplification system up louder and louder. That worked fine through Frank Marino, whose set was the definite highlight and well worth seeing. Then Edgar upped the ante, and the rest of the show felt like a jackhammer against the brain.

(BTW, check out Edgar's Web site. He's looking happy and healthy these days! Good to see.)

Now, I realize that anyone who plans to attend, say, Ozzfest is wondering what I'm complaining about. But amplifying a rock concert in the '70s was a different proposition than today, and anything turned up that loud ended up coming across as deafening aural sludge.

Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure that the trouble I have hearing today started around the time Ted Nugent was screaming into the microphone and hitting the opening chords to "Stranglehold." Which leads me to wonder: How do any of those guys hear a thing anymore?

THE GOOD

5 (and final). Aerosmith, Farm Show Arena, Harrisburg, December 1976

From among many, many options to wrap up the "good," I selected this as a representation of a legendary band at its peak, akin perhaps to seeing the Stones in '69 (instead of '78), The Who in '70 (as opposed to '82) and the Dead circa '72 (instead of the '80s through early '90s).

This was Aerosmith performing before the self-admitted years of decadent living took their toll, and before the '80s comeback with more pop-oriented music. This was Aerosmith going beyond a Stones/Yardbirds hybrid to develop its own distinctive five-man persona. The sound was good for the mid-'70s, loud but not deafness-inducing; the visuals included a giant "A" lighting up just before the encore, which seemed high-tech for the time; and the song selection drew heavily from the band's best two albums, "Toys in the Attic" and "Rocks."

I had a chance to see the two biggest heavy bands of '76 and selected this one over Kiss. No offense to Gene, Ace, Paul and Peter, but I think I made the right choice.

Make sure to take a break on the Fourth of July and read Terry Hazlett's column in the entertainment section of our print edition. It's all about how disco, the bane of late-'70s popular music, abruptly went by the wayside in the summer of '80. (Not that the rest of the Reagan decade brought much of any great music, or anything else. But still ...)

THE GOOD

3. B.B. King, Fisher Auditorium, IUP, Spring '86

A friend who attended this show said he wasn't into B.B. and was just coming along for the ride. Afterward, all he could say was, "Wow!"

They don't come anymore legendary than Riley B. King, and this concert proved why he was - and still is - the consummate showman. And not a bad guitar player, to boot. (Rolling Stone had him ranked just behind Jimi Hendrix and Duane Allman, making him the greatest living guitarist. At any rate, it's between him and Buddy Guy.)

4. Phish, Station Square, Pittsburgh, July 1993

Before Phish played nothing but sold-out arenas, they performed in Pittsburgh for maybe a thousand early enthusiasts. What made this show so cool were two occurrences that have been passed down in band lore.

As they started playing a tune called "Esther," a train passed by alongside of Mt. Washington. By coincidence, the cadence of the railcars exactly matched the rhythm of the song. Neat stuff.

The show happened to be during Fireworks Night across the river at Three Rivers Stadium, a scheduling circumstance of which the band was completely unaware. As an instrumental, "Run Like an Antelope," kicked into high gear, the fireworks started going off behind Phish. The guys looked over their shoulders, grinned, and started jamming in time to the display.

Just a fun night all around.