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Inside Musical Subculture

Musical cults, from Phish Phans to Deadheads to Juggalos to Wagner.  We’ll look at who gets the caravan of followers.

Fans enjoy the Phish concert. (AP)

Fans enjoy the first concert by Phish in five years at the Hampton Coliseum, March 6, 2009. (AP)

There are fans in music, and then there are superfans, and then – for some musicians, some groups – there are whole superfan sub-cultures. Passionate caravans going where they go, doing what they do, living the dream.

Deadheads for the Grateful Dead. Phish Phans for Phish. Jimmy Buffet’s parrot heads. Juggalos for the Insane Clown Posse.

This hour On Point: music’s superfan sub-cultures, from Paganini and Liszt to Phish, with Alex Ross, Bikini Kill’s riot grrrl Kathleen Hannah, and much more. Rock on.

- Tom Ashbrook

Guests

Nathan Rabin, author of “You Don’t Know Me But You Don’t Like Me: Phish, Insane Clown Posse, and My Misadventures with Two of Music’s Most Maligned Tribes” (2013), former head writer for ‘The A. V. Club,’ ‘The Onion’s’ entertainment guide, and staff writer for the new film website, ‘The Dissolve‘, from ‘Pitchfork’. (@nathanrabin)

Kathleen Hanna, an American musician, activist and writer. She was the lead singer of the punk rock band, Bikini Kill and former front woman for the band, Le Tigre. Her new band, The Julie Ruin‘s album, “Run Fast” is due out in September. (@kathleenhanna)

Alex Ross, music critic for The New Yorker since 1996, author of “Listen to This” (2010) and “The Rest is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century” (2007). (@alexrossmusic)

From Tom’s Reading List

Rolling Stone: Insane Clown Posse’s Juggalos and Phish Fans Explored in New Book – “Rabin went full-on gonzo while reporting the book, ingesting all sorts of mind-altering drugs, traveling the country by Greyhound bus, scalping tickets and interacting with the hardest of hardcore fans. He also blew through much of his savings, nearly broke up with his girlfriend and found out he is bipolar”

New Yorker: Hanna And Her Sisters – “Even though the riot-grrrl community has come to dwarf the songs in historical memory—that was the point, really—the music is still a pungent tonic.”

New Yorker: Deadhead – “Eaton cleaned the tapes with cotton balls and alcohol, and Latvala loaded one up onto his reel-to-reel. The exposed outer layer—the first thirty seconds or so—was ruined, but as the music kicked in they realized they might have a treasure on their hands.”

Book Excerpt

From You Don’t Know Me but You Don’t Like Me: Phish, Insane Clown Posse, and My Misadventures With Two of Music’s Most Maligned Tribes by Nathan Rabin.

What Madness Have I Gotten Myself Into?

It begins, as these things generally do, with a girl. When I was twenty-five years old in 2001 I traveled to Marietta, Georgia, to visit my younger sister, Shari, and became instantly enraptured with a radiant seventeen-year-old friend of hers I will call Cadence Caraway. Though we spent only an hour together having brunch, the memory of Cadence haunted me until eight years later when she contacted me on the message boards for the A.V. Club, the entertainment monolith where I have toiled as head writer since the beginning of time. We fell in love via e-mails and phone conversations before beginning a long-distance romance that found us shuttling back and forth between Providence, Rhode Island, where Cadence was getting her master’s in teaching from Brown, and my hometown of Chicago.
In Providence one of our most beloved and oft-repeated rituals entailed compulsively watching the music video for “Miracles,” from controversial Detroit horrorcore duo Insane Clown Posse. We were mesmerized by the surreal incongruity between the gothic artifice of Insane Clown Posse’s wicked-clown persona and the video’s glorious lack of self-consciousness. The self-styled World’s Most Hated Group had been on the periphery of my consciousness since I started writing about pop culture for the A.V. Club. The band was an easy punch line for cynics, as well as the inspiration for the most mocked and reviled subculture in existence: Juggalos, the strange, often Midwestern creatures who wore clown makeup, greeted each other with hearty cries of “Whoop whoop,” “Family,” and “Magic magic ninja what!” and sprayed themselves with off-brand Faygo sodas during concerts rich in theatricality and homemade spectacle. They unite every year for an infamous multiday bacchanal known as the Gathering of the Juggalos.
Deans of pop culture had treated the duo with equal parts fascination and repulsion, but after “Miracles” my mild curiosity about Insane Clown Posse and the wild, weird, disreputable world they rule as clown-painted demon deities evolved into something more serious. Yet even as someone fortunate enough to be able to write about his obsessions for a living, I had only a fuzzy conception of what a massive role Insane Clown Posse (aka ICP) and especially their passionate, intense, and unique fans would play in the next few years of my life.
Cadence shared my intense obsession with “Miracles” even if the duo’s self-deprecating, tongue-in-cheek take on horrorcore couldn’t have been further from her usual tastes. In one of her first e-mails to me, Cadence inquired, “Do you like the band Phish?” I freaked out a little bit. Asking someone if they like Phish is a loaded question. It’s not like asking, “Do you like Squeeze?” Nobody is liable to care if you enjoy the music of
the veteran British pop band behind “Tempted” and “Pulling Mussels from a Shell,” but if someone says they’re really into Phish, we’re often tempted to make sweeping generalizations about their personality, intelligence, personal hygiene, sobriety, class, education, and taste.
There’s a great T-shirt from my employers at the Onion that reads, stereotypes are a real time-saver. That’s certainly true when it comes to Phish and Insane Clown Posse. Buy into the stereotype of Juggalos as uneducated, violent, racist, and ignorant, or Phish fans as unemployed, weed-smoking, unjustifiably privileged space cadets, and you don’t have to waste time listening to their music or actually interacting with any of their fans.
Part of the revulsion people feel toward Phish and Insane Clown Posse is physical in nature. Being a hardcore Insane Clown Posse fan is an intensely visceral experience involving sticky clown makeup, soda-soaked clothing, homemade tattoos, and, in the case of the Gathering of the Juggalos, thousands of Juggalos gathering in a remote, drug-sex-and-alcohol-choked rural environment for days on end with extraordinarily limited access to showers, toiletries, and other niceties. On a primal level, a lot of people find Juggalos just plain gross.
Phish fans aren’t held in the same contempt, in part because their fan base tends to be better educated and wealthier than the overwhelmingly working-class Juggalos, but as the biggest and best-known jam band in existence, Phish is one of the primary targets of our culture’s long-standing antihippie bias. By the time I went to college in Madison, Wisconsin, in 1994, Phish was the hippie band, just as the Grateful Dead was the hippie band for generations before it. Like the Grateful Dead, Phish tends to be judged by the culture and attitudes of its fans as much as the content of its music. As a college kid, I came to see Phish as the band whose music you were casually forced to listen to in exchange for a free bowl of pot. I don’t remember the music nearly as much as I remember those experiences. I think that’s true for a lot of people’s perception of Phish: The music floats away into a noodly, interchangeable blur of guitar solos and free-form sonic experimentation, but the stoned grins, tie-dyed shirts, and mellow vibes of fans linger on. In part because its oeuvre was critically unfashionable and terminally unhip, I let Phish’s music wash over me without really thinking about it or really, truly listening to it.
As I grew older I internalized our culture’s revisionist take on hippies as drug-addicted, myopic brats luxuriating in eternal adolescence. I inherited the widespread sense that hippies were getting away with something, that they were lazily opting out of civilization to get high in a field while the grueling machinery of late-period capitalism continued without them.
The hippie ethos and Phish’s mythology are inextricably intertwined: Phish isn’t a band; it’s a way of life. It’s a name that conjures up images of lost children with scruffy beards and tie-dyed shorts and sad, emaciated pit bulls on rope chains accompanied by dreadlocked white women habitually clad in flowing dresses.
“Do you like the band Phish?” implicitly means, “How do you feel about jam bands? How do you feel about people who follow Phish? How do you feel about marijuana and Ecstasy and nitrous and acid and mushrooms? How do you feel about traveling from town to town and devoting your life to the music of a group of middle-aged men? How do you feel about the Grateful Dead? How do you feel about the sixties? How do you feel about sex and freedom and the liberating powers of rock ’n’ roll? How do you feel about the open road? How do you feel about earnestness and sincerity and sneering, protective irony?”
Did I like the band Phish? I had no idea. I’d lazily bought into the overriding cultural assessment of the band and its fans, but now I had a whole new frame of reference: my beloved Cadence.
Phish had made my Cadence happy. I wanted to be part of anything that gave her joy. I fell in love with her in a way that paradoxically made me feel powerful and powerless, bulletproof and vulnerable. I felt like I could accomplish anything with her by my side but the prospect of losing her terrified me. I didn’t just want to be her present and future: I wanted to retroactively become her past as well. I wanted to somehow Photoshop myself into her memories. I wanted to travel back
in time and twirl ecstatically at half-forgotten festivals. I fell in love with the woman Cadence had become but I was also in love with the beautiful child she had been. Maybe that’s what my sudden urge to see as many Phish shows as possible was ultimately about: rewriting Cadence’s history with me as the romantic lead.
How could I hold on to my knee-jerk anti-Phish prejudice when the band meant so much to the greatest source of happiness in my life? As a freakishly smart, preternaturally verbal, obscenely well-read teenager in the sprawling suburban wasteland of Marietta, Georgia (Newt Gingrich’s district), Cadence followed Phish to escape a dispiriting universe of jocks and skinny blonde girls, a soul-crushingly homogenous realm where everyone became a real estate salesman or stockbroker, got married in their early twenties, voted Republican, and traded lawn-maintenance tips at the country club after work. To Cadence, Phish fandom was a way of both asserting her individuality and joining a tribe.
Though we grew up nearly a decade apart and several universes away from each other, we both sought out books and music and movies and ideas as a way of escaping a world where we didn’t belong. For me, that meant throwing myself into art that expressed the bottomless rage I felt. I lost myself in the anarchic anger of Johnny Rotten or the righteous rebellion of the Coup. For Cadence, it meant traveling in the opposite direction, seeking out music and a scene that stumbled toward grace, toward transcendence, toward the eternal ideal of one nation under a groove.
We are born with open minds. We want to explore, to learn, to grow, to see and experience everything. But as we get older our minds begin to close. We become stuck in our ways. Preferences become prejudices. Yes, yes, yes is replaced by Bartleby’s “I’d prefer not to.” New movements and stars and genres strike us as strange, incomprehensible, objectionable, and ridiculous. Our lust for knowledge and adventure is replaced by a desire for those damned kids to get off our lawn and turn down that crazy jungle music while they’re at it. We fetishize the music and movies and movements of our youth. We retreat into the comforting cocoon of the familiar.
After a lifetime of feeling different, I started to wonder if we’re all secretly the same. I began to suspect that what divides us isn’t as important as what unites us. We all hurt and ache and bleed and struggle and love. We just listen to different music and align ourselves with different subcultures while we do so.
Like Phish, Insane Clown Posse has developed a vast, intensely loyal grassroots following despite being alternately ignored and mocked by the mainstream. In the case of Insane Clown Posse at least, it could be argued that the group has an intensely loyal grassroots following because it has been alternately ignored and mocked by the mainstream, not despite it. As Insane Clown Posse’s Violent J likes to say, the colder it is outside the circle, the warmer it is inside. The sense of persecution many Juggalos feel from the outside world serves to bind them closer together.
The parallels between the seemingly antithetical groups are legion. They each have elaborate homemade mythologies. Phish has its “Gamehenge” song cycle, a dense, C. S. Lewis/J. R. R. Tolkien–style saga of good and evil rooted in The Man Who Stepped into Yesterday, a concept album frontman Trey Anastasio wrote as his senior study while enrolled in Goddard College in the mid-1980s.
The Man Who Stepped into Yesterday chronicles the fantastical adventures of an aging military man named Colonel Forbin who finds a door into the mythical realm of Gamehenge, a world populated by the Lizards, a peaceful people who led an idyllic existence dictated by the precepts of a manual called the Helping Friendly Book before an evil outsider named Wilson took advantage of their trusting nature to enslave them using knowledge gleaned from the book, which he had hidden away to keep the Lizards from harnessing its incredible power. Colonel Forbin tries to retrieve the Helping Friendly Book to aid the Lizards in their rebellion against the nefarious Wilson, only to have it fall into the hands of a character named Errand Wolfe, who uses it to overthrow Wilson and install himself as ruler instead of returning the book to the Lizards. In The Man Who Stepped into Yesterday, as in life, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Phish has never released The Man Who Stepped into Yesterday as a studio album but its songs, characters, and conflicts live on in the band’s regular live performances of songs from the opus.
Insane Clown Posse has an even more convoluted and central mythology involving the afterlife collectively known as the Dark Carnival, rooted in a series of “Joker’s Cards” that correspond to different ICP albums.
Insane Clown Posse and Phish have both worked to cultivate a sense of community with their followers that obliterates the distinction between artist and fan.
But more than elaborate mythologies, Phish and Insane Clown Posse offer fans the sense of community, identity, and belonging that comes with joining a tight-knit if widely disparaged tribe with its own set of rituals, traditions, and homemade folklore. When I examine my soul, I have to admit that this sense of community and belonging probably attracted me to Phish and Insane Clown Posse as much as the fascinating place they hold in pop culture.
To research the curious ways of modern musical tribes, I decided to augment my travels to Hallowicked and the Gathering of the Juggalos by following Phish with Cadence throughout the summer of 2010. When that proved an epic boondoggle, I found myself heading out on the road to follow Phish in the summer of 2011 in a radically different, perilous new context: I was now broke, desperate, half mad, terrified that my world was about to be rent asunder at any moment, and, most dramatically of all, without Cadence.
You Don’t Know Me but You Don’t Like Me is the rambling tale of a man who followed Phish and Insane Clown Posse for two years and lost his way, whose mind and mission got hopelessly scrambled somewhere along the glorious, hazardous road, and who just barely managed to crawl his way back home. It is a much different book from the tidy, anthropological tome I set out to write, but it’s also the only book I could have written honestly and with a clear conscience. I set out to write a book about musical fandom from the outside in. Instead I ended up writing a book about fandom from the inside out.
What could have motivated me to devote my summers to a band and subculture that had been so utterly foreign to me? Love plays a central role, but I also wanted to capture a snapshot of a funky subsection of the pop-culture universe. I wanted to do it before age and responsibility made traveling across the country to follow a rock ’n’ roll band impossible, before I really had to grow up. I didn’t realize when I began that I had already passed that point in my life and that every time I headed out on the road, I did so at my own peril.
I wanted to understand what attracts people like my beloved Cadence to the traveling carnival of a Phish tour. What compelled others to paint their faces like clowns and get tattoos of Hatchetman, the mascot for ICP’s Psychopathic label? I wanted to delve beyond the caricature of jam-band fans and horrorcore scrubs. I decided to throw myself on the front lines of first-­person journalistic experimentation, like Barbara Ehrenreich in Nickel and Dimed or David Foster Wallace munching on a corn dog at the state fair or A. J. Jacobs dressing up like Moses or that book where George Plimpton went undercover with the Symbionese Liberation Army and ended up offing all those pigs.
My curious years following two of the strangest and strongest musical subcultures represented my first and last fling. Throughout my twenties I avoided many of the responsibilities of adulthood out of a delusional conviction that I’d wake up one day and be transformed into a young Jack Kerouac. I’d become a drifter, a gypsy, an upscale hobo, the Wandering Jew, a merry prankster, a good old American guest. A man like that cannot and should not be tied down by a mortgage, marriage, and fatherhood. As Billy Joe Shaver reminds us, doers and thinkers say moving is the closest thing to being free. As an American, I have an inalienable right to pretend that I’m perpetually on the verge of throwing it all away and heading out onto the open road. I cherish that illusion. Or at least I did until it smashed up hard against a brick wall of reality.

Musical Fandom Playlist

Advisory: The following songs contain explicit content.

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  • 1Brett1

    Eh, usually, these types of devoted fans have an almost messianic zeal toward the artists they revere. There can never be any dispassionate critique of the artist, particularly if some performance/recording doesn’t quite measure up (you’ll be called names of you criticize). By the same token, devoted fans can become quite rigid in their expectations of the artist, limiting the artist from exploring new ideas. This can be especially true of Metal fans and Punk fans, i.e., “so and so’s new CD isn’t Metal enough”; “such and such Punk band sold out and lost its Punk roots,” etc., are common claims of betrayal fans will hurl at their favorite artists whom they feel have forsaken their fan base. 

    I remember Dylan being cast out from the Folk scene, then forsaken for his Christian period, then condemned for his concerts that didn’t include all of his hits, then revered no matter what kind of tripe he put out, etc. 

    Then, there’s the weekend groupie syndrome…

    • adks12020

      The funny part is even one fan can go through several stages of fandom that you describe. I’ve been a Phish fan for almost 20 years.  At some points I thought they could do no wrong; at some points I was super critical and/or analytical about what they did or did not play; at some points (now) I just want to have a good time and leave all critical thought an analysis out of the picture.

    • jefe68

      That happened to Bob Dylan in the 60′s when he toured with Al Cooper and Mike Bloomfield. He was booed at at the 64 Newport Folk festival. That band was great and when you listen to it now the music still holds up.

  • disqus_fw2Bu1dEsd

    Please, Mahler, Mahler and more MAHLER!

    • Acnestes

      Take it up with him.  He hasn’t come out with any new material in decades.

  • HonestDebate1

    I’m just glad they are out there.

  • MadMarkTheCodeWarrior

    “Fandom” tends to blind its victims to the fact that not everything produced by their idols is a work of musical genius. Sometimes it’s just competent mediocrity or even rubbish.

    Idolizing rubbish or mediocrity doesn’t spur their idols to create or innovate; it too often fosters more of the same.

    There is so much overproduced derivative milk-toast on the air today that when I hear a piece of great new music, it is a major rush. I am grateful to have lived through the halcyon days of the 60′s and 70′s when new music was exploding on the airwaves every day of the week like fireworks on the 4th of July.

  • wauch

    Phish IS NOT The Grateful Dead folks!! If anyone listened to their music for 2 minutes they would realize this fact. They are one of the greatest quartets of all time. The creativity, uniqueness, and resistance to categorization is commendable. My list of best shows includes
    Rochester Fall 12/11/1997
    Big Cypress NYE 2000
    MSG 12/30/1997
    Glens Falls 1994 Halloween The Beatles White Album
    Rosemont Horizon 1995 Halloween The Who’s Quadrophenia
    The Entire Fall East Coast 1997 Run from Hartford till the Tweezer Reprise at MSG 12/31/1997
    Their disaster hiatus shows in Coventry were forgettable but necessary.
    No one covers ZZ Top’s “La Grange” or Edgar Winter’s “Frankenstein” better
    For the best in Phish research go to
    http://phish.net/setlists/

    • adks12020

      I’m a pretty huge fan of both bands and I agree they aren’t the same. The main reasons people compare the two bands are: the fact that both bands spent much of their career touring rather than making records; both improvise a lot and play sequences of songs connected by jams (although in completely different ways); both acquired a large following that travels(ed) with the band; oh, and drugs.

      Musically they are very, very different but the way that an entire culture sprouted up around both bands is very similar. There are a lot of “jam bands” (hate that term btw) out there but only two have acquired such huge, devoted followings so its inevitable they will be compared whether it’s a valid comparison or not.

      • John Cedar

        They had a largely overlapping fan base of damn dirty hippies, as pointed out in the reading list.

        • adks12020

          Actually if you actually went to a Phish or Grateful Dead show you would know that the fan bases of each band is quite varied. The Grateful Dead brought bikers, bankers, politicians, hippies, lawyers, all kinds. Phish brings all kinds as well. People always associate the bands with hippies but the reality is quite different.

    • Mclearson

      You’re absolutely right! Whereas the Dead are a treasure of Americana, Phish are technically talented but uninspired hacks. Music is my life, and I’m open to give anything a try, but Phish is just not good. I know so many musically knowledgeable people who feel the same way, and I’ve met so many Phish fans who do not listen to any other band and can only proclaim the deity of Tre. There’s a huge difference between Dead Heads and the trustafarians that follow Phish. Go ahead, bring the hate. 

      • Bob Rosenbaum

        I think any musically knowledgable person is able to appreciate Phish’s musicality without being a fan of their music. To say their music is not good, does not really mean anything. It is like saying apples are no good. Disagreements about matters of taste cannot be objectively resolved.

        • John Cedar

          Whenever a group of my friends or family get together, it is inevitable, that at least one night of the weekend, we will send-out-for apples.

  • GarretWoodward

    I grew up right outside of Burlington, Vermont. As a teenager, getting hold of your first PHISH album was a rite-of-passage. That was 15 years ago, and I still am just as excited about the band today as I was those many years ago. The culture and people of the band has become my family, and always been there for me, as many of us in the scene will attest to. See y’all at their Atlanta show next week!!

    • jefe68

      Funny, my daughter grew up in the same area and hates Phish. 

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100004976022001 Paul Mushrush

    On Tuesday, July 16 a great, local band, (to me,) called JCDC, from
    Fitchburg, MA is playing at a Furthur concert at Meadowbrook arena in
    Gilmore, NH. Many of us “Deadheads” will be there, shakin’ our bones to
    Furthur and our friends’ band. It will be my 6th Furthur show, after 50 +
    Grateful Dead concerts, “back in the day.” (It’ll be my 20th JCDC
    show!)

    https://www.facebook.com/events/132174033656965/136775543196814/?notif_t=plan_mall_activity

    • http://profile.yahoo.com/JXSANCUDPIKQSPID5KT2U4XK5Y TF

      Does that include the “Bob Weir, Rob Wasserman and Jay Lane are Scaring the Children” tour?

      (I put that in here because that’s just the funniest tour title ever.)

  • http://profile.yahoo.com/JXSANCUDPIKQSPID5KT2U4XK5Y TF

    At what point are some things too popular to be called a cult? (I want a Venn diagram here.)

    For example, I have some Parrothead acquaintances, yet I only know about three songs that play on the radio and form the basis of Jimmy Buffet’s residuals.

  • Joe_Birdbath

    Tom is a secret Juglolo! Who knew, all this time, he was “Down with The Clown”?!

  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Jeremy-Kirk/656721647 Jeremy Kirk

    Jeremy from Brattleboro, VT
    There needs to be a distinction between the followers of most jam bands and the overtly socially engaged character of Riot Grrl fans and bands.  A second distinction can be drawn between the mega-concert characteristic of many jam band and ICP cultures and the underground local and organic characteristics of Riot Grrl.

  • Really???

    Listening to your show I googled “Insane Clown Posse”. The first thing that struck me is that they look like two white performers in blackface, making fun of a black music genre.

    • adks12020

      I’m not an ICP fan but I do have friends that are and you are totally off in your analysis. They created their own version of hip hop. I don’t think they are in any way making fun of hip hop. They’ve had prominent hip hop artists play with them and they have opened for big hip hop acts.

      • Really???

        Thanks for the insight, ad.

  • Coastghost

    “Cults of celebrity” (not just in music but other aesthetic domains), they can be called. Cf. Eliade’s “Survivals and Camouflages of Myths” (final chapter of his monograph MYTH AND REALITY), which nailed the phenomena fifty years ago, even before its contemporary avatars incarnated. History of religions speaks volumes about contemporary “culture”. (People may not like Voegelin’s analysis, either, but it seems to hold resonance: “post-modernity” exhibits much of the fragmentation common to ancient Gnosticism).

  • http://www.facebook.com/eandrus Erica Hurwitz Andrus

    Please mention Robin Sylvan’s excellent book on this topic, Traces of the Spirit — it looks at connections between these types of music communities and African traditional music and spirituality. There are specific chapters on Hip Hop, The Dead, Metal, and Rave culture. I highly recommend it!

  • kevnorth

    It may be a relatively small following compared to other groups, but I love the crowds that follow the Flamings Lips. They put so much love and care into their live shows that it is hard not to feel like the band really cares about its fan, and the fans reflect that back. I once saw a show where they played until lightning struck less than a 1/4 mile from the stage and the actually apologized for ending the show early. With that kind of dedication, it is hard not to love them and want to follow and support them. 

    • John Cedar

      You muddy the waters when you bring up a band that actually had a hit song.

  • John Cedar

    No hate from me on these bands just no appreciation for them whatsoever, save for one tidbit.

    Trey is a good enough guitar player that he could have joined a band. He almost plays with one guitar, what the fab four did with two, in “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”. Proof that all he needed was a song writer of some modest talent…and to ditch the dead weight.

    I am the worst critc because my rejection threashold is when an “artist” produces somthing or plays something that is catchy enough or difficult enough I could not see myself or any other random musician doing it. At least the dead had Friend of The Devil.

  • Steve Harris

    Hey Tom,

    Great interview.  But what was that clip if Franklin’s Tower from 1981?  I don’t find it in any of the ’81 shows.

    • Paul Scofield

      I think that the Franklin’s Tower that Tom played is from “Dead Set,” a live Grateful Dead release from live material recorded in October 1980 in both SF and NYC.

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