No. Unlike the Didacts latest bit, this is not a well written piece on the need for tradition, etc.
Incidentally, despite the name, it also does not indulge in any form of metal, death, or otherwise.
Instead, the title is a clue to the name of the band sufficient to run a train through driven by a coked up engineer, and if you still haven’t figured out I’m talking about the Grateful Dead, your loss.
Look, I get it. They’re not to everyone’s taste. Hell, I’m not a deadhead by any stretch, never saw them in concert, certainly never followed them around, and while I certainly skimmed off my da’s liquor collection I actually could tell my Navy recruiter with a straight face that I never smoked pot.
But they have some awesome music, and one of the first CDs I ever bought was because one of the wannabe hippie crowd in college I knew recommended the album to me as one of their better studio works. Since I had liked a lot of his record collection, including Dead bootlegs, excepting the Billy Bragg, I listened to it, and bought it the next time I went to the record store.
I did mention I had odd tastes, right? Rush, Moody Blues, Yngwie Malmsteen, Satriani, Iron Maiden, The Cure, New Order, Merle Haggard, etc….
So, my favorite song off of that album, “Terrapin Station”
