Jeckles and The Ratdog, Part One
I first saw Ratdog in 1996.
It wasn’t because I was a fan, hell I had no idea who they were.
My buddy told me that we just had to go to Further Festival and who was I to argue. I was 24 years old and an all day hippie festival at the Virginia Beach Amphitheatre in June sounded ideal to me. To be real honest, I wasn’t that interested in the music. The only names in the line up I recognized were Bruce Hornsby and Los Lobos. I only new Los Lobos for their cover of La Bamba and Bruce Hornsby was a little bit ‘Adult Contemporary’ for my taste. I’d never heard of the Headliners, billed as the Ratdog Revue. I was going for the party. A bunch of hippies, outcasts and potheads converging to take the concert experience “Further” in the tradition of Ken Kesey. You know, the guy with Electric Kool Aid Acid Tests.
A few days before the concert, some one tipped me off that Ratdog was the name of the band fronted by Bob Wier and Rob Wasserman. Now Bob Wier I had heard of, the great rhythm guitar player of the Grateful Dead.
Six years earlier, I was in college. My roommate freshman year, Matt, was a true Deadhead. He had concert tapes for dozens of shows. I was familiar with the Dead, of course, Truckin’, Casey Jones, and Sugar Magnolias. But Matt’s tapes contained another dimension of the band that I had never heard before. Extended improv jams in songs like Fire on the Mountain and Eyes of the World. Matt would tell me all kinds of things about the band, perhaps he was trying to convert me. And I heard a lot of Grateful Dead music that year.
I had several opportunities to go see the Dead in the early 90’s, but I never did. I guess I kind of assumed that I would catch them on the next go around of the tour that seemed to never end. But when Jerry Garcia died in 1995, the Grateful Dead dissolved and I would never be able to see them live. I still regret that.
But in 1996,I was going to have the chance to see Bob Wier. I was excited, if I would never see the Dead, this would be the next best thing.
The festival was great. I had a wonderful time. And considering the amount of drugs and alcohol flowing, the people were incredibly laid back. No pushing and shoving, no rudeness, everyone seemed to be happy to be there and happy to be with each other. The music was pretty good too, especially Ratdog.
We had no idea what to expect from them, would it just be the Dead minus Jerry, or would they avoid grateful Dead songs altogether?
They opened with three good old Mississippi Delta Blues songs; Good Morning Little Schoolgirl, Howling and Wang Dang Doodle. Then they played the Dylan classic, Maggie’s Farm. As the music played my mind wandered back to my freshman dorm of all of those songs on Matt’s tapes the one I liked the best was Looks Like Rain. I loved the way Bobby and Donna sang and forth to each other at the end of the song. After Maggie’s Farm, Bruce Hornsby came back on stage and sat at the piano. I can’t express in writing the surge of joy I felt when I heard the opening chords to Looks Like Rain. I got up and danced. And for the rest of the night and continued to just feel the music and dance with it.
The band continued into a smoking version of rhythm and blues classic, Juke. Next a Bob Wier tune, The Winners and then into a nice Easy to Slip/ Supplication jam. A bass solo, featuring the Star Spangled Banner, set up Turn on Your Lovelight to round out the set. For an encore Bob and Rob came back out with Hornsby and Mickey Hart (and probably some others, but I’m not sure) and played Wilson Pickett’s In the Midnight Hour, Dylan’s immortal All Along the Watchtower and Buddy Holly’s Not Fade Away.
A few weeks later, I went to a Smashing Pumpkins concert. The crowd was rude and there was plenty pushing and shoving. Billy Corgan stopped playing in the middle of one of their most popular songs and threw a temp tantrum cause some one from the audience had manged to throw a glow stick up on the stage. The whole thing just left a bad taste in my mouth. I swore off concerts, figuring that perhaps I had simply got too old for them.
I didn’t even consider seeing a concert for over ten years.



I spend a lot of time thinking about Christmas, this time of year. Not so much the what am I going to get nor what I plan to give. I think more about how does Christmas fit into my life and that of my family.
I’m an atheist. By that I mean I don’t believe in god. I do NOT mean that I am sick of religion, that I am immoral, that I hate Christians, that I am trying to make some sort of statement, that deep down inside I really do believe. I have people try to assign those things to me, but they do not apply. I just don’t believe. Sorry. I’ve thought a lot about it during the course of my life. I’ve read huge chunks of the Bible as well as parts of the Koran, some Hindu and Buddhist works, the Book of Mormon and even several issues of the Watchtower. I’ve read and I’ve examined my thoughts and beliefs. But at the end of the day, I just don’t believe.
So we had Christmas. At least most of it. Christmas Tree, presents in the morning, lights on the house. No church. No Jesus. I do mention to my kids that a lot of people are celebrating the birth of Christ. They should be aware of that. But you’ll find no Nativity Scenes at the Jeckles household.
At first, I felt guilty for celebrating. Like I was an impostor or something. But as I look around, it occurs to me that there are really two holidays that happen at the same time. The Christian Christmas with it’s Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. Shepherds, wisemen and angels. But there is another Christmas. The secular Christmas. A holiday of Santa Claus and Rudolph. Of Lights and food. Of gift giving.
There is light everywhere. Christmas Trees. Lamp post with lighted wreaths. And miles and miles of lights strung out through the neighborhoods.
You have heard by now, no doubt, that Roger ‘Syd’ Barrett has died. To the left is a picture of the man who died a few days ago.
The Fuss? It’s about the young man with the piercing stare, Syd Barrett. An Art Major. He was going to be a painter. Until his pal Roger Waters convinced him to join his Rock and Roll band, The Tea Set. Syd thrived, he recruited his friend Rick Wright to play keyboards and they became The Pink Floyd Sound.
But the pressure got to Syd. By the Time their first album was released he was frustrated with the demands of being a star. Promoters expect The Pink Floyd (as they were known by this time) to play their songs more or less how they sounded on the records. Syd loved to tweak or even completely re-write his songs. The Pink Floyd got their Big Break in 68 or 69 when they were to open for Jimi Hendrix and The Monkees on a US tour. Yes dear readers, Jimi Hendrix once opened for the Monkees.
Things weren’t going well for Syd. His fragile state of mind was breaking down. The drugs did not help. He fell in with usual users and sycophants that will surround those who find fame too fast. It is rumored that in the house were he lived, that his so called friends reveled in keeping him tripping. All of the food and drink was spiked with LSD. Syd kept ingesting it with out even realizing it. He may have been tripping for many days straight. Finally be broke down. Since he was ruining the party they just locked him in a closet.
They returned to the studio to follow up on the success of Dark Side, with an album that was a tribute to Syd, Wish You Were Here. Syd who had been in reclusion for 3 years or so, showed up at Abby Road and listened in to recording of Shine on You Crazy Diamond. At first, no one recognized him. He gained weight and he shaved his head and eyebrows. When Roger realized who it was, he was reduced to tears.













