See Sturgill Simpson Join Dead and Company for ‘Morning Dew' at GD 60
Simpson, who — after established himself as a torchbearer of the Dead's jam aesthetic during his recent tours — served as opener for the second GD 60 show, led the group through 'Morning Dew,' and traded solos with John Mayer over the track's 12-minute runtime.
More from Rolling Stone
See Dead and Company Perform 'Box of Rain' With Phil Lesh's Son Grahame at Dead 60 Show
Dead & Company's San Francisco Livestream: How to Watch the Golden Gate Park Concerts Online
The Tao of Jerry Garcia: 31 Trippy Quotes From the Grateful Dead Co-Founder
Simpson was previously enlisted as part of the Kennedy Center Honors' tribute to the Grateful Dead earlier this year, where he performed 'Ripple.'
The 60th anniversary shows kicked off Friday with a guest appearance by Grahame Lesh, son of the late Phil Lesh, and honored his father by leading Dead and Company on 'Box of Rain,' even playing one of Phil's basses; Grahame Lesh also joined the band for 'St. Stephen' during Saturday's show.
The GD 60 celebration concludes with one last show on Sunday night.
In other Dead-related news, in what would have been Jerry Garcia's birthday on August 1, San Francisco mayor Daniel Lurie announced that a portion of Harrington Street where the guitarist's childhood home resided would be renamed Jerry Garcia Street:
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Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
Jerry Garcia: Your memories 30 years after his death
Yahoo asked readers to share where they were when they heard the legendary Grateful Dead guitarist had died on Aug. 9, 1995, and how his music makes them feel today. It was 30 years ago tomorrow that Grateful Dead co-founder, guitarist and vocalist Jerry Garcia died in his room at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility outside of San Francisco, on Aug. 9, 1995. He was 53. Fans of the pioneering psychedelic rock band known as Deadheads knew this day would come. Garcia had struggled with drug addiction and diabetes for years and was in bad shape weeks earlier during what would be his final tour. He was visibly frail, forgetting lyrics — more so than usual — and mumbling through his songs. Still, the news of his death was no less shocking. "I'm probably like a lot of people entering the first waves of numbness,' Tom Constanten, former Grateful Dead keyboardist and a close friend of Garcia's, told San Francisco's KCBS radio that night. I was also probably like a lot of people, looking to numb myself when I learned of Garcia's death. I had just graduated from high school and was at home in Connecticut, weeks away from going to college, driving around aimlessly in my used Volkswagen Jetta and listening to Dead tapes. (I had a couple hundred bootlegs of live shows, which, for serious Deadheads, was not many.) It was also a pivotal moment in Yahoo's history. One of the site's originally programmers, Srinija Srinivasan, told the New York Times that on the day Garcia died, searches for his name spiked immediately, so they put a link to it on the homepage. 'That was the birth of Yahoo News," Srinivasan said. Since Garcia's death, surviving members of the Grateful Dead, including guitarist Bob Weir and drummers Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzman, have been performing in various incarnations, including Dead & Company — with John Mayer assuming Garcia's role as lead guitarist. 'I'll never come close to playing like @jerrygarcia,' Mayer wrote on Instagram earlier this month following Dead & Company's three-day run at San Francisco's Golden Gate Park celebrating the Grateful Dead's 60th anniversary. 'But if I can somehow get you closer to him — and to the spirit he created 60 years ago — then I suppose I've done my job. Thank you for accepting me.' To mark the 30th anniversary of Garcia's death, Yahoo gathered memories of the iconic guitarist from readers like you. Here are some of your most vivid and moving responses. They have been edited for length and clarity. Where were you when you heard the news Jerry died? Mitch W., 57, Wake Forest, N.C.: I was sitting in a rocking chair in my living room down in Boca Raton, Fla. I was just numb, devastated, sad and upset. The music that never stopped had stopped. Even though we knew Jerry was in rehab, we (at least me) figured he would be out soon. Mark K., 54, Fort Myers, Fla.: I was a young reporter working on Sanibel Island. At first, I thought it was just another rumor, so I called a friend/editor (who worked at the Grateful Dead fanzine Dupree's Diamond News) to confirm. I broke down and cried at my desk. I then collected myself, asked my boss for the rest of the day off, went home and watched all the coverage on TV with my roommate, who was also a Deadhead. Tony, 52, Lyman, N.H.: I was driving toward the beach to go surfing. I heard three consecutive Grateful Dead songs on the radio — and I just knew. I had to pull over my car. Complete emotional devastation. Beverly, 51, Lewisville, Maine: I was at an ARCO ampm restocking candy when a customer came in and broke the news. He was not gentle about it, causing me to be utterly devastated. Jenny W., 56, Chicago: I was working at Kraft Foods as an intern in the tax department. I received a phone call from a friend who let me know. I was devastated. I ended up telling my supervisor that I had a death in the family and needed to go home. I gathered with my friends, and we sat around sharing memories and listening to music. I had just met Jerry in St. Louis earlier that summer. We met in the concierge lounge at the Ritz, where he was grabbing some cookies. He took a picture with me and the cookies. He was amazingly kind. Ann, 51, Ann Arbor, Mich.: It was my 22nd birthday. I walked in to work the lunch shift at a local bar. Jerry's death was announced on the TV news. I was speechless, then melancholy. I was at the last show at Soldier Field, second row center. We were so close that I didn't know Jerry was wearing shorts. It was unbelievable that he was gone. J. Morgan W., 53, Fort Lauderdale, Fla.: I was at home in Fort Lauderdale when WSHE Radio announced Jerry's passing; I thought it was a bad joke. Then after multiple announcements from various news and radio reports, realizing that this news was true, I went out to Peaches Music and purchased the last few Dead CDs to finish my collection. Dori R., 59, Boulder, Colo.: I was driving down the 101 from a TV shoot with my Discovery Channel crew in California when we heard the news on the radio. We pulled over in shock. I was never a huge Dead fan, but I had actually just spent the previous summer following them, attending 14 West Coast shows out of pure curiosity with the music and the whole scene. I became a big fan that summer and was profoundly grateful that I got to experience the band, Jerry and all, before we lost him. D.P.F., 78, Yucaipa, Calif: I had just been upgraded to a speaking role on "Caroline in the City." You must understand what an exciting and joyous moment this was for a simple background actor. I was, needless to say, ecstatic. The following morning, I drove to Hollywood to sign the contract. The joy just mounted. I got back in the car to drive home; happy as a lark. When the radio came on, the first thing I heard was that Jerry had died. So, in a matter of minutes, I went from the peaks of happiness to the depths of sorrow. Of course, having followed the Dead for quite some time, I was well aware of Jerry's, shall we say, "predilections" and any serious fan was prepared for this. And yet, I and many others were rocked to our cores. "Cheff" Z., 78, Lancaster, Pa.: I was monitoring the Associated Press wire. The bell started clanging — which was the sign of 'breaking news.' I pulled the tear sheet and read of his death as AP was breaking it. I stood in front of the machine, alone in the clattering wire-service closet, and started to cry. I had seen the Dead all three nights in Philly on that final tour. He was weary looking, without the energy with which I was familiar. The Jerry I knew was funny and engaging. On that last tour he looked like he wanted to be done. How did you discover the Grateful Dead? Tony, 52, Lyman, N.H.: They were popular with everyone's older brothers in school. Someone gave me a bootleg from 1985. Maybe Roanoke, maybe Raleigh? The 'Stagger Lee' from that show hooked me. Ann, 51, Ann Arbor, Mich.: I saw 'Touch of Grey' on MTV and got the In the Dark album as a teen. Then a good friend from college knew that I liked Phish. She played old Grateful Dead bootleg tapes for me since she thought they were better. I agreed and never went to another Phish show. Anna M., 56, Oregon City, Ore.: I grew up in a rural area and had no exposure to the Grateful Dead except for shirts I had seen. I did not really know their music. My partner bought me a ticket for my birthday in 1992 to see them at Autzen Stadium in Eugene, Ore. I remember I had on jeans and a black mock turtleneck. As I got closer to the venue, I quickly realized my outfit did not blend. The concert was already going when I arrived. The scene was unlike anything I had ever seen — so many beautiful, weird people. I bought a new batik dress, ordered my first falafel and sat down and just absorbed it all. I felt like I had finally come home. Beverly, 51, Lewisville, Maine: My mom's friend always told me I was a hippie and didn't know it. She told me to check out their music in 1993; when I did, I knew immediately I had found my tribe. I only saw them once, in Las Vegas, before he died. It was amazing. The people really were like a family. I never knew how kind people could be, but learned that summer. Bud, 70, Oxford, Conn.: I was attending UConn in the early 1970s, and they got a lot of airplay on FM radio. "Casey Jones" was big. They were going to play the Yale Bowl, so I picked up Workingman's Dead, which was their latest LP. I couldn't believe how "country" it sounded. I expected something heavier. I played it once or twice and put it away. I still have that record, and it has become one of my favorites of the last 50 years. Rick B., 62, La Crescent, Minn.: In 1978, when I was 15, I read a reference in National Lampoon that characterized the Dead as being "still numero uno with the acid heads." And since I had every intention of becoming one at the first opportunity, I decided that this was probably a band that I should be listening to. What do you think of the Grateful Dead's post-Garcia reincarnations, like Dead & Company? Mark K., 54, Fort Myers, Fla.: Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd still be seeing this music and enjoying the scene I loved so much some 20 years after his death — thanks to Dead & Company. I credit John Mayer especially for introducing this music to new generations. Now I have fun razzing all the newbies at D&C. A phrase me and my crew always repeat: We saw Jerry. Anna M., 56, Oregon City, Ore.: I love it. It brings the family together and helps introduce younger people to the music. I love seeing young people at shows that have never seen Jerry, but they know the music, and it's meaningful and important to them. That is the power of the music, the message and the love. Dori R., 59, Boulder, Colo.: I enjoy the shows but can't avoid feeling like the same magic is just not there. Brit O., 61, Eureka, Calif. Meh. Never the same without Jerry. Marianne R., 57, Myrtle Beach, S.C.: Initially, I was done. I grieved the loss for at least a year. In 1996 Further came to town, I went with long- time Deadhead friends for closure. I saw Rat Dog and Phil Lesh & Friends over the years, but once John Mayer joined, I didn't see anything Dead-related until Dead & Company at the Sphere in Las Vegas in 2024. It was like going home. It was a very emotional experience. I am so glad I went. I loved being with my "people" again. I am also so happy that new, young people are constantly discovering the music. Jay D., 70, Novato, Calif.: I just saw Dead & Company at the Sphere in Las Vegas in April. Like everybody says, it was amazing! I used to be in the camp that after Jerry died there was no more Grateful Dead, but no more. John Mayer is a great guitarist, and he is doing right by the Dead's music. John, 53, Ringwood, N.J.: I love them all for different reasons. I'm fortunate to have seen the Dead with Jerry. All the other reincarnations have just carried the music further and connected it to newer generations of fans. What did Garcia mean to you then? And what does he mean to you today? Gary B., 73, Columbia, Md.: He was a tour guide to so many different kinds of music, and today he, more than any other individual, is the uniting force behind so many different bands and artists. Mitch W., 57, Wake Forest, N.C.: Jerry Garcia was the leader of the greatest American band ever. I miss him and still miss him (even though Bobby [Weir], day by day, is resembling Jerry). Wish my kid could have seen him and the Dead. Mark K., 54, Fort Myers, Fla.: No guitarist's music ever spoke to me the way Jerry's did. As a singer, he understood and seemed to feel the lyrics (lost on many singers), and as a guitar player and bandleader, he was like the pied piper for many of us who weren't into hair bands. Marianne R., 57, Myrtle Beach, S.C.: He was like family, even though I never met him. I grew up with that band. Today, I smile any time I think of him or those days of my youth. That music and scene made me who I am. Beverly, 51, Lewisville, Maine: Jerry was the poppa bear, setting the example of kindness, honesty and vulnerability. He's still a legend in my book. Lauren T., 53, Shelby, Ala.: He was just so f***ing cool. So talented. His music meant something to me. Still does. I played the Dead in the delivery room when I gave birth to my children. Played it for them when they were babies. On the way to and from school. Now, my adult kids have all the Grateful Dead songs on their Spotify playlists. I try to explain what the shows were like to my kids but they can't possibly understand the vibe. I hate that they'll never see or hear Jerry live. Anna M., 56, Oregon City, Ore.: I have always viewed Jerry as someone who rescued me from a very limited worldview. To see all the many wonderful people that loved the Dead, to get to know them, to have my mind expanded with new ideas, new ways of looking at life — he was monumental in my development into who I was meant to be. He was the gateway for me; his lyrics and words are touchstones for my soul.
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Yahoo
Jerry Garcia: Your memories 30 years after his death
Yahoo asked readers to share where they were when they heard the legendary Grateful Dead guitarist had died on Aug. 9, 1995, and how his music makes them feel today. It was 30 years ago tomorrow that Grateful Dead co-founder, guitarist and vocalist Jerry Garcia died in his room at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility outside of San Francisco, on Aug. 9, 1995. He was 53. Fans of the pioneering psychedelic rock band known as Deadheads knew this day would come. Garcia had struggled with drug addiction and diabetes for years and was in bad shape weeks earlier during what would be his final tour. He was visibly frail, forgetting lyrics — more so than usual — and mumbling through his songs. Still, the news of his death was no less shocking. "I'm probably like a lot of people entering the first waves of numbness,' Tom Constanten, former Grateful Dead keyboardist and a close friend of Garcia's, told San Francisco's KCBS radio that night. I was also probably like a lot of people, looking to numb myself when I learned of Garcia's death. I had just graduated from high school and was at home in Connecticut, weeks away from going to college, driving around aimlessly in my used Volkswagen Jetta and listening to Dead tapes. (I had a couple hundred bootlegs of live shows, which, for serious Deadheads, was not many.) Since Garcia's death, surviving members of the Grateful Dead, including guitarist Bob Weir and drummers Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzman, have been performing in various incarnations, including Dead & Company — with John Mayer assuming Garcia's role as lead guitarist. 'I'll never come close to playing like @jerrygarcia,' Mayer wrote on Instagram earlier this month following Dead & Company's three-day run at San Francisco's Golden Gate Park celebrating the Grateful Dead's 60th anniversary. 'But if I can somehow get you closer to him — and to the spirit he created 60 years ago — then I suppose I've done my job. Thank you for accepting me.' To mark the 30th anniversary of Garcia's death, Yahoo gathered memories of the iconic guitarist from readers like you. Here are some of your most vivid and moving responses. They have been edited for length and clarity. Where were you when you heard the news Jerry died? Mitch W., 57, Wake Forest, N.C.: I was sitting in a rocking chair in my living room down in Boca Raton, Fla. I was just numb, devastated, sad and upset. The music that never stopped had stopped. Even though we knew Jerry was in rehab, we (at least me) figured he would be out soon. Mark K., 54, Fort Myers, Fla.: I was a young reporter working on Sanibel Island. At first, I thought it was just another rumor, so I called a friend/editor (who worked at the Grateful Dead fanzine Dupree's Diamond News) to confirm. I broke down and cried at my desk. I then collected myself, asked my boss for the rest of the day off, went home and watched all the coverage on TV with my roommate, who was also a Deadhead. Tony, 52, Lyman, N.H.: I was driving toward the beach to go surfing. I heard three consecutive Grateful Dead songs on the radio — and I just knew. I had to pull over my car. Complete emotional devastation. Jenny W., 56, Chicago: I was working at Kraft Foods as an intern in the tax department. I received a phone call from a friend who let me know. I was devastated. I ended up telling my supervisor that I had a death in the family and needed to go home. I gathered with my friends, and we sat around sharing memories and listening to music. I had just met Jerry in St. Louis earlier that summer. We met in the concierge lounge at the Ritz, where he was grabbing some cookies. He took a picture with me and the cookies. He was amazingly kind. Beverly, 51, Lewisville, Maine: I was at an ARCO ampm restocking candy when a customer came in and broke the news. He was not gentle about it, causing me to be utterly devastated. Ann, 51, Ann Arbor, Mich.: It was my 22nd birthday. I walked in to work the lunch shift at a local bar. Jerry's death was announced on the TV news. I was speechless, then melancholy. I was at the last show at Soldier Field, second row center. We were so close that I didn't know Jerry was wearing shorts. It was unbelievable that he was gone. J. Morgan W., 53, Fort Lauderdale, Fla.: I was at home in Fort Lauderdale when WSHE Radio announced Jerry's passing; I thought it was a bad joke. Then after multiple announcements from various news and radio reports, realizing that this news was true, I went out to Peaches Music and purchased the last few Dead CDs to finish my collection. Dori R., 59, Boulder, Colo.: I was driving down the 101 from a TV shoot with my Discovery Channel crew in California when we heard the news on the radio. We pulled over in shock. I was never a huge Dead fan, but I had actually just spent the previous summer following them, attending 14 West Coast shows out of pure curiosity with the music and the whole scene. I became a big fan that summer and was profoundly grateful that I got to experience the band, Jerry and all, before we lost him. "Cheff" Z., 78, Lancaster, Pa.: I was monitoring the Associated Press wire. The bell started clanging — which was the sign of 'breaking news.' I pulled the tear sheet and read of his death as AP was breaking it. I stood in front of the machine, alone in the clattering wire-service closet, and started to cry. I had seen the Dead all three nights in Philly on that final tour. He was weary looking, without the energy with which I was familiar. The Jerry I knew was funny and engaging. On that last tour he looked like he wanted to be done. How did you discover the Grateful Dead? Tony, 52, Lyman, N.H.: They were popular with everyone's older brothers in school. Someone gave me a bootleg from 1985. Maybe Roanoke, maybe Raleigh? The 'Stagger Lee' from that show hooked me. Ann, 51, Ann Arbor, Mich.: I saw 'Touch of Grey' on MTV and got the In the Dark album as a teen. Then a good friend from college knew that I liked Phish. She played old Grateful Dead bootleg tapes for me since she thought they were better. I agreed and never went to another Phish show. Anna M., 56, Oregon City, Ore.: I grew up in a rural area and had no exposure to the Grateful Dead except for shirts I had seen. I did not really know their music. My partner bought me a ticket for my birthday in 1992 to see them at Autzen Stadium in Eugene, Ore. I remember I had on jeans and a black mock turtleneck. As I got closer to the venue, I quickly realized my outfit did not blend. The concert was already going when I arrived. The scene was unlike anything I had ever seen — so many beautiful, weird people. I bought a new batik dress, ordered my first falafel and sat down and just absorbed it all. I felt like I had finally come home. Beverly, 51, Lewisville, Maine: My mom's friend always told me I was a hippie and didn't know it. She told me to check out their music in 1993; when I did, I knew immediately I had found my tribe. I only saw them once, in Las Vegas, before he died. It was amazing. The people really were like a family. I never knew how kind people could be, but learned that summer. Bud, 70, Oxford, Conn.: I was attending UConn in the early 1970s, and they got a lot of airplay on FM radio. "Casey Jones" was big. They were going to play the Yale Bowl, so I picked up Workingman's Dead, which was their latest LP. I couldn't believe how "country" it sounded. I expected something heavier. I played it once or twice and put it away. I still have that record, and it has become one of my favorites of the last 50 years. Rick B., 62, La Crescent, Minn.: In 1978, when I was 15, I read a reference in National Lampoon that characterized the Dead as being "still numero uno with the acid heads." And since I had every intention of becoming one at the first opportunity, I decided that this was probably a band that I should be listening to. What do you think of the Grateful Dead's post-Garcia reincarnations, like Dead & Company? Mark K., 54, Fort Myers, Fla.: Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd still be seeing this music and enjoying the scene I loved so much some 20 years after his death — thanks to Dead & Company. I credit John Mayer especially for introducing this music to new generations. Now I have fun razzing all the newbies at D&C. A phrase me and my crew always repeat: We saw Jerry. Anna M., 56, Oregon City, Ore.: I love it. It brings the family together and helps introduce younger people to the music. I love seeing young people at shows that have never seen Jerry, but they know the music, and it's meaningful and important to them. That is the power of the music, the message and the love. Dori R., 59, Boulder, Colo.: I enjoy the shows but can't avoid feeling like the same magic is just not there. Jay D., 70, Novato, Calif.: I just saw Dead & Company at the Sphere in April. Like everybody says, it was amazing! I used to be in the camp that after Jerry died there was no more Grateful Dead, but no more. John Mayer is a great guitarist, and he is doing right by the Dead's music. What did Garcia mean to you then? And what does he mean to you today? Gary B., 73, Columbia, Md.: He was a tour guide to so many different kinds of music, and today he, more than any other individual, is the uniting force behind so many different bands and artists. Mitch W., 57, Wake Forest, N.C.: Jerry Garcia was the leader of the greatest American band ever. I miss him and still miss him (even though Bobby [Weir], day by day, is resembling Jerry). Wish my kid could have seen him and the Dead. Mark K., 54, Fort Myers, Fla.: No guitarist's music ever spoke to me the way Jerry's did. As a singer, he understood and seemed to feel the lyrics (lost on many singers), and as a guitar player and bandleader, he was like the pied piper for many of us who weren't into hair bands. Beverly, 51, Lewisville, Maine: Jerry was the poppa bear, setting the example of kindness, honesty and vulnerability. He's still a legend in my book. Anna M., 56, Oregon City, Ore.: I have always viewed Jerry as someone who rescued me from a very limited worldview. To see all the many wonderful people that loved the Dead, to get to know them, to have my mind expanded with new ideas, new ways of looking at life — he was monumental in my development into who I was meant to be. He was the gateway for me; his lyrics and words are touchstones for my soul.
Los Angeles Times
2 days ago
- Los Angeles Times
King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard talk going orchestral at the Bowl, and finally saying ‘F— Spotify'
Need a model for how to thrive in the stranglehold of the modern music economy? How about a band of Australian garage-rockers who cut albums at the pace of an Atlanta rap crew, tour like peak-era Grateful Dead and who just told the biggest company in streaming to go to hell. King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard are a fascinating phenomenon in rock. Over 15 years, their LPs have flitted between genres with insouciant musicianship, pulling from punky scuzz, regal soul, krautrock, electro-funk and psychedelia. These LPs come at an insane clip — sometimes up to five in a year, 27 so far. Their freewheeling live shows made them a coveted arena act, when few new rock bands can aspire to that. Two weeks ago, they became probably the most high-profile band to take their music off Spotify in the wake of Chief Executive Daniel Ek's investments in an AI-driven weapons firm. The band self-releases on its own labels — they needed no one's permission. King Gizzard returns to the Hollywood Bowl on Sunday, this time backed by the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra for a live read of its new album 'Phantom Island,' a standout LP that adds deft orchestration to its toolkit. The band's frontman, Stu Mackenzie, spoke to The Times about giving Spotify the boot, how the L.A. Phil inspired the new record's arrangements and what they've figured out about staying afloat while artists get squeezed from all sides today. What was your initial reaction to Daniel Ek's investments in an AI arms company? A bit of shock, and then feeling that I shouldn't be shocked. We've been saying f— Spotify for years. In our circle of musician friends, that's what people say all the time, for all of these other reasons which are well documented. We saw a couple of other bands who we admire, and thought 'I don't really want our music to be here, at least right now.' I don't really consider myself an activist, and I don't feel comfortable soapboxing. But this feels like a decision staying true to ourselves, and doing what we think is is right for our music, having our music in places that we feel all right about. Was choosing to leave a complicated decision for the band? The thing that made it hard was I do want to have our music be accessible to people. I don't really care about making money from streaming. I know it's unfair, and I know they are banking so much. But for me personally, I just want to make music, and I want people to be able to listen to it. The hard part was to take that away from so many people. But sometimes you've just got to say, 'Well, sorry, we're not going to be here right now.' In the end, it actually was just one quick phone call with the other guys to get off the ship. As the sizes of everything gets larger, all of the stakes start to feel higher. I grapple with that, because that's not the kind of band that I like to be in, where it feels like everything is high stakes. I do miss the time where we could just do anything without any consequences, but I still try really hard to operate like that. In the past, I have felt tied to it, that we have to be there. But with this band, we have been happy to take a lot of risks, and for the most part, I'm just happy to see what happens if we just choose the path that feels right for us. Do you think Spotify noticed or cares that you left? I don't expect Daniel Ek to pay attention to this. We have made a lot of experimental moves with the way we've released records — bootlegging stuff for free. We have allowed ourselves a license to break conventions, and the people who listen to our music have a trust and a faith to go along on this ride together. I feel grateful to have the sort of fan base you'll just trust, even when you do something a little counterintuitive. It feels like an experiment to me, like, 'Let's just go away from Spotify, and let's see what happens.' Why does this have to be a big deal? It actually feels like we're just trying to find our own positivity in a dark situation. 'Phantom Island' is a really distinct record in your catalog for using so much orchestration. I heard some conversations with the L.A. Phil planted the seed for it? We played this Hollywood Bowl show a little over two years ago, and being the home stadium of the L.A. Phil, we naturally chatted with them at the show. It did plant a seed of doing a show there backed by the orchestra. We happened to be halfway through making a record at that exact time that we weren't really sure how to finish. When we started talking about doing a show backed by an orchestra, we thought, 'Let's just make an album with an orchestra.' We rearranged and rewrote these songs with a composer, Chad Kelly. We knew the songs needed something, and we ended up rewriting the songs to work for a rock band in a symphonic medium. Were there any records you looked to for how to make that approach work? I hear a lot of ELO in there, Isaac Hayes, maybe the Beatles' 'A Day in the Life.' To be completely honest, I just don't think there was a model for it. I think we landed on something that we only could have made because we wrote the songs not knowing there were going to be orchestral parts. When you ask me what were the touchstones, well, there weren't any. I was probably thinking of a lot of music from the early '60s, a lot of soul and R&B music at that time, which had often had orchestral arrangements. Etta James, for instance, was in the tone and the feel. This isn't the perfect way to do it, but it was a really serendipitous process. Your live shows are pretty raucous to say the least; how did you adapt to keep that feeling with orchestras behind you on this tour? I was pretty anxious, to be honest. We only had one rehearsal the day before the first show. We had to go in and cross our fingers, like, 'Okay, I think that's going to work. I'm just going to hope that it translates.' Our rehearsal was the most intense two and a half hours, but for the show, you're just like, 'All right, this is it.' You've just got to commit to what's on the page. We've had some really awesome people collaborating with us — Sean O'Laughlin did the arrangements for the live shows, and Sarah Hicks is an amazing conductor. We're just a garage rock band from Australia; we're very lucky to get to honestly work with the best of the best. On the other end of the venue spectrum, what was it like playing a residency in a Lithuanian prison? It was a real prison until really recently [Lukiškės Prison 2.0 in Vilnius, Lithuania]. The history is very dark — like, very, very dark. But there are artist spaces there now, and it's quite a culturally positive force. They're the things that make you restore your faith in humanity. You spend so much of your life losing faith in it, and then you go to places like that, and you're like, 'Yeah, humans are okay.' Speaking of threats to humanity, I think your band contests the idea that artists need to use AI to make enough music to be successful on streaming. You're proof you can make a ton of music quickly, with real people. Making music is fun as f—, especially making music with other people. That's a deeply motivating factor, and we just have a ton of fun making music together. It feels human, it feels spiritual, it feels social. It's deeply central to who we all are as human beings. And it doesn't feel hard. It doesn't feel like we're fighting against some AI trend or anything. We just make music because it feels good. You're an arena act with your own label, and pretty autonomous as a band. Do you think you've figured out something important about how to be successful in the modern music economy? I think we've been good at asking internal questions, and questioning what everybody else does and whether we need to do that or not. Sometimes we do the same thing that everybody else does. Sometimes we do something completely different because it makes sense to us. I think we've been quite good at being true to ourselves and being confident, or maybe reckless enough to do that. I do think there's some serendipity and fate in the personalities of the other guys in the band, and the people that we work with, who have have also been on a pretty unconventional journey and have faith that — in the least pretentious way possible — that other people will dig it, and not worry too much about the other other stuff. Do you hope to see more and bigger bands striking out on their own, since the big institutions of the music business have yet again proven to not really reflect their values? I just know what has worked for us, and I'm not sure that means that it'll work for other people. I don't know if there's a model in it. If there is a model, it's that you don't have to follow a path if you don't want to. The well-treaded path is going to work for some people, but you don't have to stay on that. I think one thing about this band is that we've all been at peace with failing. That if this all fell apart and we went back home and we got regular jobs, I think we would say, 'Well, we're proud of ourselves. We had a good time.' We did what we wanted to do and just suffered the consequences along the way. We're probably being reckless enough to make potentially selfish decisions over and over again. But people, for some reason, want to come out and see us do that, and we're super grateful.
