How did you celebrate Bob Weir Day? Mayor, Hanson threw down at Cain's
By MATT GLEASON World Staff Writer
5/10/2003

Thanks to Tulsa Mayor Bill LaFortune, Thursday was the best Bob Weir Day I ever had.

During a 30-minute break in Weir's three-hour show at the Cain's Ballroom, LaFortune -- clad in a blue tie-dyed Ratdog shirt -- sauntered up to the microphone with his daughter.

He was greeted by the horde of oh-so-groovy Ratdog fans -- some smoking more than cigarettes -- as if he were a square uncle who finally decided to wave his freak flag for all to see.

As the mayor ticked off Weir's lifetime achievements in a "special proclamation," LaFortune garnered especially loud cheers anytime he mentioned two words: "Grateful" and "Dead."

All the while, Weir cooly checked his gear and tried to not make eye contact with the crowd or LaFortune. But then the mayor announced that the remainder of May 8, 2003 -- all two hours of it -- as Bob Weir Day. Despite a lifetime of adulation, Weir -- wearing Birkenstocks and baggy shorts -- seemed genuinely happy. His big eyes widened and a grin peeked out from his bushy salt-and-pepper beard.

Weir opened the Cain's show with an acoustic version of the Beatles' "Blackbird." From there, Ratdog hardly paused while playing a myriad of Grateful Dead tunes, a smattering of original Ratdog material and a stellar cover of Bob Dylan's "When I Paint My Masterpiece."

Like the Dead, Ratdog is at its best on stage. Sure, they jam, but the madness is controlled. Weir and company don't inhibit themselves, but they also don't bore the audience with directionless jams. They are a talented band of musicians that lets tunes surge, recede and burst forth again to great effect.

Whenever Weir wasn't on the mike, sax player Kenny Brooks and keyboardist Jeff Chimenti stole the show. Although, lead guitarist Mark Karan, who eerily looks like a young Jerry Garcia, made "Scarlet Begonias" one of the most memorable tunes of the night.

After the mayor's proclamation, Weir and Ratdog continued their homage to its Grateful Dead heritage by performing Dead tunes, ranging from the slow jazz-infused tune "Lost Sailor" to its epic jam "Estimated Prophet."

By the time Ratdog played its last few songs, the Cain's audience was a sweaty conglomeration of elder Deadheads and junior hippies gleefully bouncing to Ratdog's groove.

The crowd and Ratdog were having such a good time that Taylor Hanson couldn't resist subtly slipping behind Chimenti's keyboards during the highlight of the evening, "Saint Steven." Taylor made his presence clear, though, later on as he burned up and down the piano keys. Hanson's appearance wasn't a total surprise since Weir is a fan of Hanson, and he invited the Tulsa trio to play with him at a 1999 gig in New York City.

After a rousing version of the bluesy "Not Fade Away" -- twenty minutes before the end of Bob Weir Day -- the Cain's audience beckoned Weir back on stage. Spontaneously, the hundreds of Dead/Ratdog devotees began chanting the song -- "You know my love, not fade away," clap, clap, clap-clap, "You know my love, not fade away" -- over and over until Weir reappeared on stage to sing "Goin' Down the Road Feelin' Bad."

At the end of the show, I couldn't help but think, "What an elongated, atypical journey this has been" -- or something like that.