Dead Songs in Depth

    
That's It For The Other One (including Cyptical Envelopment)
w: Garcia, Weir m: Garcia, Weir, Kreutzmann
AGDL: http://arts.ucsc.edu/gdead/agdl/other1.html
LASF: http://www.whitegum.com/songfile/CRYPTICL.HTM
LASF: http://www.whitegum.com/songfile/OTHERONE.HTM
  

    
Cryptical Envelopment 
Lyrics: Jerry Garcia
Music: Jerry Garcia

Copyright Ice Nine Publishing; used by permission.

The other day they waited
The sky was dark and faded
Solemnly they stated
He has to die
You know he has to die

And all the children learning
From books that they were burning
Every leaf was turning
To watch him die
You know he has to die

The summer sun looked down on him
His mother could but frown on him
And all the others sound on him
But it doesn't seem to matter

And when the day had ended
With rainbow colours blended
His mind remained unbended
He had to die
You know he had to die
You know he had to die


The Other One (aka The Faster We Go, The Rounder We Get)
Lyrics: Bob Weir
Music: Bob Weir/Bill Kreutzmann

Copyright Ice Nine Publishing; used by permission.

Spanish lady come to me, she lays on me this rose
It rainbow spirals round and round, it trembles and explodes
It left a smoking crater of my mind I like to blow away
But the heat came round and busted me for smiling on a cloudy day

Chorus
Coming, coming, coming around
Coming around, coming around, in a circle
Coming, coming, coming around
Coming around, coming around, in a circle

Escaping through the lily fields, I came across an empty space
It trembled and exploded, left a bus stop in its place
The bus came by and I got on, that's when it all began
There was Cowboy Neal at the wheel of the bus to never ever land

[chorus]
  

    


Dr. Paul Smith writes:



You know, for that matter, while I've got you on the line, I wondered why in
the Annotated Dead Lyrics book when it talks about "the faster we go the
rounder we get" there isn't any reference to the "Lorentz transformations":

http://hyperphysics.phy-astr.gsu.edu/hbase/relativ/tdil.html

(changes of shape of objects when they reach speeds near that of light).

        Does Billy Idol have a song about that too? <grin>





(see <deadsongs.vue.91> for the Billy Idol reference)
  

    
We need to get Dr. Smith to join the WELL, or to become part of the
annual Grateful Dead caucus at the Popular Culture conference in
Albuquerque.

Or, better yet, both!
  

    
It is worth noting this Cowboy Neal at the wheel reference from Phil
Lesh:

"There was one more out-of-town tryout for us, the Beaver Hall Test in
Portland. The Test itself has receded into the mists of antiquity,
except for the vague memory of playing in an upstairs warehouse with
concrete pillars everywhere and bare lath and wiring on the walls.
What mattered about the Portland Acid Test was the journey toward it.
   
It began as our first trip together on Further, Kesey's fabled bus.
Bobby and I had day-tripped on the bus to see the Beatles at the Cow
Palace earlier that year, but for the majority of the band it was a
first. Leaving Palo Alto as early as possible, by midafternoon or so,
we were halfway up the Central Valley bound for Shasta and points
north, and then: Catastrophe! The bus breaks down! Never let it be
said that the show did not go on! What to do?
   

We rent a U-Haul truck; we strip the bus and cram all of us -- the
band, the Pranksters -- and everything else into the truck. I jump
into the shotgun seat up front, and we cruise off into the darkening
storm of the worst blizzard in years: over the Siskiyou Mountains in
the dead of night. Neal pressing ever onward, the rhythm of the falling
snow sweeping through the headlights, sliding in and out of synch with
the music piped into the cockpit by means of our patented two-way
distort-o-phonic communication system, set up so that those in the back
could also hear Neal's multiple personalities conversing with one
another. If ever the magic of the open road was distilled into a single
experience, it was, for me, that night sitting next to Neal, hurtling
into the dazzling play of light and shade on the whirling snow with his
voice turning every sentence into a poem, all sensory input synched up
(or sometimes not, and that's good too) with the rhythm of the wipers
and whatever music happened to randomly penetrate our awareness.
  
Upon our return from Portland, all the scuttlebutt was ablaze with
the plans for the "Big One"; the Trips Festival, to take place in San
Francisco's Longshoreman's Hall." 

Searching for the Sound - Phil Lesh - Pages 72-73
  

    
<distort-o-phonic communication system, set up so that those in the
back could also hear Neal's multiple personalities conversing with one
another.>  

George Walker was telling me about this last night on the way to the
Furthur show in Portland.  He was saying how he was one of the few who
tapped into Neal's rap––paid attention to the nonstop verbal flow.
According to George, Neal was piloting Furthur through a state where
the stop lights were aligned horizontally instead of vertically. 
Problem was that Neal was color blind and couldn't tell if the
brightened light they were approaching was red or green.  Neal said
something to the effect that "We got a colorful situation
here...anyone with eyes for the red or the green?"

"It's all green, Neal," George told him, and Furthur sailed on
through.
  

    
As strong an argument for States' rights as I have ever seen.
  

    
!!!
  

    
red and green lights stoplights are designed to be clearly distinct to
people with red-green colorbind (I think the red looks very dark and
the green light), if I recall correctly, but there's no reason that
should get in the way of a good story
  

    
Hey, I've been there, when all three of us in a car could NOT agree
on what color stop lights were.....and they were vertical, fwiw. We
had to make it through 8 lights to get safely through our little
East TN valley town. Eight lucky guesses. 

Yesterday, while reading Thomas Wolfe's first novel, Look Homeward
Angel, on page 373 of my edition, he writes this short paragraph:

  -"Yes," said Eugene. He spoke obediently, indifferently, hard
bright mail of his mind undinted by the jargon: within, the Other
One, who had no speech, saw.-

  I'll add that the entire lyric from "Cryptical Envelopment"
reminds me of Wolfe's story(so far), culminating in the walk he took
on a summer's day with his "girl", Laura James.  

 

 
  

    
Good stuff!

In many renditions I hear Bobby sing, "Spanish lady comes to me, she
lays on me this drug"

Projection, maybe.