Mickey Hart Band Wednesday, November 28th, 2012 Paradise Performing Arts Center

By Danny Cohen

I got there a few minutes late and everyone was outside getting high. Dreadlocks and patchouli permeated everything. I waited in line with hot young girls, but I already had a free ticket. Half-nude West Africans out of an old Tarzan movie came out and danced like Zulus while playing Golden Gate Park hand drum monotony, only a million times better. Some long-haired doofus was clapping out of time and uttering yayhoo yelps next to me. I finally had to mash his legs and sit on the bass amp side blurting out, “You fucking idiot”, between songs. Then the dancers stupidly started clapping and the whole place clapped out of time with itself.

Mickey’s band came on in driblets and it sounded like a wall of mush. When the Africans left, it deteriorated fast with a young twerp guitarist that made Loki Miller look like Segovia, an Alembic six-string bass that was WAY TOO LOUD and busy, and a huge soul singer that belied the psychedelia, giving the whole thing a Tonight Show Band during commercials feel. Mickey cavorted on timbales like Tito Puente, and these dead-headed fucks started dancing, but I had to adjourn to the last row where skanky cows tried to pick me up.

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