
This entry (and about half of these guy’s songs) could have served as my post for 4-20, but since some friends and I were actually seeing the New Riders in concert that night, I waited. NRPS spun out of the same drug-soaked surroundings as the Grateful Dead, and the band was initially launched as a vehicle for Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh & Mickey Hart to explore the more rustic and countrified vein of influence which took them in at that time; by the recording of this track and album however, they had coalesced into their own band, apart from the Dead but still very closely intertwined through concerts and, presumably, “business” (wink). Where the Dead had Robert Hunter and John Barlow penning lyrics which recalled timeless American tales and epic sagas, the Riders basically wrote about the lifestyles of themselves and their buddies---namely, running drugs and/or whiskey, consuming drugs and/or whiskey, growing drugs and/or manufacturing whiskey…oh, and being hurt by evil women, of course. Essentially, if you were into taking drugs in the 1970s than you have probably listened to a New Riders album; if you were also into dealing drugs in the 1970s, than you probably owned said album. This song tells the near-comical tale of a modern day cowboy, lost amidst the lights and libations in the city of angels, only instead of the traditional hooch and bottom lip stuffed full of chewing tobacco this cowboy is rolling spliffs and doing lines of blow…you know, updating the image for us. Only two of the original members still remain in the touring lineup, Dave Nelson on guitar and Buddy Cage on pedal steel; bassist Dave Torbert and drummer Spencer Dryden have both passed on, and John Dawson has major health issues which keep him sidelined, although he sends his blessings to the tour. And what a great show it was for 4-20, people smoking joints and even bongs openly in the bar, the band still sounds excellent, looking every bit their age & part as pied pipers to heads and dealers with forklifts everywhere!