Al Franken Provides Comic Relief at the Grateful Dead’s 1980 Halloween Concert: A Tribute to Our Favorite Deadhead Senator

Our illus­tri­ous Sen­a­tor from Min­neso­ta Al Franken has long been a Dead­head, or at least an ardent fan. He and com­e­dy part­ner Tom Davis were the first writ­ers hired by Sat­ur­day Night Live in 1975 and occa­sion­al­ly also per­formed rou­tines on the show. They were also Grate­ful Dead fans respon­si­ble for get­ting the band booked on SNL.

So by the time 1980 and the eight-night res­i­den­cy of the Grate­ful Dead at Radio City Music Hall rolled around, Franken and Davis were asked to host the final night, Hal­loween, for a show that was simul­cast on radio and closed cir­cuit tele­vi­sion to 14 movie the­aters around the coun­try. Their job? To help enter­tain view­ers and fill the two 40-minute breaks in the Dead­’s show.

For Radio City Music Hall, the event saved its finan­cial skin. Accord­ing to Rolling Stone, by the late ‘70s, “with New York City in fis­cal freefall, Radio City’s future was sud­den­ly shaky; movie atten­dance dropped, and plans to con­vert it into an office build­ing or park­ing lot loomed.”

The solu­tion was to book pop and rock acts. The first was Lin­da Ron­stadt. The sec­ond was the Dead, and soon Dead­heads descend­ed on Rock­e­feller cen­ter, buy­ing up 36,000 tick­ets.

Franken and Davis pre-taped many of the seg­ments, and the Dead loved mock­ing them­selves. There’s a Jer­ry Lewis Telethon par­o­dy for “Jerry’s Kids,” where Franken urges dona­tions for acid casu­al­ties; Bob Weir’s lux­u­ri­ous hair is admired; drugs and penis jokes abound; and at one point Davis “mis­tak­en­ly” drinks acid-dosed urine and trips out. (In real­i­ty, Davis actu­al­ly had dropped acid for the live por­tion.)

Radio City’s lawyers sued after the con­certs for dam­ag­ing its rep­u­ta­tion, but lat­er set­tled. A com­pi­la­tion video of the Hal­loween show and the pre­vi­ous night’s con­cert was released in 1981 as Dead Ahead, the source of these clips.

Tom Davis died in 2012 from throat and neck can­cer; and Al Franken rep­re­sents the cit­i­zens of Min­neso­ta, but did briefly take over SiriusXM’s Grate­ful Dead chan­nel in May of 2017 to host a full day of music and inter­views with Bob Weir, Bill Kreutz­mann and Mick­ey Hart, the sur­viv­ing mem­bers of the Dead (always an iron­ic turn of phrase).

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Sen­a­tor Al Franken Does a Pitch Per­fect Imi­ta­tion of Mick Jag­ger (1982)

Al Franken Effort­less­ly Draws the Map of Amer­i­ca

11,215 Free Grate­ful Dead Con­cert Record­ings in the Inter­net Archive

Bob Dylan and The Grate­ful Dead Rehearse Togeth­er in Sum­mer 1987. Lis­ten to 74 Tracks.

The Grate­ful Dead Play at the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids, in the Shad­ow of the Sphinx (1978)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the artist inter­view-based FunkZone Pod­cast and is the pro­duc­er of KCR­W’s Curi­ous Coast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

The Tokyoiter: Artists Pay Tribute to the Japanese Capital with New Yorker-Style Magazine Covers

When humorist and New York­er con­trib­u­tor David Sedaris quit smok­ing about a decade ago, he chose Tokyo in which to do it: “Its for­eign­ness would take me out of myself, I hoped, and give me some­thing to con­cen­trate on besides my own suf­fer­ing.” That first extend­ed trip not only allowed him to kick the habit and gave him plen­ty of cul­ture clash­es to write about, but began his rela­tion­ship with Tokyo that con­tin­ues to this day. “Win­dows flanked the mov­ing side­walks, and on their ledges sat pot­ted flow­ers,” he writes in appre­ci­a­tion in his first diaries there. “No one had pulled the petals off. No one had thrown trash into the pots or dashed them to the floor. How dif­fer­ent life looks when peo­ple behave them­selves.”

Most strik­ing­ly of all, there stood all “those vend­ing machines, right out in the open, lined up on the side­walk like peo­ple wait­ing for a bus.” The then-Paris-based Sedaris com­mis­er­ates with a French Japan­ese lan­guage school class­mate: “ ‘Can you believe it?’ he asked. ‘In the sub­way sta­tion, on the street, they just stand there, com­plete­ly unmo­lest­ed.’ ”

Our Indone­sian class­mate came up, and after lis­ten­ing to us go on, he asked what the big deal was.

“In New York or Paris, these machines would be trashed,” I told him.

The Indone­sian raised his eye­brows.

“He means destroyed,” Christophe said. “Per­sons would break the glass and cov­er every­thing with graf­fi­ti.”

The Indone­sian stu­dent asked why, and we were hard put to explain.

“It’s some­thing to do?” I offered.

“But you can read a news­pa­per,” the Indone­sian said.

“Yes,” I explained, “but that wouldn’t sat­is­fy your basic need to tear some­thing apart.”

Those vend­ing machines, a basic expec­ta­tion to Toky­oites but a bare­ly imag­in­able lux­u­ry to many a for­eign­er, appear on one cov­er of the Toky­oi­ter, a col­lab­o­ra­tive art project pro­duc­ing a series of cov­ers for an imag­i­nary New York­er-style mag­a­zine based in the Japan­ese cap­i­tal. This trib­ute to a dis­tinc­tive­ly Japan­ese form of auto­mat­ed side­walk com­merce comes from Hen­nie Haworth, an illus­tra­tor based in Eng­land (where Sedaris also now lives, inci­den­tal­ly) who spent six months in Japan doing noth­ing but draw­ing its vend­ing machines.

“I have a fam­i­ly mem­ber liv­ing in Japan which gives me excuse to vis­it every now and again,” writes illus­tra­tor Yuliya. “One of the main inspi­ra­tions I find in folk­lore and all the mag­i­cal beings of Japan. I’m orig­i­nal­ly from Ukraine and grew up sur­round­ed by folk tales and super­sti­tions, and even though I nev­er tru­ly believed in any of it, it always fas­ci­nat­ed me. I miss that in mod­ern West­ern world. So the crea­tures on my cov­er are made up but they are inspired by Japan­ese Yokai and just like the rest of Tokyo, they’re tak­ing a spon­ta­neous nap on the train.” Oth­er Toky­oi­ter cov­ers, con­tributed by artists from all around the world, take as their sub­jects Toky­o’s archi­tec­ture, its food, its street life, its bath hous­es, and much more besides.

Tak­en as a col­lec­tion, the project presents a com­bi­na­tion of images of Tokyo famil­iar even to those who’ve nev­er set foot in the city and ref­er­ences whose nuances only a Toky­oite — or at least some­one with a Sedaris-lev­el famil­iar­i­ty with the place — can imme­di­ate­ly grasp. What could be more Tokyo, for instance, than the Rock­a­bil­ly dancers of Yoyo­gi Park, por­trayed here by Aus­tralian artist Grace Lee, who for more than 40 years have spent their Sun­day after­noons tak­ing 1950s Amer­i­cana to its absolute lim­it for the enjoy­ment of all who pass by? And if you’ve gone to see them your­self, you’ll know that, if you get thirsty while watch­ing, you can sim­ply buy a drink from one of the many vend­ing machines near­by, all lined up right out in the open.

See more cov­ers in the Toky­oi­ter col­lec­tion here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Curat­ed Col­lec­tion of Vin­tage Japan­ese Mag­a­zine Cov­ers (1913–46)

New Archive Presents The Chicagoan, Chicago’s Jazz-Age Answer to The New York­er (1926 to 1935)

Mashup Artist “Kuti­man” Trav­els to Tokyo and Cre­ates an Incred­i­ble Musi­cal Post­card

Time Trav­el Back to Tokyo After World War II, and See the City in Remark­ably High-Qual­i­ty 1940s Video

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Short Documentary on Artist Jeff Koons, Narrated by Scarlett Johansson

If you don’t move, noth­ing hap­pens. — Jeff Koons

Jeff Koons, the sub­ject of Oscar Boyson’s recent pop video essay, above, is sure­ly one of the most wide­ly known liv­ing artists. As with fel­low artists Damien Hirst and Cindy Sher­man the spot­light has pro­duced an army of detrac­tors who know very lit­tle about him, or his large, far-rang­ing body of work.

The choice of Scar­lett Johans­son to pro­vide snarky sec­ond-per­son nar­ra­tion might not jol­ly Koons’ naysay­ers into sus­pend­ing judg­ment long enough for a prop­er rein­tro­duc­tion. (His show-and-tell dis­play of his Venus of Wil­len­dorf cof­fee mug caus­es her to quip, “You sexy moth­er­fuck­er.” Ugh.)

On the oth­er hand, there’s rap­per Phar­rell Williams’ onscreen obser­va­tion that, “We need haters out there. They’re our walk­ing affir­ma­tions that we’re doing some­thing right.”

The poten­tial for clam­orous neg­a­tive reac­tion has nev­er pro­pelled Koons to shy away from doing things on the grand scale in the pub­lic are­na, as the giant open air dis­play of such sculp­tures as “Seat­ed Bal­le­ri­na,” “Bal­loon Flower,” and “Pup­py” will attest.

Sure­ly, the genial affect he brings to the film is not what those who abhor “Made in Heav­en,” a series of erot­ic 3‑D self-por­traits co-star­ring his then-wife, porn-star Ilona “Cic­ci­oli­na” Staller, would have expect­ed.

Nor does he come off as a pan­der­ing, high priest of kitsch, some­thing cer­tain to dis­ap­point those who abhor “Michael Jack­son and Bub­bles,” his gaudy, larg­er-than-life glazed porce­lain sculp­ture of the King of Pop and his pet chimp.

“Kitsch is a word I real­ly don’t believe in,” he smiles (pos­si­bly all the way to the bank).

Instead, he veers toward reflec­tion, a fit­ting pre­oc­cu­pa­tion for an artist giv­en to mir­ror-pol­ished stain­less steel and more recent­ly, gaz­ing balls of the sort com­mon­ly found on 20th-cen­tu­ry Amer­i­can lawns. He wants view­ers to take a good look at them­selves, along with his work.

Those whose hearts are set against him are unlike­ly to be swayed, but the unde­cid­ed and open-mind­ed might soft­en to a list of influ­ences includ­ing Duchamp, Dali, DaVin­ci, Frag­o­nard, Berni­ni, and Manet.

Dit­to the opin­ions of a diverse array of talk­ing heads like Frank Gehry, Lar­ry Gagosian, and fel­low post-mod­ernist David Salle, who prais­es Koons’ artis­tic ded­i­ca­tion to “every­day Amer­i­can-style hap­pi­ness.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

John Waters: The Point of Con­tem­po­rary Art

Cindy Sherman’s Insta­gram Account Goes Pub­lic, Reveal­ing 600 New Pho­tos & Many Strange Self-Por­traits

Teens Pon­der Mean­ing of Con­tem­po­rary Art

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.