Lesh, who played the last several nights in New York City, ranks fans there with Philly's in demanding the most from Furthur's spacey approximation of the psychedelic Dead spirit. "You guys and New York want so much out of us, and we wind up delivering so much more than we bargained for," says Lesh with a laugh. "You're all very enthusiastic."
Lesh can't quite put his finger on what those demands are: "Like so many things, it verges on the intangible." Then again, Lesh can't put his finger on anything: "So much of what we do and what we get back is an intangible."
That's a fair characterization of bassist/composer Lesh. He's a fluidly innovative player as versed in Bach as in Mingus. With guitarist Weir, he's created a sensational mesh of muzzy music based on the most intangible of acts. Lesh and Weir are restless souls who within the loose confines of Furthur must maintain the tradition while finding new ways to groove. Like magic, innovation is hard to capture, hard to define. "Our muse is a fickle beast, and she doesn't always come on call," Lesh says. "We have to remain open to the potential - all possibilities, rather than a predictable path."
Weir and Lesh had toured together in several configurations before Furthur. Back in the Dead days, Lesh says, the members of the band were true equals, truly brothers: "Each of us were fingers on a hand; an absolute equality of balance." In the same spirit, there's no manifesto to this new band, no template for their approach to one another, other musicians, or fans. The pair knew they wanted to re-create the spirit of wide-open freedom that "defined the '60s," says Lesh. "Every so often we succeed, but we have the components in order for that to happen, so that openness is set up for everyone that plays with us."
