photo: Jay Blakesberg

[This article appears in our special 132-page Bob Weir edition, which presents rare photography, archival interviews and new conversations that pay tribute to an endearing, enduring artist. We previously shared our Sturgill Simpson feature from the publication.]

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When Susan Tedeschi was growing up in Norwell, Mass. during the 1980s, she first heard the music of Bob Weir and the Grateful Dead performed live, albeit indirectly.

“As a teenager, I was a fan of this band called Metamorphosis,” she recalls. “They would play the Grateful Dead, along with Marshall Tucker, the Rolling Stones and some others. I wasn’t allowed to go to those kinds of concerts, but I would go see Metamorphosis and they would cover them. Then when I was 14, I was in a band and we played ‘U.S. Blues’ at a party, although I still didn’t fully get the Grateful Dead.”

That revelation came later. In the fall of 2002, Tedeschi jumped into the deep end and joined Weir, Phil Lesh, Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann the first time they toured together following the death of Jerry Garcia, performing as The Other Ones, with Rob Barraco, Jeff Chimenti and Jimmy Herring. Her relationship with Weir blossomed from there, and he would later appear with the Tedeschi Trucks Band, while she played with Wolf Bros and the collaborative group he assembled for the 2024 Dead Ahead destination event.

You joined Bobby, Phil, Mickey and Bill on that Other Ones tour they did together. How did that come about?

It began in the summer of ’99 when Derek got a call about filling in on guitar for a Phil Lesh and Friends tour. Derek didn’t know who Phil was, and I was like, “I think that’s a guy from the Grateful Dead.” So Derek asked Marty [Wall] his front of house sound man and tour manager, who told him, “Dude, you’ve got to call him back!” Then he gave him the whole rundown on Phil.

Derek wasn’t sure because he didn’t know the tunes, but I was like, “Honey, you don’t need to know the tunes. You need to go and listen and just do what you do.” At the time Derek and I were dating, and I would go out and see him with Phil and Friends in between our tours. That’s when I first got to know Phil.

Then, fast-forward to the late fall of 2001. I was pregnant with Charlie, who was due in March, and Phil asked if we wanted to come to San Francisco and play on New Year’s Eve [where Phil and Friends were performing at the Kaiser Auditorium]. I was like, “Hell yeah, we’ve got to go do that!” Well that ended up being the night they decided to announce that they’re putting The Other Ones together. The way they did that was Bob, Mickey, Billy and Phil came through the audience dressed in wizard costumes on top of a riser that carried them to the stage. It was New Year’s Eve and people were freaking out. I have this photo where I’m pregnant as can be and my belly was sticking out while I was singing with them.

photo: Jay Blakesberg

That’s when Phil asked if I would come sing on The Other Ones tour. I told him that I was having a baby in March, but he explained it wasn’t until November. They got me Faith Hill’s old bus that she had used when she had babies on the road.

It was a first on so many levels for me: first time being a mom, first time being away from Derek while I was also trying to learn the tunes. Jimmy Herring was in the band, he had this thick book and we would go over stuff. Then we’d have rehearsals, and I was also nursing, so I was trying to time out when to nurse, because these rehearsals would go for three or four hours, and Charlie was nursing every two hours. It was a learning experience, but at the same time, I remember thinking, “Wow, this is awesome!”

That was when I first connected with Bobby, who had his two young daughters out there with him as well. He’d ask me stuff like, “Do you need anything for Charlie? How’s he doing?” He was quite endearing and very down to earth. He was fun to be around.

I also remember when we played Madison Square and he tried to give me mushrooms. I was like, “Bobby, I’m nursing. I can’t do mushrooms right now.” He was like, “I’m sorry. I forgot. OK, I’ll do yours too.” So he ate them in front of me while we were on stage and then he broke into “Shakedown.” [Laughs.] I was thinking, “What are you doing right now? You’re freaking blowing my mind.” I mean, how do you play on mushrooms in the first place? I just can’t. I’ll start laughing. I cannot do mushrooms and play music. Maybe my brain is just not wired for it.

That was a joke with us for years. Man, he was hilarious and just so sweet.

Can you talk about Bobby as a guitar player?

When I first heard him, I didn’t know what to think. But then as I did shows with him, I learned to love and respect him even more. I realized that he had created his own style of rhythm playing and I really fell in love with it.

Jimmy Herring was in the band with us, and we talked about it. Jimmy was like, “At first I wasn’t sure, but now I think he’s awesome.”

Bobby had a certain rhythm playing that added to the groove of the band. Carlos Santana says it best—“If you’re not making the ladies dance, then you’re not doing it right.” Well, Bobby would get everyone dancing. He had a certain groove and a calmness about him. He wasn’t ever trying to force the playing. He was always just kind of in his thing.

Some of the things that he would play wouldn’t be in a normal voicing. It was like Big Al Anderson from NRBQ—he could make a chord that you’ve heard a billion times in a different position with a different shape. You’d be like, “Wait, what is that? I haven’t heard that.” So it was really cool. He’d create his own voicings for something, it would work, and it was great.

Some people play the same way every time. They play the same solo every time, they play chords the exact same way every time. He would start there, but then he would sometimes take his hand off the guitar and it was almost like he was letting something else in, and then he’d try to go somewhere else. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but he wasn’t afraid.

Dickey Betts was very much like that—not afraid to go out on the cliff and not afraid to fail. I think the stuff that creates greatness is going out on a limb and trusting, then having it take you somewhere.

You mentioned that when you were touring with The Other Ones, he had his family with him. Did he offer you parenting advice in any manner, shape or form?

There wasn’t a whole lot of parenting advice, but he taught me something really important just by having them out with him. I remember that both girls, Monet and Chloe, were out, along with Natascha. They were all such a joy and a light, beautiful inside and out.

They would come and be around him, and he would go back in at the end of the night to check in with his family. He wasn’t out partying and leaving them behind. He was conscious that they were there.

They were really fascinating to me because he was on the road with kids. We had the three kids on the road together. Charlie was just a baby, but through the years we would do things and they would be a little bit more grown up and they would come out. They were sweet girls, really good kids.

But he showed you how to parent by actions, not by telling you. He would also get up early, and I’d end up seeing him in the gym of whatever hotel we were staying. It was hilarious. He’d be down there in his shorts and workout shirt, while I’d be out working out. He’d be on the treadmill while I’d be on a bike or doing some weights.

One last question: Thinking back, was there a particular song you enjoyed playing with Bobby?

It was so much fun singing “Ramble on Rose” with him. That was one where he would really be in the moment to the point where he’d swap up the verses that we’d decided on in advance. We’d practice it beforehand, then we’d go out and he’d do it differently. That made me realize it’s about laying down the groundwork for where you want to start, but it doesn’t mean that’s going to be where you end up.

It happened when we were in Mexico and we did the gig with Sturgill. He said, “OK Susan, you’re going to sing these verses and I’m going to sing these.” Then we’d go out and he’d sing mine, and I ended up having to sing his. I’d be like, “Darn it, I knew I should have learned the entire song.” [Laughs.] Thankfully, I’d have little notes or whatever, so I could remember.

It was really cute. You just had to be on your toes at all times. You didn’t know where something was going. But he had this ability to bring the audience in while he would still be present with you. Then he would look at you and you knew, “OK it’s my time to do something.” He had a way to communicate without words.

He also brought people together. He really did care about humanity. He cared about politics, he cared about real issues, and he was not afraid to talk about it. He would get out there and inspire kids to vote and to have an opinion. He encouraged them to stand up for each other and for human rights and for the right to love whoever they wanted to love and to be whoever they wanted to be. He was really special that way.

He added so much joy to the world and I’m really sad he’s gone.