Grahame Lesh, Joan Baez, Mike Gordon and Others Pen Tributes to Bobby Weir

Photo: Thomas Falcone

On Saturday, January 10, Bobby Weir, an original member of the pioneering jamband the Grateful Dead, passed away at age 78. Following the loss of the improvisational music community’s commander and leading stalwart, friends, collaborators, and devotees have penned tributes to Weir, reflecting on his mammoth impression and enduring impact.

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Grahame Lesh:

From as early as I can remember, Bobby was the kindest “uncle” I could ask for. I was so young when Jerry passed, so my memories of my dad with his musical brothers are mostly with him & Bob. I loved getting to spend time with the two of them. They always seemed to act like teenagers together, as if they were back in Menlo Park in 1965 and no time had passed. When I began playing music myself he was so supportive, and especially when Terrapin started he – like my dad – seemed to thrive on joining us youngsters in whatever musical nonsense we wanted to get up to. My friend Evan reminds me that Bob came to our…junior year?..high school talent show where we played Sugar Magnolia, and he was thrilled with how we played it and so complimentary about the performance. From that moment to nearly 25 years later inviting me to join him and Dead & Company in front of thousands & thousands of people this past summer – he has always been so encouraging to me and others like me up there making music and joining in the fun. And of course, top of mind these days is how loving and wonderful Bobby & Natascha (and Monet & Chloe!) were to all of us in the wake of my dad’s passing, and how protective they all were to Claire & I at the Kennedy Center Honors and MusiCares. I send all of my love to them. We share so much unique life experience, and this is one more that we all experience. Fare thee well, Ace. F’kn A

“We will not speak but stand inside the rain

And listen to the thunder shout

‘I am! I am! I am! I am!’”

Joan Baez: 

Bless your heart, you glorious, grizzly old man. You were always true to yourself and your millions of fans, from when you were a young kid in a cool band, to when you became a seasoned elder, sporting your lumberjack beard, still a musical anomaly – a true legend in our time. I am lucky to have known you, and to have sung with you on occasion. Now put the guitar down and get some rest.

I’ll miss you.

Mike Gordon: 

Bob Weir was such a wonderful and fascinating person. Long before we met and ultimately became friends, he seemed like such an enigma. Going to Grateful Dead shows as a teenager, I’d catch flashes of swagger: an occasional hair flick, a certain presence, and at the same time he struck me as profoundly selfless.

His rhythm guitar playing lived so deeply inside the music that it was almost impossible to hear on its own. I remember friends saying “I can’t even hear what he’s doing.” And yet there it was in the center of the groove, churning the most inventive, mesmerizing guitar patterns imaginable. I’m not just saying that. I was so deeply enamored with his contribution to their sound that I couldn’t put it into words.

Once at a gig at the Warfield where he was going to sit-in, they gave Bobby and me a shared dressing room. We got to talking and he was so humble. He said, “I can’t really do lead guitar playing, but I can hang in there with the rhythm thing.” What I wanted to say back to him was: I’ve been to Kingston Mines in Chicago at 3am when the guitar playing is steeped in the most heartfelt all-American presence, and you, Bobby, are the best. You have no idea how good you are.

I always loved his singing and over the years his voice only got richer and more impassioned. Whether in rehearsals or at shows, I was constantly floored by his focus and his ability to tell a story with his singing. The last time I saw him sing, at Sphere, it felt more powerful and soulful than ever.

As a friend, he could be surprising. That signature straight face often delivered the driest, funniest wit, and his stoic aura would suddenly bloom into hugs and smirks.

One time, Bobby took me for a drive to his beach house, taking switchbacks at 60 miles an hour. He cooked a delicious vegan dinner and we listened to music through his all-analog tube hi-fi and he talked me through meditations, workouts, his runs, and the way he was overdubbing for his next album on a portable rig, no engineer needed.

I always felt a certain kinship — we were both the youngest in our bands (by a tiny bit), and sometimes the ones still going out after a show, acting like we never grew up. The soul and sense of adventure he put into his life and his music were fiercely inspirational to me. I don’t think many people are on that level.

I played with him at an inaugural ball in DC in 2007 where they had a seven-foot-long cake that was a replica of the Capitol building. I dared Bobby to take a bite out of the Capitol dome without his hands and with zero hesitation, he bent over and ate the dome off. I wish I were half that fearless.

Seeing him age so gracefully, with such attention to body, mind, heart and soul, it felt like he had a couple more good decades in him. Less than a year ago, my daughter and I spent time with Bobby and much of his family. The biggest takeaway was how amazing their scene was – Bobby and Natascha were always incredibly loving together and the rest of them were just basking in life as a family.

They will miss him so much. My heart goes out to them. I will miss him so much, too.

Micah Nelson: 

Bobby to me was like an imaginary character from some ancient cartoon, both fictional and hyper-real, a mystical song wizard, chiseled into reality rock…. ageless, like clouds or music or mountains… i learned a lot about music by playing along to Grateful Dead records, studying his unique rhythm playing… It was always a memorable experience whenever he would pop in to jam….Here we are nerding out about something (music probably) backstage at the Fillmore West a couple years ago before one of those jams.. we will all miss yu, Bob… seeya up the road… 🌀

The String Cheese Incident: 

We are so deeply saddened to hear about the passing of the great Bob Weir. His impact on music and our band is immeasurable.

We first got to share a stage with him in the late 90’s, and have had the honor several times since. Every time was magical. His presence was singular and deeply resonant.

The last time we played together was at Hulaween right after Phil had passed, and right before we stepped on stage, he led us in with – “Well boys, let’s ring the bells for Phil!”

Bobby was a gem of a human and a true original as a musician. He changed the course of music and his legacy will live on forever. We will continue to ring those bells loud and proud for him.

Thank you Bobby ♥️🌹⚡💀

Dark Star Orchestra:

Bobby Weir 🌹 There was no one like you. 🥹

Your unique approach and kind spirit guided so many of us for so many years. We are truly forever grateful. For all the music and for all the times we got to share on stage with you from 2002 – 2022. Hear from members of Dark Star Orchestra in their own words…

Rob Eaton: “It took me a minute to process the passing of Bob Weir before I could put words to paper. To say that Bob was a huge part of my life would be a drastic understatement. Even before I knew the man, his music and his vision of how to play the guitar resonated with me. He was a true visionary. I used to call it Lead/Rhythm. The profound sadness I feel is all part of the process. I learned long ago that death is hardest on the living. Bob’s influence and music will live on for generations. I’m so thankful for the time I spent with him on and off stage. His place in rock and roll history will never fade away. May the four winds blow him safely home. Rest in peace my friend…. Rob Eaton”

Jeff Mattson: “Bob was a major influence on my guitar playing and music along side Jerry of course. But Bob’s style was in such contrast and complimentary to Jerry’s, it taught me a whole different approach-invaluable lessons. He wrote such wonderful songs, too. Songs that I’ve played thousands of times and never tire of. He was always kind and generous when I had the opportunity to play with Bob-experiences I’ll treasure forever. The first time we played together at the old Sweetwater in Mill Valley, I distinctly remember singing the Jack Straw harmonies with Bob and Donna Jean and thinking life couldn’t get any cooler than this! I’m sure going to miss Bob and I will continue to do all I can to see his music and all the Dead’s music lives on.”

Goose:

From our very first Playing in the Sand to every moment that followed, it’s hard to put into words what your presence has meant to us. You didn’t just open a door for us, you welcomed us into a lineage, a spirit, and a way of approaching music that is rooted in freedom, trust, and deep respect for the song.

Standing onstage with you was never just about collaboration. It was about connection. About listening. About learning what it really means to show up for the music. To let it lead and reminding us that this isn’t about ego or generations or genre, it’s about honesty, curiosity, and the endless conversation that music allows us to have with one another.

Thank you for your generosity, your trust and the lessons you taught us without ever needing to say them out loud. And most of all, thank you for the music, the music that continues to guide us, challenge us, and remind us why we fell in love with this in the first place.

We are endlessly grateful to walk even a small part of this path alongside you.

Thank you Bobby and may you Rest in Peace. Our thoughts are with your family and all who loved you.

LP Giobbi:

No band has had a greater emotional or musical influence on me than Grateful Dead—and I know I’m far from alone in that. Their music was woven into my life before I was born. It helped me understand where I come from and gave me a deep connection to my family—one that will fuel me for more than a lifetime. Whenever I meet the children of Deadheads, there’s an immediate sense of recognition, as if we’re from the same tribe.

A few years ago, while playing their festival in Mexico, I was given the rare opportunity to introduce my parents to Bob Weir during a set break. I hesitated—aware that this was someone who had spent nearly six decades immersed in one of the most devoted fanbases in the world. Even with permission, I wondered if it was right to interrupt his quiet moment. Selfishly, the chance to introduce my favorite people in the world to their hero ultimately outweighed everything else.

I said: “Bob, these are my parents—the original Deadheads who raised us with the love and ethos of your music.” My mom added, “I just want to thank you for all the years of joy you brought my family.”

He stopped. He took my mom’s hands in his, looked her directly in the eyes, dropped in, placed her hand over his heart, and said, “The pleasure is all mine.” He was fully present holding that moment with my dad and her as if they were the only three people in the room. I have rarely witnessed such reverence for a shared human exchange.

I walked away profoundly inspired, knowing that is not only the kind of artist I want to be, but the kind of human I hope to become.

Earlier that day, as we walked onto the festival grounds, I overheard my mom say to my dad, “Honey, we’re home.”

What an extraordinary gift you gave people. ❤️

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Scroll down to Weir’s friends and collaborators’ reflections and tributes to the late cowboy of the cosmos. Click this link to view Mike Gordon’s response.