PHISH : CODA

Ya know – it’s gonna be a whole lot easier for me to write this once than to repeat the story to each of my crack-monkey friends, so here’s my unofficial review of the last Phish show. It's kinda long, but whatevah.

If you don’t know, this past weekend, Phish performed their (supposedly) last ever show at a two day festival in Vermont’s rural Northeast Kingdom. This is about as East Bumfuck as Vermont can get…about 30 miles South of the Canadian border.

Now my friends and I used to do the Phish thing when we were in high school and early college. This was from about 1989 to about 1993…we used to Phish-out in the smaller venues of the Northeast and come back saying things like “Yo, we went to Phish last night and we all smoked WEED, man! It was sooo cool.” And ya know what? It was pretty damn cool.

But that was then. I actually hadn’t been to a Phish show in ten years when my buddy Dan from Boston called me up and talked me into going. I was kinda skeptical at first…but eventually reckoned that I couldn’t go too wrong with a two day camp-out in one of the most beautiful parts of the country and 70,000 other funked-out fooligans.

I think the best way to break it down would be with one of those “timelines” of the variety that you used to make in junior high school when you needed to present the history of the French Revolution. I think it’ll work better here than a diorama or a mobile, so here goes:

Saturday, 1 AM: A car loaded full of Dan, Dan’s Girlfriend, me, and 5 cases of Budweiser leaves Boston.

Saturday, 4:30 AM: After 3.5 hours of smooth sailing, we hit a line of traffic on the interstate that is at a complete standstill. We are now 30 miles from the concert venue, and there are people at the side of the highway drinking beer, playing hackeysack, and selling everything from glass pipes to jello shots.

Saturday, 5:30 AM: We have surmised that the concert venue gate has been closed all night due to torrential rain, insane mudpits, and the stage falling into the mud. Budweisers are tasting mighty good.

Saturday, 8 AM: We get a message over the radio to turn around and go home since there is nowhere to put cars inside the venue! Somewhere between dumbfounded and heartbroken, we decide that the best thing to do is to cook up some eggs and sausages at the side of the highway.

Saturday, 8:45 AM: I’m standing at the side of the interstate chowing a mouth full of scrambled eggs. A seventeen year old chick from New Jersey walks up, puts her arm around me and says “I’ll do ANYTHING for your ticket, hottie!” I stare back at her, and a piece of egg falls out of my mouth.

Saturday, 11:00 AM: We’ve driven a bit South now, and there are still thousands of eager Phish fans running around town trying to figure out what the hell to do. Over 4,000 kids have already abandoned their cars at the side of the interstate and are hiking in the 15 miles to the show. I’m feeling pretty fucking inspired by people’s determination, but my friends are getting a little antsy about the idea of getting to work on Monday. A guy with one arm walks up and introduces himself: “Hey guys, my name’s Gator. I know the back way to the show and I can take you there for $20. You in?” Gator’s got a truck full of dreadheads and tie-dye shirts and he’s ready to pop. I grab my backpack and a 12 pack, say goodbye to my friends, and jump in the truck.

Saturday, 3:30 PM: After hitching 4 rides, hiking 5 miles, drinking 8 beers, and making a whole shitload of crazy new friends, I’m inside the venue setting up my tent on my very own patch of mud.

Saturday, 7 PM – Monday Noon: The show is mayhem. Phish RIPS three sets each night…people party their faces off…it takes 45 minutes to cross the mud when you need to take a leak…people try to sell me things I understand like “doses” and “ecstasy”….people also try to sell me things I can only wonder about like “hubbahs,” “spinners,” and “fruity pebbles.” All I know is what I heard: “Hubbahs are the perfect thing right after you peak from a fruity pebble, but yo mang I never get high on my own supply…”

And the music? Phish is a very context-specific experience. If you’ve heard their studio recordings, you rightly won’t be impressed. But if you see them live, and you appreciate jamming, precise musicianship, nerdy white-boy humor, and a manic carnival atmosphere, then you just might be in heaven. 70,000 people don’t jump into a mudpit in rural Vermont for nuthin. There was a bit of emotion going on at the show…but the band did a good job of not getting too cheesy about it. They allowed themselves some butt-bumping with their parents on stage, and the ritualized passing of a trampoline into the audience. Most cool was to hear their music belted out in this great green countryside, since a lot of it was originally written by the lead guitarist in his unheated cabin just a few miles away. I gotta say, there were some sublime musical moments. =)

Monday Noon: I begin the attempt to get my ass back to Boston. After wrapping myself in black plastic and hiking about 4 miles in the pouring rain, I decided to make a cardboard sign that reads “BOSTON. Will share gas $$.” I front the sign for about 10 minutes, and quickly realize that I don’t want to be that jackass with a fucking “BOSTON” sign. I hook up with some locals, hitch a ride to the bus station, and take the three buses I need to get back to beantown.

Monday, 8:30 PM: I’m sitting at the kitchen table with my mom, telling her that I had a very nice time at the Phish concert, and that it was just like that time we went to Tanglewood as a family to see the symphony…

So that’s it kids, Phish is done! Their music aint for everyone, but they’re insanely tight and insanely creative. They’ve also created a cultural phenomenon that has touched a lot of people and won’t soon be forgotten. You should go out to ye olde internet and give their music a listen….it won’t sound quite as good as it does when you're in rural vermont with a butt-crack full of mud, but it’s still worth a peep.

That’s all from me for now! G’night, -DK.

Posted by dk at August 19, 2004 08:00 AM