Tag: 2017

A Bite At The Donut

A Bite At The Donut

As fans of this band called Phish we have a penchant for the extreme, yearning always for the peak experience and living our lives on the margins of hyperbole. The many years spent chasing IT, never knowing if tonight will be the show when it all comes together and the band and crowd flow as one have shaped how we experience this band and how we interact with each other as a result. Discussion and critique of, well, every single little aspect of our scene can and does get quite heated as one would expect when sharing and comparing one of the more personally emotional and potentially transformational live music experiences one could hope to be a part of. And considering that each of us brings our own past experiences (and current, um, “situations”) into the mix, to say that opinions can be varied about this subjective artform is putting it mildly. This range of experience becomes even more evident once you start looking at particular eras, years, or even tours. In all the many places one can go to discuss Phish on the internet and beyond there simply is no such thing as consensus about what “the best” even means. To me, that is one of the things that makes Phish even more appealing and what keeps the conversation about their career interesting. It also brings me to the point of attempting to write these thoughts out on sandpaper.

Phish and its fandom is a community rooted in rituals and traditions that range to include everything from how we react to musical cues to the coded references we share in identifying the like-minded amongst the normals and all points in between. One such ritual is the (hopefully more than) annual tradition of scouring the rumor mill, waiting eagerly for new show dates to drop, and then speculating broadly about what tour stop will be the one to hit to catch that heater or maybe finally get that bustout you’ve been chasing. Living here in the future of immediate access to information we have this all pretty well figured out to the point that there are charts telling us the most likely day tour dates will drop and websites devoted to aggregating any hints of what might be coming. For some endeavors this might take away from the allure of it all, turning recreation into the processing of information and removing the surprise of the unknown. But as we well know, that is not the case with Phish where even if we think we know what to expect we tend to end up getting the surprise anyway. This has played out so many times over the years that at this point the unexpected IS the expectation. There are so man examples to point to that it almost becomes redundant or at the least almost laughable. Think of all of the festivals, New Year’s Runs, Halloween shows, and more where you thought you knew what was going to happen – heck, often they told you exactly what they were going to do – and it STILL blew away anything you thought you would experience. That’s just life as a fan of Phish.

So after hearing the rumors and doing the dance we always do, when Phish announced their plans for Summer Tour that year on January 31st, 2017 we all looked at the announcement, mapped out the dates in our head, and then began trying to figure out just what the heck this “Baker’s Dozen” thing was going to be all about. This was unprecedented for Phish who has always routed tours snake-like across the country or at least a region. But this? This was five cities and a shorter run of just 21 shows if you included the now traditional Dick’s Run over Labor Day Weekend. And thirteen shows in one venue? Was the band getting lazy? Bored? Old??? What exactly were they up to with this weird tour setup? You can find all sorts of speculative posts and threads about it all with a pretty cursory internet search in case you forgot how crazy we all got back then. Heck, there are more long form essays on the topic of The Baker’s Dozen (both pre and post) than one could possibly want to read if you go looking. If nothing else, we are really good at discussing every single possible aspect of this band almost to the point of absurdity. It is kind of our thing.

Now, if we have learned anything over the course of these many years of cataloging and dissecting every single thing that this band does we know that those tour dates were just the beginning. Nothing is ever just to be taken at face value with Phish. They have made a career out of the ol’ adage “never trust a prankster” yet time and again we fall for their (now increasingly dad joke tinged) gags. Pretty quickly people started looking to decipher what this tour would become as after that first run of obviously-meant-to-be warm up shows the thirteen shows at MSG were broken up into smaller groupings smaller runs with three show weekends and midweek pairs in between. The name implied something was afoot too. Yes, a baker’s dozen is thirteen but there was no way that would be the extent of the reference. Further, the logo for the shows had a distinct look and feel which with the benefit of hindsight was clearly made to look like an old donut shop’s neon sign. Pretty good packaging to start our conversations…

But I’m getting too far ahead of myself.

Before we got to New York there were five shows to get our feet wet and immerse ourselves into this unfolding tour. What hints would these early shows give us about the prevailing theme of the summer and the Baker’s Dozen? Would we be getting new material? What new instrumentation tricks had the band added to their arsenal in the offseason? Which band was going to show up this tour, the one that slayed everything in sight in 2015 or the one that didn’t quite rise to that level in 2016? To say that there was a growing level of concern about where this band was headed following a relatively lackluster Summer Tour and most of the Fall Tour as well that previous year is putting it mildly. Some of that died down a bit with a well regarded NYE Run and the now almost traditional Mexico shows in mid January but everyone seemed to have a hot take on whether this extended residency meant the end for our touring warriors and the begin of the long slow decline into mediocratic irrelevancy. The speculation and anticipation is always part of the fun with trying to predict what we will inevitably get wrong (and be so happy that we did) but this felt like a new level of unknowing. Perhaps the closest recent example to point to was the festival location and cover album reveal ahead of Festival 8 for the Halloween Run in 2009 as even though the band was “back” then we didn’t know yet whether The Return was sustainable as the band we had come to know and love in earlier eras. But this felt like a longer play (con?), something that was going to have more import, more impact on the music and everything that surrounded it. We often talk about how the extended visits to a venue can be a good or bad thing for the playing on a particular night (i.e. the possibility of the band falling into a familiar pattern of how the show is approached and what types of songs are played on a Friday vs Saturday vs Sunday etc) so this was new territory since those traditional stereotypes may not come to bear. Or would they?

Throughout Phish’s history if you look at the tours and years that generally get the most praise from the fanbase (not everyone of course because we can never ever have any kind of consensus) there tends to be an event or a purpose that pushes them to the next level. Summer 2015 was influenced by Trey’s dedication earlier in the year to learning and practicing the Grateful Dead songbook in advance of participating in the Fare Thee Well shows. 1997 (and beyond) was influenced by the band learning and absorbing the polyrhythmic funk ahead of playing the Talking Heads’ Remain In Light album on the Fall 1996 tour. 1999 was pushed forward by Trey and Page practicing for and being a part of the Phil & Phriends shows at the Warfield earlier in the year (and more specifically Trey being pushed forward by playing with Steve Kimock for those). Spring 1993 was changed by Page finally being able to bring the baby grand piano on tour. Fall 1995 and 1996 saw the conscious move by Trey to get out of the way to give the rest of the band more space to “lead” when he added the mini-kit to his repertoire. The examples go on and on. This is far from an exhaustive list. But the point is that whenever Phish has purpose, an event that gives them a new means of approaching their craft or maybe just an excuse to refocus it tends to end up benefitting us all with the music they produce as a result. Now I’m not saying we identified this as being the case in advance. Far from it, more likely. No, as I recall it a lot of the speculation was about how they would handle playing the same venue so many nights and what that meant for song choices and which shows would be the ones to hit to try to avoid the potential clunker, limit exposure to repeats, and on and on. Again, we are really good at going well beyond in overanalyzing our favorite band. But even still, from the first notes of that first night in Chicago people were trying to figure out how this was all going to go down.

Another thing to consider in looking at how that Summer evolved is that unlike some years in the current era various members of the band had been on the road with side projects touring, namely Mike with his band for a couple of festival dates (Summer Camp and High Sierra), and Trey for a variety of dates including acoustic solo shows in March and his full band into June. Follow that with the likely full band practices that led up to tour and you have a motivated, well oiled machine hitting the line running as they started up instead of one working it out on stage with everyone watching. That is on display from the start on 07.14.2017 from Northerly Island where even that first song choice speaks to the knowing recognition by the band of things to come. Seriously, what other band could you imagine beginning Summer Tour with a dripping psychedelic instrumental like What’s The Use? besides Phish? In retrospect you can hear the seeds of what would become the “Baker’s Dozen Sound” from the start, particularly in the Wolfman’s and Everything’s Right (its Phish debut) jams that carry the frame. This becomes even more apparent with the NMINML that opens the second set which has a forward looking jam that could easily be mistaken for a middle night throwdown from the Dozen several shows later but the point is fully made with the jammed (yes, jammed) Your Pet Cat->Golden Age->Your Pet Cat that bleeds into the third debut of the night, Leaves, which we all came to fully love here in our pandemic lives with its appearance on Sigma Oasis. Looking back now at this first weekend of the tour there is a lot of table setting going on be it in debuting new songs, stretching out some classic vehicles and non-traditional ones as well, busting out a few songs for the first time in a while, and generally playing around with the normal structure of setlist construction. But those were mere hints of how it would fully blossom.

The remaining two shows ahead of getting to New York also provided several indications of everything Phish had planned, not the least of which being a Tuesday and Wednesday pairing between the weekends. Both were longed after returns to cities once on the normal touring routes with Dayton being the first time back there since a pretty famous show on 12.07.1997 and Pittsburgh being an even longer return from the last one on 10.18.1996. The pattern of debuts each night continued (following the total of 6 over three shows in Chicago) as each night saw two apiece. Bustouts and not-quite-typical setlist placement were also to be found but the thing that makes these two shows even more telling is the level of connected jamming the band performs whenever they seemingly decided to do so. The second set in Dayton is perhaps one of the best overall sets of the year, flowing out as one of the “all killer no filler” affairs we can’t get enough of. Even further, there appears to be a conscious intent by the band to not stick to the norm as they play around with jamming styles to the extent that Disease gets a Shipwreck section (amongst other motifs), Ghost has some Disease jam to it, and the surprise vehicle of the set Wombat goes to Ghost-y places. Pittsburgh furthers this even more when the first set ending Prince Caspian goes big, resulting in what many consider to be one of the best jams of the entire year. With these first five shows out of the way, expectations were ramped up and folks were ready to get to New York to get this show off the road.

The midweek tour stops that preceded the arrival to New York were highly anticipated in their own rights as this would be the first time in almost twenty years that they would return to Dayton, OH (and I think we all know how highly regarded that last visit on 12.07.1997 was…) and Pittsburgh, PA after an even longer gap (10.18.1996 at the Civic Arena). Yes, there had been visits to other venues in nearby towns in the intervening years but these were indoor shows in the summer which always gets people pumped up. Could these end up being the type of letdown that often comes with inflated expectations? Sure. But that’s not what we got. Instead Phish threw down an absolutely stellar show from front to back in Dayton with two more debuts (Tuesday which of course makes sense for a Tuesday show and the Mike tune Crazy Sometimes) a big crunchy first set Free, and then a second frame of the kind that the kidz will call “all killer no filler”. If there were any doubts about where Phish was in their playing at the start of that set I’d say they were put well to rest perhaps even before they segued out of that big Disease jam into MITM. In classic Phishy form they even played around with the jamming styles as the Disease gets a Shipwreck section (amongst other motifs), Ghost has a bit of a Disease jam, and the surprise vehicle of the set Wombat gets some of the Ghost feel. There are times when the Coil encore is earned and this was one of those sets. And then as is if to point out that there was no need to worry about them losing steam, the Pittsburgh show carries it forward with more debuts (Marissa and Rise/Come Together), a big jammed bustout (380 shows) for Mr. Completely, and one of the most surprising jams of the entire year in the first set closing Prince Caspian. Towards the end of this show you can kind of hear them ‘pull up’ a bit so as to perhaps not spill the beans too much but we are still left with a good taste and a healthy dose of added anticipation for the coming shows. With these shows in the bag it was time to head east and double down on the speculation for what was to come.

In those few days of travel and getting to New York the discussion focused fully onto the theme of the Baker’s Dozen and trying to decipher what clues we knew. There were definitely some overt hints out there about what might be going on with this Baker’s Dozen thing as those who had ordered the full set of show tickets through mail order received a custom pink ‘donut box’ with each ticket being a differently decorated donut design. Then in Pittsburgh the official show poster was able to be cut and folded into another box (if you could get yourself to do that to a poster you had spent time and money procuring…). I’m sure there were other easy signs to be found but here a few years later my memory of all that pales a bit so let me know what you recall from back then. Heck, I distinctly recall walking out of MSG at the end of the New Year’s show on 12.31.2016 with venue staff saying “we’ll see you this summer!” But even with that we still didn’t *really* know what that meant for the shows themselves. All that changed when the doors opened on the first night and in conjunction with the announced theme of Coconut the band handed out free donuts to early entrants (made by the awesome Federal Donuts out of Philadelphia). That was the first true moment of understanding that, yes, this was not going to be an ordinary run of shows. And when the band took the stage, it all started to come together.

By now we have all experienced the music of the Baker’s Dozen by a variety of means and it is likely that several of the shows have gone into your personal regular listening rotation. These shows have become a modern touchpoint for fans, acting as something of a line of demarcation in the sense of you either were a fan before and went or these shows were your entry point and now you are on the bus with the rest of us. As I’ve mentioned there will always be detractors or those who will try to make comparisons in the music or the experience to try to diminish the import of this unparalleled run but that’s just noise. The reality is that the Baker’s Dozen came at the perfect time for both the fans AND the band. The current era of Phish up to that point had been marked by a veritable roller coaster of peaks and valleys in the music. Once we got past the initial glow and buzz of having our band playing concerts again we settled into this pattern of vacillating between “oh wow they are really BACK!” and “um… this is not the band I grew up with anymore” and all points in between. That on its own is fine and normal but in looking at just how precipitous the perceived drop is from how strong they were playing throughout 2015 to where things got in 2016 many were concerned that this was the start of The Decline. This is not meant to throw salt on the good times everyone had at shows in 2016. I enjoyed the ones I hit including having a fantastic time for the NYE Run that year but that doesn’t mean I can’t look at the overall arc of that year and the playing they displayed to put it into its proper context.

This really just further serves the greater point of what the Baker’s Dozen became. To put it in the parlance of the season, these shows (and really the entire summer tour including the Dick’s Run later on) represent the band’s ability to find renewed connection with their music and fans, constantly challenging themselves to not do the easy thing over and over. It is the thing that keeps us coming back and perhaps the greatest talent this band has if you can convince yourself that anything could be more important than their musicianship. Many others have asked the question but it deserves to be asked again: How many bands have not just the ability but the desire to do something as ambitious as the Baker’s Dozen AND for that to happen so far into their career? You could probably argue that it only *could* happen because of the stature and experience that all those years of building their fanbase afforded. More than thirty years of band and fans all saying “yes, and?” provides a great deal of confidence in taking the risk of trying to pull it off. But the opportunity is just the beginning for success comes with execution. And holy crap did they execute!

This was a “gag” well beyond anything we had ever seen with Phish – and that is saying a lot considering everything we have gotten from this band. We are lucky to follow a band that thrives on never wanting to do the same thing twice and always looking for a new means by which they can challenge themselves to become better artists. You could perhaps say that a younger version of this band would’ve played bigger, more awe inspiring jams during these shows but I’d counter that I’m not convinced they could have pulled it off in the way that they did. The artful and clever pairing using the meta joke about donuts (lord knows how much we have literally bought into the donut thing over the years) combined with thematic relevance to the music is the foundation upon which each night built the anticipation, joy, and humor of the endeavor. And from that foundation Phish launched upwards with their playing, seeming to outdo themselves with each set they performed.

Thirteen shows. Twenty-six sets. Two hundred and thirty-seven songs played with no repeats. Debuts that were both topical and relevant. Explorations into the depths of the song catalog that brought songs back from obscurity or allowed for new approaches to their performance. Direct and meaningful connection with a hyper dedicated fanbase. Deep jamming and a thematic connectivity in the playing. But perhaps most of all jokes. Oh so many jokes.

The Baker’s Dozen began as another opportunity for Phish to play out an elaborate joke both for and at the expense of the fans (as always). From the beginning a lot of the allure of becoming captivated by Phish was rooted in being “in on the joke”. What the Baker’s Dozen became was an opportunity for the joke to become more than just a means to a punchline. It became The Event, the thing to be sought after. On the first night of The Dozen fans entering the arena early were greeted with free, fresh donuts matching the night’s announced theme of Coconut provided by Federal Donuts. The opener that night (the debut of Shake Your Coconuts by Junior Senior) and the closer (Coconut by Harry Nilsson) nudged us like a funny uncle after he tells another eye roller of a joke at Thanksgiving with their obvious reference as well. These set the table and we all happily sat down to eat up as much of it as we could. And over the course of the twelve nights that followed everyone did whatever they could to keep the joke going. By the time the lights dropped for the second night we had already started making calls for songs like Strawberry Letter 23 (the fantastic Shuggie Otis song debuted on Strawberry night which thankfully has stayed somewhat in rotation) and Strawberry Fields Forever (which really needs to be done again because that a cappella version is fantastic). Immediately post show we started watching to see what the next night’s theme would be to begin theorizing about what was coming. The anticipation and excitement that comes with every Phish show was pushed to even greater heights because we had no baseline, no trend or experience to lean on to keep us grounded. It was like the night before Christmas every time and we loved it.

And all along it wasn’t just the joke that mattered. The music was becoming more layered, more engaging. The band was clearly enjoying every second of this experience which was apparent with every song they played. To pull off something as grand as this took more planning and practice than I expect we as fans will ever know except in listening back to these shows and reveling in the music they made. Even though each show had a different theme and the songs played differed there is a cohesiveness to this music, a familiar sound that wasn’t there before these shows. When one of the jams from these shows comes on you just know it is from the Baker’s Dozen. Nothing feels rushed. Just as the band was growing more and more comfortable with their surroundings each night so were weTo borrow from another song covered (on Lemon Night), everything is in its right place. Considering all that went down, it had to be.

Just like everything else eventually it had to end. The spectacle and fanfare of the two weeks leading up to that final weekend could have overwhelmed the moment but thankfully they did not. Instead what I saw was gratitude and acknowledgement that none of IT could have happened in the way that it did without full commitment by the band, crew, staff, and fans alike. Those last few shows were a celebration of that, a culmination of all of the work put in, and a collective opportunity to express gratitude for how it came together. Some may consider it another throwaway joke but think about the banter between Fish and Trey after the Sunshine Of Your Feeling medley on Boston Cream night. This elaborate thing was essentially done to pay off a joke they had thought up more than twenty years prior. In true Phish fashion they went well beyond that punchline, of course. But then (also as they always do) they thanked us. They gave us all of this, the community, the entertainment, and most importantly the music. But still they came to the stage for the encore that last night and made us all feel that we were part of IT all. As the banner commemorating The Baker’s Dozen was unveiled it was clear that this was Phish’s achievement but at some level we were being celebrated too. The Baker’s Dozen renewed that connection between the band and we fans. But perhaps even more importantly they showed us that this band, its music, and our community were nowhere near done. The energy and inspiration that blossomed in these shows carried forward through the rest of the year and into 2018, a year many point to as one of the high points of the current era for playing by the band. But most importantly this experience underscored the true meaning of why we all can never get enough of IT which Willie said best and Phish used to say goodbye on that final night: “The life I love is making music with my friends.”

An Overly Deep Dive into the History and Development of ‘McGrupp and The Watchful Hosemasters’ OR “How I Try to Get More McGrupp Jams Put on PJJ”

Every once in a while it is fun to take a song and really go deep with it, listening to every version that Phish has ever performed in order. Some may find this type of exercise pointless, tiring, ridiculous, boring, or even insane (or more probably a combination of all of the above and more)  but to me it offers a great way to track the development and progression of a song over the years as the band has worked through it and altered its course. There are some songs where this can get old pretty fast, particularly when the variation comes only in the few bars of Type I improv that come out of an otherwise standard performance for the tune but in many cases the song as debuted once upon a time has changed significantly over the course of time, sometimes adding or removing parts and other times becoming something entirely new along the way. One song that has had a fairly intriguing evolution (well, to me at least) is McGrupp And The Watchful Hosemasters (for the sake of brevity following this reference the song will be shown by its shorthand fan name ‘McGrupp‘), a song with a long history, connection to the Gamehendge saga, and just enough performances to make this little exercise worthwhile without becoming tedious.

 

In full disclosure, I will admit that some of my motivation in going down this path was in looking for the song on the wonderful resource that is www.phishjustjams.com I was shocked to discover they had only picked out a minuscule THREE performances of the song for inclusion in the jam files. Now, while the song is definitely not a big, open-jammed juggernaut I maintain that that list needs to be expanded a bit even if they don’t agree (hi, Verno!) with all that I write about the song’s jam and its 114 known performances, not to mention the four versions of the song as Skippy The Wonder Mouse (hereafter referred to as “Skippy”) before the name change and lyrical overwrite. Part of the complication here stems from the PJJ mission statement apparently forbids inclusion of anything pre 1993 and while I respect that and the reasoning behind it I will absolutely be focusing a lot on the progressions made with McGrupp in the years prior to that if for no other reason than 63 of the 114 versions of the song (plus those 4 Skippys!) occurred prior to 1993. To ignore all of that here would kind of defeat the purpose and really conflict my obsessive nature, people.

 

So where to start. Well, the first thing you should do is check out the Song History on phish.net which goes into a lot of the detail about how the song came to be (and check the brief Skippy Song History too since you are visiting .net). You might also want to take a gander at the Jamchart for the song as others have gone down this road before in their own way so if you find my nerdiness to be lacking check out someone else’s! Really cannot say enough about how privileged we are to have phish.net and other resources to help feed these obsessions of ours. Support them however you can!

 

With all of that out of the way let’s dive in! Fair warning, as I haven’t written much of late you can probably expect this one to be lengthy. I have some pent up prose to use here, people.

Continue reading “An Overly Deep Dive into the History and Development of ‘McGrupp and The Watchful Hosemasters’ OR “How I Try to Get More McGrupp Jams Put on PJJ”” →

Interpretations on 12.31.2016, Set III

I’d like to step aside from the Venue Project for a minute to get some of the innumerable thoughts down that have been swimming through my head since walking out of Madison Square Garden after the NYE show a couple of days ago. I have debated with myself about whether I should post this because, well, it could be taken in a few different ways depending on your approach and it definitely opens me up to the type of criticism that tends to divide our scene rather than bring it together. But you know what? I don’t care. If nothing else I want to flush this stuff out so that I can process it, take what I need from it, and move forward. Not sharing that seems to me to be the wrong way to go about starting that course of action.

 

Before I start this I feel like I should make a few disclaimers. First and foremost, I am not musically trained, can barely play an instrument, and do not have the vocabulary to speak to the specifics of the music that Phish plays. I am but a simple fan who has spent countless hours listening to this band and following them around the country to the extent that it is as much a part of my life as anything else I hold dear. This passion is why I write about the band and even without the formal knowledge that would undoubtedly make my posts more worthwhile I am comfortable with where I am in the stratosphere of our scene. What I do have is a background in liberal arts having read, dissected, discussed, and argued many of the great works of Western literature and art with people much more intelligent than I could ever pretend to be. This background and my obsessively analytical way of approaching my takes on Phish are my utility belt and crutch at the same time but at the very least I think that provides a bit of context about how I am looking at the Gag that Phish performed this past New Year’s Eve.

 

Unlike most of my posts, this will not be a full show/run deep dive through the minutiae of the show(s) but instead some thoughts on how I personally interpreted the art that Phish created for us with the spectacle of Petrichor and the set that unfolded in its wake. I am also not looking to turn this into a lit crit piece so outside of quoting some Phish lyrical content I won’t be trying to relate this to any Big Themes in the world of art and literature. Heck, I’m not even going to touch on the visual reference points that to me seem almost obvious (looking at you, Rene Magritte and Giuseppe Maiorana, amongst others…). I’m already making some fairly large leaps and assumptions so no need to dig a deeper hole for those who might deride this.

 

One of the things I often say about Phish shows is that ‘we all attend the same concert but experience a different show’. I state this again here to drive home the point that I have no insider information and no expectation that my words and thoughts on the matter hold any more weight or truth than the perspective of someone else. As much as we try to let go of it all, each time we see the band we bring everything in our lives leading up to that moment with us. It is unavoidable. And at a show our individual experience is shaped by the moments we have with the music, the people around us, and everything else that carves out the memories that we take away from being in that place at that time. All of that contributes to how we engage with the experience and influences our personal reactions to what occurred (or didn’t depending on what set of expectations one has). What may be a life-changing, mind-expanding journey for me might be the worst show ever for someone else and vice versa with many thousand varied experiences falling somewhere in between or around those poles. For me, the truth to be found in seeing shows is a personal one and not something universal that will apply to those around me. Heck, it might not even apply to the folks you shared the experience with directly in the moment. In my mind, that makes it all the more interesting to discuss since by doing so we can learn more about the experience from another perspective.

 

I know that this may simply be a personal reflection that doesn’t resonate with anyone else and reflects only the journey I traveled that night. It is not meant to be seen as anything but that. If you want to read such a thing, please be my guest. I am not looking for validation or hetty points or whatever. We all have times at shows where everything makes sense whether it be in the beauty of a Hood Jam or connecting through dance with a stranger or something else entirely. This is how the set unfolded for me. If it isn’t your bag, so be it.

 

I was lucky enough to be able to attend all four shows on this latest MSG run and experienced each night from the Floor taboot. That alone puts this run into memorable territory for me personally but even further I was sharing it with a bevy of long time and newer friends including my wife, her sister and boyfriend (who I also consider a dear friend), two of my oldest best friends (who are married), and one of my newer friends in Phish not to mention the numerous wonderful individuals I have been lucky enough to meet over the years at shows, on the internet, and in person who all contribute to this wonderful thing we all share. Each night seemed to build on the prior one with themes emerging as we went along including the a cappella openers, second set mashup jam fun, bustouts, and more. By the time we got to New Year’s Eve there was a palpable buzz of anticipation as everyone waited to find out what the band had in store for this year’s big finish to the year. If I wanted to I could probably scratch together a pretty loose argument for a theory on the theme for the entirety of the run but my main goal here is in approaching the Petrichor production (and to an extent the balance of the third set) as that is to me the most overt example of Trey and the rest of the band building an artistic theme from this run.

 

At the start of the third set the stage set up had been augmented not just by length as Trey discussed in setting up the wonderful walkabout by Page and Mike for Lawnboy in the first frame but also by adding a full percussionist’s rig as well as three mike stands for what was assuredly going to be a horn section. There may have been more added but that was about the extent of what was visible to us at the back of the floor. When the musicians all walked out on stage Phish was joined by the TAB horns (James Casey, Jennifer Hartswick, and Natalie Cressman) along with Andres Forero (percussionist, of Hamilton fame) and (unseen until later when Trey pointed him out) Jeff Tanski on keys and other “symphonic” sounds. As the band started into the quiet beginning of the orchestral piece the crowd listened intently, producing a pregnant silence not too dissimilar from the awe we all felt during the Magnaball WTU?. This was different though as the anticipation for how the gag would unfold was building as the band moved through the structured piece into the more upbeat phrasing that first introduces the horns.

 

If you watch the video (and I HIGHLY recommend that you do, many times over) you can see the incredible smile on Trey’s face as this thing that he has worked on for so long is finally unfolding. That smile is evident throughout and really shows how happy Trey was to share this with all of us. They bounce into the first set of lyrics, introducing the main theme conceptually with the repeated phrase of “and the rain came down and washed it all away” as the crowd begins get into the groove being built. The song passes into the ‘pre-storm’ guitar-led segment and sixteen persons dressed in black suits with black bowler hats atop their heads and black masks shrouding their faces walk to the front of stage as Page plays the melodic interlude on the baby grand. In the moment my immediate thought was that these were the ‘no men’ referenced in the song No Man In No Man’s Land. As these ‘no men’ (that really works on many levels) form a line across the stage rain begins to fall, reflecting the lights and cascading as sheets onto the dancers, band, and rail riders alike. The dancers move with the music and take out black umbrellas, coming together to form one protected whole before separating with one dancer having taken off his mask at center stage. He then performs a series of tricks with umbrellas, juggling them and balancing one on his nose as the storm proceeds. He is playing in the rain without a care for the nuisance of being wet, something we all did as children (and that hopefully some of us still continue to do today).

 

The music shifts as Trey plays descending notes that seem to signal alarm and our lone known man is grabbed by the No Men who re-mask him, robbing him of his individuality and returning him to anonymity as one of the No Men grabs his umbrella and breaks it before throwing it aside. Another individual shows herself, flashing her brilliant red hair as she is tossed and accosted by the No Men, eventually being re-masked as well. A third No Man briefly shows his individuality but is quickly subsumed by the group and returned to the normalcy that they endeavor to maintain. The music here is building to the transition point where our next set of lyrics will come in and as this happens the dancers create a pyramid of uniformity around another one who has gone “individual”, flipping him upside down and shaking him before he escapes just as Trey sings the line “and the clouds will open and the seas will rise.” This individual then leads the No Men through a coordinated routine that includes each person “picking him/herself up by the collar” amongst other evocative moves (all while Trey sings and beams that wonderful smile behind them). After Trey sings the “when there’s no more future and no more past we’ll be on our way back home at last” lines the dancers slowly come back together at center stage but this time something is different. While the rain still falls, none of them is engaged in keeping the status quo but rather they are all distracted by a group of white/lit umbrellas that are slowly descending from the ceiling. As these new umbrellas come to rest just above the outstretched hands of the No Men they all shed their masks to reveal their individuality.

 

The band is playing the hopeful main theme now as the white umbrellas rise and fall into various patterns above the dancers. The band begins to sing the refrain “and the rain, and the rain came down” as the dancers leave the stage in a way not too dissimilar from how people passing on a busy city street would pass by each other, almost bothered by the nuisance of interaction. The umbrellas are moving through coordinated orientations, appearing almost as if they were jellyfish swimming and forming shapes such as an infinity symbol or a double helix with an array of colors and other lighting fills highlighting each one in turn as Trey takes the soaring lead and the rest of the band swells. At this point the rain is all but stopped, having accomplished its role of cleansing the No Men of their anonymity. As the song comes to its end the dancers return to the front of stage and we are nearing midnight Trey says “well, it is never too soon to get out of 2016 so…” and begins the countdown (a full 2-3 minutes early) to the expected Auld Lang Syne. The umbrellas are lit as a rainbow now and Trey says “aw, what the fuck!” laughingly acknowledging his early timing as they hit New Year’s and the ceiling (sky?) opens up and drops a massive deluge of balloons and other stuff upon us. It takes a second of recognition but most of the balloons are inflated cats and dogs such that it was literally raining cats and dogs on us. There are even cat/dog noises accompanying the deluge which also includes small foam raindrop-shaped stress ball thingies, confetti, big bouncy balloons, and so much more. By the time they finished up ALS the entire stage and floor area was overflowing such that we were up to our necks in cats, dogs, and whatnot. The No Men – though unmasked – oddly stand motionless with sullen faces but then Trey counts off the start to Suzy and they turn away from the crowd before throwing down their black suits and emerging in bright yellow outfits and with faces beaming, befitting the raucous abandon of the celebratory jam.

 

It is pure mayhem at this stage as they find spaces to dance and the band plays amidst the masses of balloons (with the various techs trying in vain to clear scene). Everyone is acting individually now with the dancers playing around and getting into the spirit of the old anthem about that free spirited gal no man can tame. The band jams along for a bit with the horns and added percussion adding that punch to the song that horns always do with Suzy. As it ends Trey never fully stops playing but starts in with the rhythm line for NMINML and we are off again into another dance party. The dancers and such have departed but the party ain’t over by a long shot. This song choice is very purposeful to me once you start to read into the lyrics:

how far have we fallen, how far can we go?
how far will we fall, if there’s nothing below
you stand on a rock, suspended in air
emblazoned with sunlight keenly aware
that we’ve broken free, something has changed
a tear in the fabric, some tiles rearranged

we are the no men in no man’s land
we are the no men in no man’s land
darkness the one thing we all understand
we are the no men in no man’s land
we are the no men in no man’s land

and the truth will rise above, and fiction fall beneath
although the lies may bite, the truth has all the teeth
you see us as a window, you’re happy that we’re here
exposed to all the elements, while inside all is clear

but if you hold a mirror, and you turn it to one side
the depth you see within at first, will find a place to hide
we are the no men in no man’s land

the loss of all motion, the absence of sound
when there’s no sun to circle around
we are the no men in no man’s land

Something has changed here. No longer are we under the weight of the storm that was 2016. In coming into the new year we are able to shed the “friction” and “lies” that dragged us all down which if you want to take as an overt political statement I’d be hard pressed to argue against. But even on a simpler level this song represents the move from conforming to being ourselves, understanding the darkness but not letting it define us.

 

Petrichor was the metaphor for that personal revelation and Suzy is the example of what freedom can look like (albeit under the guise of a person so different as to be seen as needing professional help). NMINML then punctuates the message of looking inward to become our best outward selves. But it doesn’t stop there. The next tune, Breath & Burning, is one that many probably audibly groaned to hear the band play in that spot but just listen to the lyrics and it fits the theme:

Breath and Burning
We are made of sand
Slowly turning
At the waves command
And what does it matter
If the nightmares all came true?
The black clouds that scattered across
The sky so there’s nothing left we can do
Let’s celebrate while the hurricane
Throws salt and water into the room
The canary died
The healer lied
The yellow fields disappeared too soon
Mid-air voltage blooms and grows
Unstoppable, it’s instant heat
And as sinners plea on bended knee
We’ll be dancing here for days
Breath and Burning
We are made of sand
Slowly turning At the waves command
And what does it matter
That the end’s in sight?
We’re not going gently
We’re gonna rage with Page at the dying of the light!
The sudden unexpected fate
Of sunken ships
Was our future path
Your string of beads did nothing to
Prepare for you what was sure to pass
Shadow wheels in shipping lanes
The angry winds blew straight from hell
And the tortoise pulls his head inside his shell
Breath and Burning
We are made of sand
Slowly turning
At the waves command
And what does it matter?
It’ll be over soon
Our heads on a platter
So lets spin in the light of the moon
We’ve still got the light of the moon
We’ll dance in the light of the moon
Breath and Burning
Breath and Burning
Breath and Burning
Breath and Burning

This song speaks to hope and not allowing the many negative outside factors alter who we are and how we act. At a certain point, you cannot change or influence those around you. But you can change how you approach your interactions with others and more importantly how you approach YOU. As cheesy as the line is, there is hope in the idea: “and what does it matter that the end’s in sight? we’re gonna rage with Page at the dying of the light.” When the shit hits the fan would you rather be complaining about the stench or making the best of a bad situation?

 

At this point I have probably lost most people. I get that and have to reinforce that this is the interpretation that I took from the show in the moment and upon reflection after the fact. Song choice and thematic intent are messy subjects when it comes to Phish because as I mentioned above we are all coming at this from vastly different sets of experience. It is more than likely that this is not the true intention of what Trey was looking to do when crafting this project. But I like to think that he’d be open to this type of investigation. Let’s get back to it. Don’t worry, I’m almost done…

 

After Breath & Burning the band counts off another song with a high groan potential for the fanbase. Tide Turns has always felt like more of a TAB type of tune to most and based on the performances of it and the music it offers I can easily see that argument being made. But here in the context of this set the lyrics take on a slightly different meaning than how I had originally read them when first hearing the song. I have been talking about not losing yourself in the anonymity of conformity in our culture which is mentioned in the first stanza and continued throughout the song:

When you’re lost in the darkness
And the lonliness cuts so deep
When every breath is suffereing
And you’re longing for sleep
You don’t have to be alone
I’ve still got a kind word to spare
I’ve still have an ear to listen
I’ve got time

I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
Yes I will
I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
Till the tide turns…

When the wolf is at your door
And the mirror holds your nightmare
There’s no need to hide your tears
If it’s too much for you to bear
You don’t have to be alone
I’ll still always be here for you
Together we can make it through
We’ve got time, yes we do

I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
Yes I will
I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
Till the tide turns…

You don’t have to be alone
I’ll still always be here for you
Together we can make it through
We’ve got time, yes we do

I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
Yes I will
I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
I’ll wait with you till the tide turns
Till the tide turns…

This is a song about not only finding yourself but of offering connection for those who need it. The message is clear. You do not have to be alone in all of this. Even as we are “slowly turning at the waves’ command” (from B&B) the narrator is offering to be there, offering hope to the individual in this personal struggle. This could apply to so many circumstances in our lives. How many of us have wanted to take that risky step into the unknown but were afraid to do so? How much easier was it to do such a thing when there was someone there to help you, support you, and guide you through that transition? In a sea of No Men we seek connection with individuals, something that our little community fosters but that is less prevalent in the wider world of our culture(s). Perhaps the message is not just to find the support you need but to be the one there to give it when you see the need in others as well because “together we can make it through.”

 

When they started up the next song, 555, along with really being excited that we’d get to hear this song with horns I found myself paying closer attention to the lyrics than I had before:

They’re tyin’ a blindfold cross my eyes
I rest my face down
Skidding on switchbacks near the sides
Gonna try to bust out

Get up, jump out, don’t wait, gotta get away
Hop off, roll down, spring up, live another day

Sprint on cobblestones past the tracks
They kept my money, and my water
Don’t wanna run ‘cuz I want it back
But I know I really ought to

If I don’t break away clean
I might stray from the scene
Make an escape when it arrives:
The 555

They bought my soul for a pile of cash
Everybody else got paid out
They’re closing in I gotta dash
I gotta find a way out

Hop off, roll down, spring up, live another day
Get up, jump out, don’t wait

If I don’t break away clean
I might stray from the scene
Make an escape when it arrives:
The 555

In our context this song speaks to the struggle of breaking free from “them” and weighing the frustration of being able to “break away clean” else one escapes/leaves this “scene” entirely. That is, we often find ourselves struggling to be individuals who still desire to be able fit into a group or community which can cause some to “get up, jump out, don’t wait, gotta get away, hop off, roll down, spring up, live another day” by removing themselves from participation in such community. We constantly push and pull between wanting to be individuals and wanting to be accepted within the greater whole.

 

Interestingly, the next song is not one I would have thought would fit this theme but once I took a closer look at the lyrics it fits perfectly after 555. Up through now we have seen the struggle to brush off the negativity of outside influences with the goal of allowing one to remain an individual followed by songs of hope and connection and then one about struggling with all of that. So when Ocelot started up I thought that perhaps the theme was complete only to find relevance in the words sung:

Ocelot! Ocelot!
Where have you gone?
Morning is over
and noon slouches on

Your stripes could all fade
in the poisonous day
When you see the sunlight
move out of the way

You prance with the beasts
who parade every night
And silently slouch
through the forest by light
Don’t be the only one left on the block
Come hide in the herd
and float with the flock

Ocelot! Ocelot!
Where are you now?
You never listen to me anyhow
You wandered and ambled
you walked, now you run
Knowing you’ll bake
like a snake in the sun
You prance with the beasts
you parade every night
And silently slouch
through the forest twilight

Don’t be the only one left on the block
Come hide in the heard
and float with the flock

You prance with the beasts
you parade every night
And silently slouch
through the forest twilight

Don’t be the only one left on the block
Come hide in the heard
and float with the flock

Ocelot! Ocelot!
Where have you gone?
(Won’t you come out to play?)
Ocelot! Ocelot!
Where have you gone?
(Won’t you come out to play?)
Ocelot! Ocelot!
Where have you gone?
(Won’t you come out to play?)

Hey what do you know? Another song about finding connection but maintaining individuality! Granted, the connection is loosening now and I wouldn’t fault anyone for telling me this one is a stretch. But how many times have you wanted to feel included when you were somehow left out? Sure, it feels great to be your own person but sometimes you want to be able to blend in and “float with the flock”. This song brings that home by pointing out that no matter how bright your individual “spots” are sometimes it is fun to simply “come out and play.”

 

The set then closes with the instrumental shot of energy that is First Tube, a song that may not have any of the overtones that I am connecting here. Then again, perhaps it does. Early versions of the song as performed by that short-lived early incarnation of Trey’s solo projects ‘8 Foot Fluorescent Tubes’ included Heloise Williams repeating the phrase “free thought” over and over. No man is an individual without free thought. Something to ponder. It’s a very loose connection but I think it offers up a closure point for the theme I am looking at here. Plus getting a Phish First Tube with TAB horns was a nice treat even if they didn’t take this (or really any) of the songs too far afield.

 

The idea of catharsis is often bandied about when discussing Phish’s music, particularly singular jams but often when looking at the arc of a particular set or show, for example with a well placed Slave or Hood that caps a deep dive set by bringing us all back into the light. I find it to be an overused term for the most part but I can attest that with this set that I experienced it in the moment. The tale that Trey wove brought forth a lot of emotional weight for me, weight that I was able to purge in the joy of that First Tube closer. Heck, even the Loving Cup encore helped in that regard what with the wonderful feeling that comes from belting out “what a beautiful buzz!!” at the top of your lungs with 19,000 other people. Phish generally ends their sets and shows in a manner that allows for such release. That is perhaps one of the things that many of us chase more than anything: that feeling of being able to lose yourself in the music, letting all the worry and weight of life slide away if even for only a few moments, and connecting with those who surround you. On this night, to me, the message was clear.

 

If you have read this far, I appreciate it. It seems that each year our dissections of Phish’s NYE Gags get more and more divisive as we have more points of comparison to relate them to. Was this set as compelling as the Hourglass NMINML jam from 2015? Musically, no way. I have been fortunate enough to see Phish on NYE several times and each time I know that there is more to what they are doing than a simple collection of songs being played. It is natural for one to want to find connection to the music just as we yearn for connection with other people. We want to be able to relate these experiences to what we know and understand or perhaps to foster questions about that which we do not comprehend. I know that my experience this year and in years past is different from what others got from the show. And I am probably reading more into this than ever intended by Trey and the band. But the very fact that this music can foster such thoughts in us is encouraging because it gives evidence to something that Mike Gordon once wrote to me on a postcard many many years ago after I sent in a letter to the band (the exact substance of which I have long since forgotten).

What you have written is far beyond the realm of a compliment. It’s an indication that the deeper thing – that deeper thing – is happening. Thanx so much.

Mike Gordon (Phish)

Art is defined by interpretation. Without context, real or projected, there is no meaning to it. To me that causes it to lose intrinsic value. We tend to shy away from this sort of perspective on the art that Phish creates or perhaps many of us do not view it in that construct. I am not here to say why that is. All I can do is reflect on what this music did for me and caused me to feel. At the root that is the goal, right? My interpretation is a product of what I observed visually, aurally, and physically along with the concepts I had swirling around my in head looking for external meaning or import. Phish provided the story and for that I thank them. I have found value in the experience that they gave me by way of their art.