by Bryan Winchell

When burdened by expectations, comparisons are completely unfair. Many a kid has grown into a sulking, under-achieving adult because he did not live up to his father's successes and many a band can relate. Everything in life, it seems, has its unique qualities; its strength and its weaknesses, and should be judged individually, not compared to something that's come before it that may be similar.

Still, comparisons can be made less judgmentally (enough of the simplistic, "My band is better than yours!") and can thus better to serve to enhance understanding. It is with this spirit that I hope to compare my two summer tour experiences: Phish at Deer Creek and String Cheese Incident at Horning's Hideout.

Understand my bias: I much prefer the cool, hilly, forested Northwest to the muggy, flat fields of the Midwest; and I much prefer the textural, funky rawkin' spaciness of Phish to the down-home, airy, gentle textures of SCI. These attitudes did not change during or after that week. What did change were my perceptions of our scene and where it may be going. Let me explain.

Both bands and the scenes that surround them are at critical junction in their evolution; Phish growing more self-assured in their groove-oriented sound, while planning to take a year off from the touring circus, and SCI adding new styles to their music and creating a whole new concept of the concert experience, while contemplating the implications of a growing fan base that could possibly explode with Phish out of the picture for a year.

Growth inevitably means new challenges and both bands are in the process of re-invention to meet those challenges. However, while the music is strictly up to the boys on stage, the scene is up to those of us who follow these bands around like rabid dogs, chomping at the bit for the next mind-blowing experience.

I can offer no advice for these bands; I'll leave the music to them. But I can offer opinions about how each scene is succeeding at providing, in Trey's words, "celebration, healing and ritual," and how each could learn a bit from the other.

"This place is totally crazy," summed up a glowing phan as she crowded past me at Deer Creek's Shakedown Street.

I couldn't agree more.

Having only been to West Coast shows since 1996, I can honestly say I wasn't prepared for the all-out barrage of the senses that was Deer Creek: round-the-clock fireworks displays, a marketplace where everything from toasted herb bagels to jambalaya could be purchased and phans, phans, phans everywhere (many of them ticket-less). Phans of all types; tailed ones, tall ones, bug-eyed ones, big ones, laughing ones, little ones, ones with techno mixes blasting from carried boom boxes, ones with glowsticks galore, and ones with no reason to be there but to be there.

As one new friend at my campsite put it, "Indiana's home to the biggest party in America for a few days. Who woulda thunk it?" The String Cheese Incident's throwdown at Horning's Hideout near Portland was a different type of party. More familial (lots more kids and elders), more hippies, less ravers, less security and more freedom (no needing a ticket once you were in the Hideout!), and, of course, less people: 30,000+ to 3,500. My main perception at Deer Creek was just how huge Phish really was; I can clearly recall being in awe of all those heads that lined the inside of the 25,000-seat amphitheater all the way to the back wall. For the Phish scene, more people bring more attention from the outside world and, inevitably, more problems. Arrest reports, mainstream media articles about the prevalence of drugs in the lot and the dreaded influx of tour rats are just the leading reminders of this fact.

Much as I would like to report that I was not personally affected by these negatives, I cannot because I was. Besides being asked for hard drugs (and seeing them openly dealt), seeing a grizzled tour rat vomit all over himself in the middle of the afternoon and hearing of my friend's confrontation with a scam artist who changed her story everyday to raise money for her brother, her friend and her 75 friends, I had to suffer one of the worst indignities of all: theft.

Near the end of the first set of night number two, a girl walked by me with a backpack and stole away with my spray bottle. One of my favorite jams, "Theme from the Bottom," was ruined (as was "Cavern" and my set break), as I wrestled with the thought: Why would somebody feel the need to steal a 59-cent spray bottle?

For the next half an hour, my hands covered my pockets every time a phan passed me. It was thanks to a kind Indianan named Eddie, who appeared out of thin air during "Down with Disease" and presented me with lively conversation and tasty Hawaiian kind, that my perceptions of the scene were not crushed that night.

Now I know that I am picking on a few rotten apples because, after all, a crowd of 30,000+ is going to have its share. But in talking with several East Coast and Midwest tour veterans, I think it's safe to say that this year's Deer Creek run was plagued by undesirables.

An excessive amount of dealers crowded the lots; do we really need so many? I'm a proponent of the "each to their own" philosophy and have benefited greatly from mind-expanding substances at shows. Still, it's no wonder the media focuses on the drugs with it so out in the open and prevalent.

And this is where I believe the fans can make a difference. Maybe we aren't bothered by fans who peddle heroin (often selling it as "opium") or fans who can barely keep their balance an fall into you because they are too high, but if we do care, we need to say something about it. Freedom, after all, entails responsibility; responsibility for ourselves and for the world around us.

String Cheese, especially at the isolated world-all-its-own Horning's Hideout, does not yet have these problems. At Phish, there would have been no way I would have left my acoustic guitar and camping gear out in the open; at Horning's, the fear hardly crossed my mind.

And while I loved the wide-open fields of fire twirlers, Frisbee hurlers and squirt-gun warriors at my campsite in Deer Creek (and met some phine pholks!), the concept of "giggle" camping at Horning's meant the campsites were so close together that you couldn't help but become friends with your neighbors. For me, the conversations I had at Horning's were one of the more valuable - and spiritual - experiences of the whole week.

Not quite as spiritual, but highly entertaining, was the Full Moon Dream Dance Ritual. While I very much appreciated the immense amount of hard work that went into the production (as well as the shrines and four Elemental camps), I found the midnight ritual, and the spiritual alchemy that was to follow, a bit forced. Don't get me wrong, I had a very spiritual experience at Horning's, but the spirituality I found was in the inspiring elemental musical jams by SCI and Dr. Didg, the fire dancers and the Middle Eastern singers and musicians on Friday night, the beautiful, bright moon, the walks on the lovely paths throughout the campgrounds, the glistening, refreshing lake and, of course, the zany people.

Spirituality is found in the minute everyday, and while the ritual was humorous and exciting to watch, it struck me as over-the-top and more like an adult play (a hip "Masterpiece Theatre") than a mystical experience. It was, in sum, "top-notch adult entertainment," where laughter became my most favored response, but there wasn't great depth to it. Unless, of course, you consider crazy laughter deeply spiritual. It certainly does feel good. While the Phish scene could learn form the self-policing that seems more prevalent in the SCI scene, the SCI world could benefit from some of the self-deprecating humor - and perhaps, humbleness? - that is so wonderful about the Phish world. And, it could lighten up on the fruffy, New Age philosophies and down-home hokeyness.

In the end, both experiences broadened my appreciation for the diversity and wonder that permeates our scene. Both bands continue to push new boundaries; boundaries that mainstream acts can only dream about. And of the fans of both bands, the vast majority are enlightened, fun and deep-thinking individuals.

As the scene continues to welcome newcomers (and yes, we should welcome them, well...most of them), us "oldbies" need to do our best to set the example of how to respect one another. It is through this respect - and a little bit of self-policing - that both scenes can better adapt to growth as we push onward into this wild new millennium.

It is through this kind of "mature" behavior that we can experience what my friend Richard described as we drove away from Deer Creek: "A three-day festival is like a pagan ritual. You show up, meet your friends, take your natural drugs, dance like crazy, meet new people, get exhausted and then find you're at peace with yourself."