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Mid-Atlantic
Regional Report
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Edited by Anthony Coloneri
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Foxtrot
Zulu By Annabel Lukins Foxtrot Zulu is a band that has been filling my heart and soul with life for the past two years. And to have them play at the Wetlands - the New York-area hippie gathering spot, which is my home-away-from-home - created a perfect scenario. It was one that got me excited from the moment I learned about the show. I could practically hear the intense double-helix sounds of the saxophone and trumpet, wrapped within powerful percussion. All day at work, I anticipated the event. I played all three of their albums, listened to riffs off of their website, picked up on lyrics I had not known and gathered a deeper appreciation for their unique jams and words. My subway trip to the venue, which I usually take solo, is always interesting because I am in such a good mood - smiling, humming and tapping my feet. People must think I've got something going on in my head. I do. It's music. When I walked into the dark, warm, familiar room of the Wetlands, music legends screamed out of the colorful and messy walls. I felt the history of positive energy. Exciting things happen in this space. And I knew that on that night, November 5, like so many nights before, there would be fun, there would be woo-hoo's and there would be dancing. Before I describe the experience, let me tell all of you who have never seen Foxtrot Zulu that you absolutely MUST! Seven men from Rhode Island with many more instruments are: Nate Edmunds on rhythm guitar and vocals, Brad Haas on bass, Neal Jones on lead guitar and vocals, TK on sax, mandolin and vocals, Jeff Light on trumpet, harmonica, trombone and vocals, Paul Miller on percussion, and Jeff Roberge on drums. Together they've developed their own rock and roll sound by combining jazz, funk, groove metal, and reggae-like music, and often breaking into psychedelic jams, as well. They are influenced by and incorporating the sounds of such artists as Charlie Parker, Sun Ra, and Maceo Parker. Foxtrot uses its horn section to stream wild, spiritual sounds into one beat with many parts. They started the set at a reasonable time for the Wetlands, 10:30ish. Besides the usual fans who love to come hear the band, I had invited seven of my friends, none of whom had seen the group play before. Taking people to their first show, no matter what show it is, is such a wonderful part of the experience. To me, music is all about spreading the love. So, on this night, there was so much love in my dancing circle that I was blown away. My girlfriend, at one point during the percussion solo, grabbed me and screamed, "Oh my god," then went back to groove. Opening with "Coalmine," a passionate, horn-driven song that starts slower and builds to an explosion of fun, this jam metal tune has always been one of my favorites off of their second album, Burn Slow. The music took over my body, and I was transcended to the heaven where the musical magicians on stage were. I couldn't stop dancing and singing, even if I tried. "Maryanne" was one of the highlights of the show, and it has evolved into the sickest jam song they have. Jeff Light ripped the vocals on this one, and it's definitely a "10" on the dance meter. Plus, all of them, especially TK danced just as much as the audience at some points. When I usually get into a jam, I can be found with my eyes closed, grooving back-and-forth, letting the music get into me. When the Maryanne jam began, it was so tight, yet exploratory that I stood there, in the front row, with my hands on my hips and mouth wide open, basically in awe of the incredible sounds were coming out of the band's instruments. Finally, I gave up and resumed dancing. Totally inspiring. Another highlight was "The American">"Ceasefire" segue. Foxtrot has been known to flow from one song into another, but I have never seen a segue as fitting, smooth and appropriate as this. "American," the first song on their new album Frozen in Time, is a light, friendly tune that features powerful, gravely vocals by Nate and electrifying guitar by Neal. Ceasefire is a deeper, darker, full number. The contrast between the two songs made the segue even more pronounced. Plus, Ceasefire is one of my favorite tunes. It is purely thrilling. A song like "Boulevard" invoked a high-energy, uplifting feeling- kind of like dancing on a beach with the Caribbean band in the background. The song was written in Maine, on the property of Jeff Light's grandmother's house, near the Saco River. The reason I mention this is because, Nate, who wrote the song, told me that it is about reaching, finding a better, more desirable place. That's kind of what Foxtrot Zulu represents to me. The band segued into a drum solo on this song, busting into a full percussion and drum utopia, then back into "Boulevard." "Lucretia McEvil," the Blood Sweat & Tears cover, was one of the most kick-ass songs of the night. Once the horns opened, they complemented each other with harmonious magic, and sucked me in, along with a very danceable guitar and drum beat, until the very end. I was left winded with my hands on my knees, trying to catch a breath. According to the band's road manager, Kevin "Smiley" Mazza, Foxtrot acquired new effects for their horns, which can be heard in such songs like "Lucretia McEvil." First of all, TK and Jeff used little mikes connected to their horns, instead of stand-ups. This allowed them to dance more and become a more driving force with the music, jumping up and down, moving around the stage in funny, silly ways. The "delay" for example, created an echo. "These new toys are out of this world," Smiley exclaimed, "adding a new dimension." You're telling me! I just don't get to see this group enough. Call me a selfish music lover, call me a live music addict, just call me the next time Foxtrot is either in NYC or nearby. I'll be there.
Bob
Dylan Phil Lesh and Friends By Rob Turner I'll admit to being more than a little concerned during the long drive to my first Phylan show. Since the Dylan/Petty/Dead tour of 1986, I have noticed that the Bob audience and the Dead audience don't exactly see eye to eye on everything. There is nothing like the energy of the Grateful Dead community, or the attentiveness of the Dylan crowd. Somehow, these two audiences that I hold dearly to my heart often find a way to exhibit their most annoying qualities when they are thrown together. For example, many Dylan fans insist on sitting through even the most high-energy moments. I've been asked by Dylan fans to take my seat even when people directly in front of me were dancing to a ferocious version of "Highway 61." Conversely, Dead Heads have been accused of dancing wildly (or talking loudly) through even the most intimate of moments. GD fans also have a tendency to cram way too many people into reserved seating areas, invading their neighbor's space as a result. More than a few Dead fans complain about Dylan's tendency to repeat songs, and many Dylan fans are even less tolerant of long instrumental explorations. Would these crowds collide or coalesce? The mood was festive in downtown Baltimore. Dead Heads were enjoying beverages at the nearby "Wharf Rat" establishment, and music-loving sports fans gathered at the warmer confines of the sports bar next door. One area by the main entrance resembled a kennel, with literally over 20 people bringing their dogs to downtown Baltimore, and two or three more canines were roaming around leash-free. The incessant barking mingled with the s pealing bells emitting from nearby churches and cathedrals (The Basilica of the National Shrine of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary is one of them) with striking regularity, which Dylan would later reference during his set. The basketball fan in me was caught off guard as Robin Ficker was greeting people at the arena doors and handing out flyers promoting his run for the Maryland State senate. Ficker is a lawyer famous for sitting behind the opponents bench at Washington Wizards' (and the Bullets before them) games, and hurling sometimes brutally personal (but never foul-mouthed) barbs at the enemy players. It was a real collision of worlds to see him outside of a big time rock event. However, the attendees I spoke with weren't tickled with Ficker's promise to "make Maryland drug free." I'm gonna go to a Wizards' game, sit behind Ficker and scream "know your friggin' audience" every five minutes sometime very soon. Anyway, Phil's set list: Jam> I wound up with mediocre seats, but was able to improvise and nail a nice little spot up front on the floor anyway. Lesh and Friends took the stage somewhat unceremoniously, with the house lights still on and the building about half-empty. They were even noodling around for a minute or two before the house lights dropped, focusing the attention of the audience onto the stage. Lesh's friends on this night were the young lion of slide guitar Derek Trucks, the Head Mule Warren Haynes, Zen Tricksters key man Rob Barraco, and the ever present, hard-hitting, ex-Hornsby Band drummer John Molo. What proceeded was a very challenging set of mostly improvised music, which unfolded smoothly for the most part, with a few rough spots. It seemed to me that for the most part, the only problem they were having was moving from the jams to the first lyric of the songs. I was amazed that Phil had the balls to play a set in this style opening for Dylan, who's audience is rarely exposed to song segues, let alone improvisations completely free of song structure. I cautiously glanced around and found the audience refreshingly receptive to the aural challenge. My preconceived notions had misled me, on this night anyway. The band explored many textures, and teased with some familiar riffs (although I didn't hear anything specific to "Dark Star" and I was surprised that it was entered on many lists as a "Dark Star jam," I guess any open jamming is "Dark Star" to some) before settling a bit awkwardly into "Morning Dew." I actually enjoy Phil's voice on many songs, but this isn't one of them (now y'all might have a guess as to why I don't get press passes anymore). He really doesn't do the song justice, and I was surprised he took a shot at it when Warren Haynes would surely sing it beautifully. Haynes took a completely different approach to the first guitar break. Rather than attempt to replicate Garcia's high voltage approach to this section, Haynes opted for a smartly crafted, soulful lead. When the moment came that I was expecting Phil to deliver the final verse, he instead gave Derek the nod for a solo. Trucks built on Haynes' lead splendidly, at one point repeating some piercing notes while Lesh and Molo built the rhythm to a frenzied peak. Lesh actually saved his most expressive singing for the final verse, which gave way to a relaxed jam that in turn unfolded sweetly into some powerful musical regions. Trucks played some exquisite gentle guitar during the initial quiet section of the jam. I caught Lesh and Haynes sharing glances of approval at each other as Trucks started the build with some absolutely brilliant slide guitar lines. Trucks came off all night as an incredibly assured player, especially considering the fact that he is still in his early twenties. Haynes lent some sweet riffs to the proceedings, but clearly the band was letting Derek lead them through the jam. Just when I thought they were going to catapult the jam to a climax, Lesh signaled the band with his eyes, and everything came back down. Lesh sang the "I guess it doesn't matter" line quietly a second time, ending the rendition on a mournful note as opposed to the climactic Grateful Dead endings. By the end of the song I realized that the ol' Baltimore Arena had filled up pretty rapidly since Phil had started his set. "Morning Dew" was an example of Lesh's approach with the ongoing and evolving Phil and Friends project. He dismantles and reinterprets the Dead material in a way that is both refreshing and respectful. The version of "The Wheel" that would follow was even more adventurous. There was a long jam into "The Wheel," which may have been extended due to the band's struggle with reaching the first lyric of the song. It seemed they made two or three unsuccessful attempts to launch into it, but without that clearly defined (Garcia) introductory lead guitar line they couldn't get there. Nobody was panicking though, as the music would just drift back to improvisational spaces with seeming ease. There were many moments of delectable jamming, as Haynes and Trucks displayed their comfort level with each other. These guys have shared the stage many times before, and it was never more evident than here. They were completely free from any song structure at one point, yet their guitar lines flowed together astonishingly. Finally, during one moment of very quiet, gorgeous Trucks and Haynes interplay, Lesh gently inserted the "Wheel" bass line, and this time they successfully reached the song's first lyric. If you are specifically a fan of "The Wheel," then you must acquire this tape. It was clearly the most adventurous and creative take on "The Wheel" that I have ever seen by anybody, anywhere. Warren, Phil, and Rob sounded great singing the first two verses. Just as they finished the second verse, somebody hit three chords that sounded a bit like the intro to The Dead's version of Chuck Berry's, "The Promised Land," which served as a prelude to another journey to unencumbered improvisation. This section was highlighted by some muscular Molo and Haynes interplay, before it settled into a jam that resembled a march. This gave way to the "Round round, robin run around" verse, sung over a gentle rhythmic background, which became uproarious when they returned to "the wheel is turnin'..." Again they wandered into the great unknown, making it two full-blown jams, completely departing from "The Wheel's" structure during the verse section. If the Dead ever broke up the verse section of this song with even one improvisational jam, I haven't heard it. The second was a little longer and centered more on the sliding Derek, and the "Small wheel turn by the fire and rod" verse emerged abruptly just as I thought the band was going to segue to something else. The jam that followed explored many textures in a short amount of time, keeping the audience guessing as to what would follow. At one point, the band lowered to a whisper, and Trucks played some absolutely mesmerizing, gentle slide guitar. Again, Derek proved he is not shy, as he gradually led the band toward some jazzy regions. Warren jumped right on this, and the two of them brought forth a powerful musical swirl like those one would hear from Coltrane bands of years gone by. I wish Dick Latvala (GD archivist who passed away in early August) could have been alive to hear this one. This jam ultimately led to the band coming to a full stop for the first time of the evening. Within seconds, Warren counted off "Playin' In The Band." I found myself hoping that Haynes would sing this one. When Rob Barraco started the first line, I was very surprised, even disappointed. I love the Zen Tricksters, but I wondered if we needed Rob Barraco singing Weir songs. As is often the case, the preconceived notions were nothing if not misleading. Barraco delivered a strong, assured lead vocal. He neither tried to sound like Weir, nor did he over-sing. He brought forth a confident lead vocal, winning me over by the end of the first verse. (NOTE - I saw eight more of these shows and time and time again Barraco seemed to be helping the other players with the structure of the Dead songs. He demonstrated an amazing knowledge of the GD material. Even Lesh had moments of confusion cleared up with the help of Mr. Barraco.) Warren brought Garcia to mind with his Jerry-ish guitar work behind the first two choruses. "Playin" gave way to a jam that held even more moments of rapture. However, I thought there were also intermittent struggles when they seemed to be having a hard time blending. Some of the musical ideas weren't flowing and blossoming as well as they had been earlier. They did come together with strength toward the end of the jam though, especially as they played with a chord progression that sounded like "China Cat Sunflower" for a while. The jam settled down, and Warren counted off "Just A Little Light." Any fan of the late Grateful Dead keyboard/vocalist Brent Mydland owes Warren Haynes a Christmas card. Haynes is the main reason two of Brent's songs, "Tons Of Steel" and "Just A Little Light," (Warren also has sung Traffic's "Dear Mr. Fantasy" in a Mydland style) have resurfaced in Grateful Dead land. He nails the "Just A Little Light" lyric so perfectly it's spooky. On this version, he also ripped a tight, hot solo at the first guitar break, and an aggressively exploring, Gov't Mule-style guitar solo on the second break. Ultimately, he brought the latter down to a whisper, and engaged Derek Trucks in some mouth-watering call and response action, which also featured some amazingly improvised twin guitar lines. Again the band settled naturally into a relaxed extemporization, with a long, ethereal stretch, before sneaking back into "Little Light." Warren continued his most aggressive guitar playing of the night, interrupting the out chorus with a knifing lead. The band wandered out of the song quietly, and not only riffed "Playin' In The Band," but each member also seemed to be making a legitimate effort to play the end of the song, but they just couldn't quite get there. Phil saved the two tightest numbers, and his strongest lead vocal moments, for last. Jessie Colin Young's "Get Together" fit comfortably into a "Bo Diddley beat" arrangement. Phil's voice sounded princely on this anthemic piece which would have been a great part of The Grateful Dead's repertoire. The set closing "Cold, Rain and Snow" seemed to win over even the most anti-Dead Dylan fans. Warren and Derek each took strong and concise leads in these final numbers, helping the crowd back from the improvisational wonderland that characterized most of this set. These two songs built a nice bridge to the forthcoming set from the cowboy angel. Mr. Dylan's set list: (Acoustic) Love
Sick Dylan took the stage, and even the most loyal, ardent, obsessive, Jerry-lovin', VW bus drivin', taper-huggin' freakboy Dead Head in me had to admit that this was the meat of the show. Dylan was commanding for most of this set, and those who felt he should've been opening for Phil on this tour are spending too much time out of their minds. He is currently joined by Austin guitar-slinger Charlie Sexton. Sexton is the newest member of the band, and he supplanted Larry Campbell as most of the ladies' favorite Dylan band sideman. I'm not afraid to say it; he's a damn good-looking guy. He makes Brad Pitt look like Newman from the Seinfeld show. I am a fully heterosexual male and I've caught myself looking at this guy a couple of times. He can play too, when Dylan lets him (check out "Highway 61" from Atlanta 9/4/99 if you can), which is all too rare so far. Sexton has a few releases of his own; the first of which (Pictures For Pleasure) was released in 1985 when he was only 16 years old. Larry Campbell initially joined the band in March of 1997 replacing JJ Jackson (now a member of Lucinda Williams' touring band) as the lead guitarist (Dylan also began enjoying Campbell's considerable fiddle abilities shortly thereafter). Since multi-instrumentalist Bucky Baxter left the band earlier this year, Campbell has been fingered to play a gradually increasing variety of instruments himself. Campbell and Sexton also provide Dylan's strongest backing vocals in over ten years. Ex-Garcia Band member David Kemper handles the drums and Dylan's longest running sideman ever, and noted gumbo chef Tony Garnier is the bassist (he also serves as musical director for the band). Dylan opened with Ralph Stanley's "I Am The Man, Thomas." Recently while recording with the bluegrass legend for his "Clinch Mountain Country" CD, Dylan reportedly commented that, "This is the highlight of my career." I think it's fitting for him to stand in front of a largely Grateful Dead audience, which is heavily influenced by Dylan himself, and perform a song from one of his own greatest influences. However, the tribute may have been more poignant had Dylan annunciated the lyrics a bit more. It was still touching, especially given the fact that Dylan has opened with this song at many recent shows within a one thousand-mile radius of Dickenson County, Virginia, where Stanley was born. It also was a nice gesture to the portion of Dylan's fan base that might not have been wooed by the adventurousness associated with the extended jamming during Lesh's opening set when Dylan came "out of the shoot" with a short, upbeat song. Dylan delivered the vocals to "Mr. Tambourine Man" quite clearly. He particularly emphasized the "My weariness amaaaaaaaaa-zes me, I'm branded on my feet" line. Although Bob chose to skip my favorite verse of the song (the one that starts with "though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun") it was still a standout version. The modern day Dylan fan is forced to deal with incomplete versions of songs pretty much every show. However, one can also revel in Dylan's mastery of delivery. One example of this is his reading of the end of "Tambourine Man's" second verse, when Dylan seemed to intentionally omit the "into my own parade" line that usually follows "I'm ready for to fade." By doing so, Dylan made his characters plea, "cast your dancin' spell my way" more desperate. Dylan also treated the crowd to his quirky approach to the acoustic guitar segments. Sometimes his playing is out front, sometimes he weaves his guitar lines in and out of his band mates, or he even just lays back and lets Larry take over. I was caught off-guard when "Visions Of Johanna" surfaced as the third song of the show, this being my fourth show since Bob changed format earlier this year (he now opens with an acoustic set which lasts for close to half of the show, when he used to tuck the acoustic portion into the middle of a mostly electric show). There were some sweet moments of vocal embellishment here, and a nice little guitar break. However, it wasn't one of his finer "Visions" overall. He stumbled over the second line of the second verse, and skipped the third verse altogether. Then he botched the resolution of the fourth verse by reverting back to the third verse for the final two lines. He also took a little of the gusto out of the final verse, as he failed to build to the "while my conscience explodes" line correctly, became visibly annoyed with himself for a fleeting moment, and opted to just skip the line altogether. Please don't misinterpret me here, a "Visions" is always welcome, be it stellar or not. "Visions" is usually the highlight of any Dylan set, but not tonight's. With "Ring Them Bells" Dylan began tossing out chestnuts to his most faithful fans with striking generosity. Bob's expressive lead vocal blended magnificently with Larry Campbell's gentle pedal steel. I had not seen this gem from Oh Mercy since early in the decade, and it was appropriate after hearing Baltimore's bells earlier in the day. There was no verse skipping on this outstanding interpretation. With the exception of a couple of lines in the first part of the last verse, Dylan's delivery was magnificent. He took a second stab at the flubbed verse, repeating it passionately, after a gorgeous instrumental lead by Larry Campbell. "That's for this city full of bells," he said after they finished the song. My mind started to run wild. How generous will Dylan get? Could we get the rare "Tryin' To Get To Heaven," with its line "Miss Mary Jane got a house in Baltimore?" Did he see all the Heads with their dogs (or at least hear all the barking) not far from where his bus was parked? Would he be moved to perform "One Too Many Mornings" which begins with "Down the street the dogs are barkin', the dogs will lose their bark." Perhaps he would regale with some obscenely rare songs, like "Romance In Durango," which has the line, "the dogs are barking and what's done is done." Or even "Clothes Line Saga" from The Basement Tapes, on which is sung, "the dogs were barking, a neighbor passed." Most appropriate would have been "If Dogs Run Free" from his 1970 release New Morning. I don't think Uncle Bob has ever performed this particular song live. Although Dylan would not touch on these songs, he certainly did not disappoint. "Tangled Up In Blue" did not have the strength of most of the others I had seen this year, but Dylan played with the lyrics liberally. He keeps the voice in the third person for most of the song these days. His embellishment in the middle of the third verse seemed to change its meaning entirely, "So he drifted down to New Orleans, workin' night and day, workin' on a fishin' boat, but his mind was slippin' away." However, the song didn't gain much steam until it concluded with a rousing Bob harmonica solo. Many Dylan fans have grown weary of this being performed at virtually every show for a long time now. It seemed everyone in the house was pleased with Dylan's offering of Johnny Cash's "Big River." This song found it's way into many live Grateful Dead performances, and although Dylan had performed it live before, it is, for him, an exceedingly rare live pearl. Dylan was thoroughly enjoying himself, as he shot Sexton some approving looks as Charlie goaded sounds out of his guitar that were reminiscent of Johnny Cash's early studio work. (NOTE - The following night, the band delivered an even more impressive version of Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues" with Sexton offering guitar parts strikingly true to Johnny's original studio version) Dylan was clearly having a great time with this one; his delivery was loose but respectful. "Big River" chugged along like a train, picking up a little steam for good measure during the final instrumental break. A fine tribute to the great Johnny Cash. The "Joey" that followed was the only clunker of the night. He delivered the first four verses in a somewhat off-handed fashion. Then he skipped five verses, and sang the last three. I'm used to Bob skipping verses of many of his songs, but "Joey" is a masterpiece of a story song which he shouldn't even bother playing if he's gonna just go half-ass with it. It was a very disappointing moment in an otherwise spectacular performance. However, the instrumentals were enjoyably under-stated. I had always wanted to see "Down Along The Cove" (from John Wesley Harding) live, and tonight, for the first time, I got my wish. Dylan reversed the first two verses and peppered the song with other lyrical adjustments. He changed "it sure is good to see you comin' today" to "you sure look good today." And "Everybody watchin' us go by, knows we're in love, yes, they understand," became "Lord have mercy momma, sure glad you understand." Campbell began the ensuing guitar break, but was quickly joined by Sexton and Dylan for a short guitar trio jam. Even though the New Hampshire version eight days later was far superior, it was a delight to catch this rarity live. Dylan returned to the amazing Oh Mercy album for "Man In The Long Black Coat" which surfaces about once a tour these days. Again, Larry's light messaging of the pedal steel was an ideal backdrop for Dylan's gentle crooning. This was an absolutely stunning version, with Dylan getting every verse and almost every word perfectly; I found myself transported by the melancholy power that Dylan's band conjured. The entire building was moved to utter silence creating an amazing vibe, especially considering the fact that we were in an arena with 14.000 or more seats. Dylan romped through a hooch-fueled bluesy "Tombstone Blues." The normally low-key Tony Garnier stepped up with some rollicking bass lines. Larry Campbell sounded strong on his new toy, which stands to the right of the pedal steel. I call it a "table steel" for lack of a better description, but whatever it is, it sure has some muscle to it. We just got a small window into its strength here, but it wouldn't be until later in the tour that some of the most electric moments occurred while Larry was diving into this energy machine. Perhaps it's useless and pointless to know that Bob skipped four verses of this song, but for the record, it was a painfully incomplete rendition. However, I catch the song so infrequently that I was happy to see them tear it up. The final jam was a guitar feast with Sexton and Dylan stirring up waves of energy with their mingling leads. I finally succumbed to my over-powering need to pee during the "Like A Rolling Stone" which concluded the set. It warmed my heart to see all kinds of Deadheads dancing hard to Uncle Bob. This made for one of the most enjoyable treks to the bathroom in my recent memory. I could hear the show clearly, even in the bathroom, where Campbell's very sweet guitar solo echoed off the tiles. When I returned, Dylan sang the "princess on the steeple" verse in almost humorous fashion, with phrasing that was unique even by his own standards (although it did indicate another verse had been hurdled). This settled down into a gentle and brief guitar interlude where Dylan's band used to do a full-blown jam, so the show ended a bit quietly in my eyes. Dylan left the stage to thunderous applause, and returned to an even louder response. He quickly corralled all of the energy to the painful beauty of his Grammy-award winning "Love Sick." This haunting masterpiece from Bob's Time Out Of Mind CD has been performed as the first encore at most of Dylan's recent shows. This is one song I don't mind seeing almost every show, as Bob seems to find a new way to wring another ounce of angst out of this agonizingly self-examining song. "Rainy Day Woman #12 + 35" has settled down a bit from the blistering versions Bob was delivering as recently as 1997. It still is a fun song, and Bob deviated from his recent two-verse approach by adding a third verse. It was improvised, but partially inaudible, and made up partly of lines from the second verse. Campbell again flexed his muscle on his new "table steel" toy, offering us more hints of the energetic potential of this powerful instrument. Bob introduced his band in animated fashion, then said, "we're gonna get Phil Lesh back out here," which met with deafening approval from the Maryland crowd. With Dylan's band performing acoustically, Phil offered some wonderful bass to a spirited rendition of "Friend Of The Devil." Dylan seemed to be making an extra effort, offering arguably his finest lead vocal of the evening. The mystical beauty of the song and the cosmic significance of Lesh and Dylan performing it together captivated the crowd. Dylan has kept it floating around his repertoire for the past two or three years, so he is more than familiar with it. He and Campbell intertwined for two separate instrumentals. Lesh even stepped up for some lead bass (something he did infrequently with the Grateful Dead of the 80s and 90s). His performance sparkled, especially when he traded some licks with Tony Garnier, who was commanding on the stand-up bass. The "Not Fade Away" that closed the evening had considerably more muscle than any Dylan version I've heard, with Lesh goading extra energy with his beastly bass lines. I glanced around during the final chorus and was hit with a wash of warm energy. The room had the feel of a Grateful Dead show; it seemed every body was in motion with the music. This evening built to what I would consider to be the ideal meshing of the Dylan and Dead audience. My most vivid memory of the evening is of Lesh and Dylan sharing a sliding handshake with broad smiles on their faces. The two artists and audiences had coalesced, and I couldn't have been happier.
Max
Creek with 4:20 and Smoke the Prophet by Phil Simon It was with great anticipation that I drove to New Haven on this night. Tonight, I would see one of my favorite bands for the first time in years, Max Creek. Now I had seen Creek before- shows at the old Living Room, at the Agora Ballroom, Katina's near UMass, and even in Chico, Ca. when my band, Freaks of Nature, opened for them at the Brickworks. But all of those had been years ago, and my Jones for the Creek had certainly been itching me. So off to Toad's I went... Now, I had been hearing about Toad's for years, back to the days when Billy Joel recorded there, or the mayhem surrounding the Rolling Stones shocking appearance in the 1980's. But I moved West before I ever had a chance to go. So I stared at the posters that adorned the room- Elvis Costello, James Taylor and Steven Stills, George Clinton, Billy Idol, Taj Mahal- who hasn't played here? The room smelled a bit funky, and it was empty when I walked in to see 4:20 warming up. I had heard things about both warm up bands, and their names alone enticed me to check them out. 4:20 was a bouncy groovy thing, playing a mixture of covers and originals. Their lineup was drums, keys, bass and guitar. The keyboard player was my favorite, having a traditional Hammond style. Smoke the Prophet was fronted by two acoustic guitar players, and had bass, keys, and drums (from what I can remember) The singer's voice was unusual, and reminiscent of Dylan. Neither band really gripped me, however, and my excitement for Creek just built. I could see the vibe building. Then Creek hit the stage. I must confess that I have a soft spot in my heart for these guys. I never could understand why they didn't dominate the Jamband scene- and their talents had only grown in the time that I was away. Set
ONE Set
TWO Encore: ( ) denotes who sang lead vocals Max Creek is a great jamband with all of the right elements- drums and percussion, screaming guitar, solid bass, and honky-tonk keys. Each of the front three guys sing- handling bandleader responsibilities for their own material while inventively covering the great songs of rock. A few things stick out in my mind. First, Mark was very energetic on the keys and vocals. It was quite obvious that he was feeling great, even before they brought out a cake and sang for his birthday. Second, Robert the percussionist was even better than I remembered. His nuance on the percussion set is unparalleled, and he inspired me when I least expected it. He was achieving things rhythmically on the maracas that I didn't know were possible- 10 minutes into the show. I don't know why these guys aren't packing 5,000 people a night into venues all over the country. They are untouched in how well they play Jam oriented music in the San Francisco style. Their vocals are gritty yet full of spirit and tone. Their rhythmic continuity on stage tells of their thirty years together, and the guitar soars with every solo. Scotty is by far my favorite guitar player in the Home Grown scene, and I find myself staring at his flying fingers whenever I see them play. The way this band carries themselves on stage, their flirtatious and yet comforting manner with their audience, and their overall excellence in playing puts them in a league by themselves. I look forward to many nights dipping into the Creek. So that's why I moved back East.
Del
McCoury Band By George Schaefer This was a real treat! The Del McCoury Band finally plays Philadelphia. I've always loved bluegrass but we don't get a lot of shows in this city. I was ecstatic when the Del McCoury Band was booked to play the Painted Bride Arts Center in Phily. It was a pleasant surprise. The Painted Bride normally tends to cater to jazz, Latin and avant garde artsy type music. The booking of Del McCoury indicates that arts groups may be starting to afford bluegrass the respect it deserves as a truly great form of American music. I'll not go off on a soapbox about the unfair biases people have towards bluegrass. We all saw "Deliverance" and we all know that bluegrass is more than that. So I went down to the Painted Bride and a local bluegrass band called Jim and Jenny were opening up. They played a spirited and well received set. They were grateful to play for a crowd of bluegrass enthusiasts instead of the normal rock crowds they play in front of. I was happy to learn of a local band that can play bluegrass like that. And after sneaking out for a couple beers during the break, I returned to catch a set from the band David Grisman calls the best bluegrass band in the world: The Del McCoury Band. Del and his boys are the real deal. They played old style around a single microphone and blew the crowd away. Some broken strings aside, these guys were doing some fingerpicking good music. By the time they closed the encore with "Rawhide" we were all bluegrassed up and feeling pretty good.
Phil
and Friends By Dan Alford Set
list: No preface for this one. I got onto the floor just as the lights went down. Phil and the guys set off on a 25 + minute jam that wandered through all sorts of territory, exploring new planetary systems with but a pass, or focusing intently on a single flower petal along the trail. There were really three jams, Phil winding down each one to a brief quietness before the next one took shape. Each of the larger jams, however, was comprised of multiple jamlets that contained tempo shifts, key changes, and solos. This was quintessential psychedelic music; by that I mean that it was fairly unstructured musical wandering that drifted out, swelled up and drew back into itself. And as Warren was the man on the scene, there was much more heavy playing, power chords and smoking leads, than space noodling. Throughout the jam there were hints at the GD songbook, including Stephen, Dark Star, Other One, a full blown Wheel jam for the bulk of the second jam, and China Cat. The final segment eventually wound down into "Get Together." It was a little weird at the start; I really thought The Wheel was going to materialize. Phil seemed to enjoy singing the tune a lot, and the first two jams were heavy. The chorus grew each time it returned, becoming almost triumphant. The last jam was more spacey in nature. "Mr. Fantasy" started up somewhat disjointed, not in a negative way at all, just dispersed. It came together within a few bars and as Rob and Warren set out the intro, the crowd realized what was happening and greeted the old favorite. Rob was right there with organ fills throughout the song, and for the first time that evening, Phil began to drop bombs. So sweet to feel those sounds vibrate through your chest. Warren took the first solo and then while Derek was out in front, Warren, Phil and John created a reggae groove; a nice twist to the song. Derek's oscillating sound, like sitar with no resonance strings, added a strange almost Asian tone to the whole night. A spacey jam, littered with more bombs, lead into Cryptical. I was psyched to hear those first notes, and the first verse was followed by about fifteen seconds of Molo before a massive Other One explosion that included everyone. The vocals were solid, and included "in a circle." It did sound a bit strange without "y'all" taking up space, but you could get used to it. The jam shot out over the horizon, and Warren worked a cool cascade over Phil and John. Things picked up pace and got frenzied, working up to a screeching bought of Meltdown Madness before easing into a slight shuffle that would return in the quiet moments of the evening, hinting at the jazz to come. As the shuffle lost shape and dissipated, I finally eased into the groove of the night. I had rushed in and was overly anxious for the show, my mind was racing and then, when the meltdown crashed, so did my tension. My show really started here. I called "Days Between" in the parking lot, whispering it to J. I think that a lot of Heads overlooked this song back in the day. It was just one of "the new tunes." But if you go back and listen to some of those mid-nineties tapes you'll here some very emotional performances. Phil, however, has taken it to a new level. I strongly encourage everyone out there to re-approach this song with a blank slate. It started out quietly, but I was already covered in goose bumps. Phil was directing the band to build and hush. (It's funny to see Phil and Mickey and Bob direct their bands, pointing at players and circling up the ends of songs after so many years of no one really being in charge.) He nailed down the lyrics perfectly, adding inflections that Jerry never did; Phil understands this song. As it progressed the jams that separated each verse built with more and more intensity. At one point Phil hushed the band and turned to Derek, trading licks in one of the best solos of the night. The jams continued to build, now while Phil was singing; I was on my toes mouth gaping wide. We
stood upon a mountain top, There was a perfect transition into "Blue Train." Most folks commented how much this one resembles "So What" and that's no surprise, because Coltrane considered "So What" to be a very influential tune from his Miles days. I was hoping to hear a jazz tune, which have been few and far between since Steve departure. Trane was to be expected, as he shows up fairly often in Mule sets. Rob was all over this number, McCoy Tyner would be proud. In fact the whole band was giving this song a workout. Nice refrains tied the solos together. As the song ended Phil single handedly lead a flawless transition back into the Other One. They guys missed the last chorus, came to a complete stop, and then just slammed it out! Wow! The second verse of Cryptical was way too short; no long "he had diiiiiiie," segment. I figured that was it, because it was nine o'clock, so the hour and a half was over. But Phil flipped the page on his music stand and "Help on the Way" erupted, as did the arena. It was a very fast version, the band just racing along. "Slipknot!" was also fast, and a bit short, but the potency of the orchestrated segments at the beginning and the end was stupefying. "Franklin's Tower" raged, Derek and Warren howling while Rob sped along side, Phil and John driving the machine. Again it was somewhat short (the triad clocking in somewhere near fifteen minutes) but what it lost in length, it made up for in sheer force. While the crowd gave the band its due, Phil commented on how great it was to be back in New York, and introduced the band. He gave the organ donor rap, which should not be overlooked, even if it ends every show. Thousands of people die yearly in the U.S. alone because of the lack of available organs and blood. Sign your license and let your loved ones know. The set was about an hour and forty-five minutes of near constant exploratory musical mayhem. I was every bit as blown away as I had hoped to be. Phil is monster of music and emotion, a tour de force of sound and vitality. And his bands seem to be inspired by him, striving to do everything they can to live up to the reputation that Phil's Friends have earned. Dylan's set was alright. There were exceptional versions of "Tangled Up in Blue" (I'm not just saying that as "Oh a JGB tune," either), "Tombstone Blues" and "Don't Think Twice." Also Phil came out for "Alabama Getaway," with Zimmerman singing, and "Rainy Day Woman," which had a short bass solo. But on the whole it was not up to snuff with Phil's set. The Arena was only two-thirds full by the end of Dylan's show. As a tape trading friend said, Dylan's set was like a bonus, but not the real thing.
Ratdog By Dan Alford Set
List: OK. It's been a few weeks since I started my run of shows leading to New Year's in the swamp. I've caught the following shows so far: Galactic/Dirty Dozen, moe./Disco Biscuits/DJ Logic, Percy Hill/The Slip/Uncle Sammy, and Phil and Friends/Bob Dylan. In retrospect things have kept improving from show to show; Galactic was fun and had a great light show. I was able to really lose myself in unfamiliar music; Halloween was also a blast. I had been aching to see the Biscuits again, and they hit just right. It also gave me a chance to revisit moe. who really impressed me; Percy Hill floored me. A non-stop, over two hours straight, keep it shakin' boogie fest that left my elated and exhausted. >From these shows (I've been trying to take some insight from each concert) I've learned (or re-learned) the value of newness and environment, trance and rock stars, and detail and community, respectively. If you're actually interested, check out last month's issue. Then Phil rolled around. I was left speechless; at times I thought I was going to lose it. I spent most of the show with my jaw hanging low and up on my tiptoes. It was a run in with some old friends who re-ignited a spark of vitality in me. It's been a long time since I've truly fed on the energy at a big arena show the way I did at that show. There was a giant well, I guess "multicolored amorphous psychedelic monster vibe" is the only appropriate phrase that was hanging in the vaulting space between me and the banners that hung from the rafters of Brendan Byrne Arena (notice the lack of corporate name), and I tapped right in. It's a week later and I don't think I've even begun to really digest the experience yet. But the parade of shows marches on and part two of the San Francisco leg was high steppin' into town. I'm an ardent supporter of all things (or most things anyway) Weir'd. I've seen the Dog fourteen times or there abouts, and that include shows when the Dead were still together. I've been incredibly impressed with how much the band has grown over the years, from a loungey extension of "Scaring the Children" to a very capable, and even inspired, jazz-rock unit. In the same way that I love Phil's seemingly border-less interpretations of Dead songs, the aimless wandering and intergalactic visages, I love the structure that Bobby and Rob have brought to that same songbook, the tight bee-bop jams and skillful deconstructions into cosmic space. That is to say, both facets of the Dead have revitalized the music, making it new and taking it in strange directions. I really like the influence of Jeff and David on the band, and if you haven't heard Dave's "In the Long Run" disc you should stop reading now and go get it. These guys have really made the music their own, and the emotion and energy they infuse into the band and the performances is awe inspiring. That being said, I wasn't terribly impressed with my last Ratdog show (Orpheum, Fall 98) and there was essentially one thing wrong. I didn't like Mark at all. He was fine in TOO, but here he seemed to have no place; he couldn't fit in and wasn't gelling with the rest of the band. It just seemed awkward. But never one to hold a grudge, I was stoked for the upcoming show at the always over-sold Hammerstein. The set lists from the tour looked much more varied than in the past, including all the new tunes, and new GD numbers added to the rotation, and my tapes of RD3 from the spring are playful and high energy. More than anything else, I was holding out for a Weather Report Suite. The place was far more crowded than I had ever seen it. I ended up in a bad spot for the first part of the show. I could literally barely move. There was a lot of talking going on. I was not having a good time. But here's what I remember: the Jam was a slow move towards Jack Straw, not too long. Jack was solid and people were enjoying it. Jay and Bob nailed the lyrics. Dave led the main jam, although Marc was in the mix too. It was nice and long, with a good build. Bird Song was a treat, again with Dave at the forefront. A pleasant jazzy version, the jam was focused, really a great construction. Bob calmed it down after a few minutes and started Easy to Slip. His singing was strong and I was able to wiggle my way out from under the overhang just enough to really focus on the jam. Here Marc really shined. He's truly found his place in the band. At the Orpheum it seemed like he was trying to rip a lead on every song, thus cluttering Rob, who is essentially a lead bass player, and Dave. But now he was willing to sit back and rise only when it was appropriate. Bob was clearly enjoying the jam also, bending over and leaning towards Marc. The Supplication jam was a fractal experience that never really came together. Everyone was tooling about with the themes, but trying to keep an open space in the center. I'll bet this moment will really shine as a piece of strong musicianship on a recording. During the last verse of Easy to Slip, which was short, there was a Bird Song tease. At this point I was so frustrated with the crowd that J. and I headed into the far rear. We milled around during Twilight Time and FOTD, not really able to hear the music. My frustration level was peaking. I even had thoughts of leaving! But then I saw some open space on the other side of the room. The spaces sucked us in and we were able to move closer, and even dance! Masterpiece! We Can Hear! This is where the show really starts. It was definitely time for a new tune and the guys obliged with "October's Queen" > "Even So." The first tune is a bluesy number about a drag queen. It featured great playing across the board. Jay was particularly strong, and Bob kicked a few lead rifts here and there. The song is lyrically heavy, and the singing style is sort of spoken. Really a fun song. The key phrase at the end was "something about her." "Even So," however, is a song to watch. It starts out like any number of Weir tunes, slow and emotional. But in between each verse the song picks up pace and potency. It started to stretch and Jeff began to lay in some nice color. Another verse and everyone was getting into it, Jeff is way out in front. The jam carries into the last verse and stretches beyond. Jeff and Bob are going at it, a beautiful segue into "Other One." The guys followed Bob's lead and wandered over the song for a bit, but Rob kept driving it on. After every few bars he would reassert, "Yes, I do love this song." The jam built up and Bob led a jump explosion into the first verse. I couldn't tell if Jay was singing "in a circle," as he often does, 'cause I was groovin' too hard. Again Marc was right where he needed to be, tearing out a brutal lead that raced like lightning across the landscape, cresting peak after peak after peak. The Ballroom erupted in approval. Bob brought it down, as he likes to do, allowing a new segment to build. Only this time they were jamming out "Bird Song," slightly at first, but with growing direction. Dave decided that he would fully define the piece and charged headlong into the song. It was fantastic! And as if the jam wasn't enough, Bobby rounded up the troops and finished the song! An absolute monster, the second verse was long and littered with jamlets and beautiful singing. And the second it settled down, they were back into Other One. The jam was passionate and in that sort of deconstructed Ratdog meltdown space. Bob was all over it with cool special effects, thwips and sproings and ka-chanks. Things got hectic before settling, and he sang the second verse over essentially no music, just a few random sounds from different areas of the band. But at the chorus Rob and the rest stomped in, pounding it into the ground. Bob silenced the whole band immediately and pointed to Rob who jumped at the opportunity to start is solo, which in this case was a duet with Jay. They stayed on "The Other One" for most of the jam, working perfectly together. Rob is amazing on his own, but Jay's forceful playing was the perfect counterpoint. They also tooled shortly on "Lovelight" before the rest of the band retook the stage. And then it happened, the moment I'd been waiting for since I started listening to the Grateful Dead all those years ago. Bobby picked up the acoustic, and people started howling. I felt disoriented, I knew what was happening but was totally over whelmed. Dave stepped up and laid out Jerry's lines and The "Weather Report Suite" had begun. Everyone was gelling perfectly, driving the "Prelude" on after each verse. The music was swelling up and I was shivering with shear ecstasy. The lyrics were slightly reworked but Bobby was hitting them perfectly. "Part I" began and the band was in full swing. It was too much. But what remains? The wind and rain. The end of "Part I" was awesome, with improvising Bobby doing his thing over the Dave and Jay's backup singing. The signal to wrap it up came and Bob strapped on the electric. "Let it Grow" is a song that begs for the Ratdog treatment, like "Music" or "Estimated" or the one we're still waiting for, "Stranger." It was absolutely mind numbing. The jam between verses alone was enough to knock me over, but after the repetition of "Rise and Fall," the song took on a life of its own. Jeff and Dave were spinning around to the outsides, above and below, while Rob and Jay created a thick center that was sliced wide open by Marc and Bobby, the pair right up next to each other. The end part of the jam lingered for a while, Bob keeping it going and the jam after the lyrics stretched out also, Marc, Dave and Jeff all making a go of it. I was done but more highlights followed. "Two Djinn." I had previously heard this tune only in RD3 format, but even there it was obvious that this one was a keeper, as "Banyan Tree" was. (Why don't they play that?) But with a healthy dose of the full Ratdog effect, this song has become a monster. It was long and had a nicely developed intro with Jeff laying out a funky little pseudo Latin rhythm that would act as the refrain throughout the song. Bobby was extremely animated while singing, giving great inflections and facial expressions. Isn't that what genies always say? A nice long "Throwin' Stones" closed the show. Bob has always done more with this song on his own than with the rest of the Dead. I love the tune and enjoyed this version; I think that often when it is followed by "NFA," "Lovelight," or "Playin'," the set closer is anti climactic. "Throwin'" is best when it stands alone. The encore was the obligatory "Saturday Night" encore was fun. It's too bad that the Dog doesn't use it as an opener, because they crowd seems to love it, and it would really get a show started on the right foot. The venue cleared out pretty quickly after the lights went up but I lingered chatting with a friend. I've
also taken a while to write this review, and in hindsight I must
say that even though there was a rough start to evening, it was
a great show. I mean they played "WRS," and you can't say much more
than that. As I said at the beginning, there is something wonderful
and revitalizing about approaching the GD songbook from a new direction.
History is not something that is stagnant. It is the soil from which
the world grows, and the footing that supports us as we reach towards
the future. There are times when our feet sink into that musty earth
of history and become sedentary; the urge to explore is not as strong
as the urge to revel in what we know. But it's that choice to move
your feet, to look at the ground, to look at your history and to
do something different, that's what lets you know you're alive.
Hot
Tuna/ Derek Trucks Band Partial
Set List (My Pen Ran Out of Ink): You never know about a Hot Tuna crowd. They're generally older, but they can be totally mundane, sitting in their seats and dead quiet (This can be wonderful, because you can really focus on the music. 'Course it's hard to dance when you're sitting down); or they can be drunk and rowdy (This is also fun because everyone's out to party, and you can't help but feel young and healthy around fat sweaty men). Of course, there is a pretty big range of "in between," but these are the bookends. This night was an unfortunate mix of the two: Fat, drunk older men who wanted to sit down and became angry at, and borderline violent towards, those who want to stand or boogie. Through the first three songs I moved around and was yelled at everywhere I went. I settled along the aisle during a good "Been So Long" and had a large gentleman slam his girth into me as he was both coming and going, literally knocking me over. By the end of "I See the Light," one of my absolute favorites, I found my home next to a young couple who were clearly enjoying the show. Only problem was the bass reverb, which drowned out Pete unless he was taking a solo. I was really looking forward to this show and I just didn't enjoy it. That's not to say the playing wasn't great; I was just frustrated. Highlights, in brief, were "99" with a nontraditional bass solo; more refined before Jack really started pounding; "Water Song" was sweet with a mini-solo from Harvey; "Big Boss Man" with a monster solo from Derek; "Funky #7" to close: 'nuff said. As soon as the show ended, we took off. I was mulling over whether or not to take a week off in December. The crowds have really been getting on my nerves the past couple shows.
Soulive
The Makor Set List: Steppin', New Tune, Big Brother *, It's Your Thing, Soulive > Doing Something, Rudy's Way * w/ Kofi Burbridge We headed about ten blocks south to a Jewish community center that doubles as a Knitting Factory satellite, 'cause Soulive was in town. We were seriously underdressed in ratty tees and jeans; the rest of the crowd was in leather jackets and makeup. The place was a young person's meat market; people were hitting on each other left and right. But they were also hanging out near the bar, and talking in the back of the room. There was space to dance and Soulive was in town! "Steppin'" is my new favorite song from this trio. It has a good groove to start and a total tempo change in the middle that ups the ante giant steps. A new tune hat will be performed with Sco on the new (third) album followed. Very catchy with heavy guitar rifts. Kofi Burbridge took the stage for "Big Brother." He played a nice intro on flute, and joined in the full band jam at the end. Again, a great version. While the whole Derek Trucks Band was in attendance, as was Oteil, Kofi was the only person who would sit in. "It's Your Thing" was hot, but the "Soulive" > "Doing Something" was exceptional. The former was right on, while the latter was longer and featured Kras on the talk box. This set was just what I needed. I love Soulive and they were putting on a great show. I didn't stop dancing, even for a second. They closed the show (there was a 1 a.m. curfew!) with an absolutely huge version of "Rudy's Way," Al taking a long intro on the skins. There is definitely something to be said for youth, whether it's in your body or in your mind. I used to work for a guy who had lots of sayings, but one of the best was "Are you here to complain, or are you here to have a good time?" At Soulive, I had a good time.
Phish By Josh Welsh We took two cars. One filled with four, wreath-on-the-head wearing girls all sober and obnoxiously high on life was lead by us four guys, a bit more subdued. Sometimes when I anticipate a show too long ahead of time, I lose a bit of the excitement as I arrive and do not see Shakedown-like scenes that I have grown accustomed to. This night was a different story. Only Friday did it hit me that I was going to a show in a few days, and only on the trip down did the butterflies hit. Rochester's show from winter 97 was in the tape deck and Ghost was halfway through a decent jam. Just before parking in a garage 5 stories up, the encore, Waste came on. That was a strong point for criticism with me for that show, that year and I thought to myself, I hope that tonight redeems Phish in Rochester for me. Maybe it was the entire newly remodeled War Memorial, now Blue Cross arena, or maybe it was your premonition that told me "They tend to pull out the stops at small, one night stands," but it turned out that Phish did a superb job at keeping me ecstatic and forever pleased. After no cavity searches, no metal detectors, and not a mounted pepsi drinking po-po in sight, I was feeling very at ease as we made our way down to the GA seating on the floor. Most of our party's primary goal was to get as close as possible, as it usually is with virgin concert goers, but I did not mind. Soon though, it proved to be too congested with people sitting indian style taking up more space than our tangled legs, so we made our way back to about ten feet in front of the soundboard, Page's side. We all would find room to sit as well, but poor circulation and anxiousness had me standing and shuffling my feet until a few minutes past eight when the lights finally were put out. Everyone stood up then. Joe and I were debating about the opener, so I thought out the usuals, but by no means did I expect the band's decision. Carini, or Lucy as I wrote down on my scrap of paper, was something totally random for me. I could not even remember the last time I had even heard this song. It would continue for a bit on a pretty dark and harsh course, so it got me to thinking how the rest of the show would turn. To take it as a hint was a bad decision though. I was aware that the next tune was played only but a few nights before, but I was still pulling for it. Ever since I had heard Gotta Jiboo for the first time in Albany, I have not been able to get enough of the catchy bouncin tune. Next came a tune that I would be not so familiar with, but guessed the name of it correctly. "Get Back on the Train" was what I wrote and I suppose that is what it is called. I was not too sure what to think of it at the time though. Catchy, yes, but the depth was lacking. It was one of those short but sweet tunes that Mike likes to lead. That was my first impression, yet I still liked it. The sense of flow that was felt throughout the show was supported by a good ol' Billy Breathes transition tune, Taste. Very nice version with quite a pretty jam surfacing in the middle of it. Bug came next, or shall I say "It Doesn't Matter" as I had written down. I did not know this tune either and was beginning to feel a bit out of touch. Those around me were beginning to lose faith in my "arcane Phish knowledge," that I tend to chalk up to you, but I would soon redeem myself, as you will see. In comparison to Get Back on the Train, I must say that this tune floated better with me. There seemed to be more musical interaction going on, in both a vocal and instrumental sense, but it would still be classified as one more of Phish's contemporary catchy tunes. For me though, it appeared to be trying to break out of that mold. Sparkle was fast and pretty ordinary, but still fun to bounce to. The transition to follow was a beautiful one. I love Tube and thought of you when I heard it. I know you are a fan too. Peaches and Tube and Trainsong, they all seem to hit the right spot especially in such a drastic transition. Pretty and a bit experimental it was as Trey used his boards a bit. The prior two and the three of this set to follow, sum up this band for me. They can play anything at seemingly any time and make it work. To go from the silly Sparkle to Tube and then into Lawnboy, the ultimate lounge tune for them, surely was a treat. For this rendition, I am not sure the last time it was done, but it was nice to see Page off of his crutches, able again to woo the crowd and his fellow musicians. I expected bluegrass next and that was what we got. Ginseng with a bit of guitar to remind me slightly of Jerry was what we got, and I thought the set would end there. I was wrong, but by no means disappointed. Even though I did not expect more, the set did not seem monotonous at all. The change ups and transitions and the band's overall wonderful vibe kept everyone dancing and screaming for more. Needless to say Twist and its "Woo"s danced right along with the crowd. After this 75 minutes, I had felt as satisfied as I have after entire shows. Set II I had mentioned in my review of the first set that I had redeemed myself from not knowing two of the tunes played. Even though they may have been new or just new to me, I still did not know them and there really is not excuse for that with one that has a brother like you, always letting me know what to hear. So onto the reasoning. After the initial set was through and the feet calmed down from dancing, we past the time sitting on the sweaty and sticky floor talking of music and nonsense while I observed the wonderful eccentrics all around me (one of my favorite aspects of the scene). I became lost in doing this until the lights were hit again. Everyone jumped up, shaked out their cramped legs, and got ready to once again dance and smile. I looked to Joe, but he, after hearing Carini as the opener, had no clue as to what this set's first would be. Just then, more out of desire and hope rather than thought, I yelled out, "Mike's". Not even three seconds later the band answered, "okay" with the tune's first notes loud and clear to all. The whole crowd then got involved with this discussion with such a deafening roar, that I had high hopes the first set may be outmatched by the next. Mike's Song is always a wonderful opener to any set of any show, yet since this song has such a high standard attached to it, phans easily think to themselves that they have heard better. I do not know about the rest of the crowd, but I have heard a lot of renditions of this tune, and I cannot remember one more powerful. The storm of a jam lasted a while and succeeded a bit. The notes that surfaced next caused me to regret not paying more attention to the half-time dancing and clapping. No, I am sorry, but I do not officially know the Meatstick dance. Half the crowd seemed to as this slightly reminiscent-of-the-macarena dance was danced. Yeah that was fun, but what came next was more for me. What have always loved about the Dead has been the seriousness in their music and in their mystical jams. The softer spacier jam that came next is always great to hear from the band since it does remind me of the Dead, but also because, like Tube in the first set, change ups from the Allman Bros style of jamming, which I like to think it reminds me of a runaway freight train, is sometimes a genius approach in live music, especially then. I Am Hydrogen played a big part in this. Page, Mike, Jon, and Trey would soon though, get back onto that freight train. It turns out that Mike was in the conductor seat this time and I must say even more so than with this set's opener. The intro to Weekapaug would last a bit too long for those anxious for the song's swaying to begin, but as soon as it opened up into the thick of the song, there was no stopping. It seemed as though even if the power was to have gone out at that moment, the band would have continued playing oblivious to it all and that was how strong this jam seemed. I was in my glory and in all the chaos I was compelled to scribble beneath "WEEKAPAUG" on my setlist scrap, "Holy Shit!". I thought that I should give that tune a paragraph all by itself. Brian and Robert would gracefully halt this train that kept popping up during this show. I love this song. It has to be a most attractive section to Story of A Ghost and the band nailed it. The band would come to a brief halt next to let Trey be a bit sentimental. He would take a time out to say something along the lines of "this is one of the best rooms we have ever played in." To follow this up he would treat us, the gracious crowd, to a new tune. "Jennifer Dances is what this one is called," he explained as the band quickly broke into the harmony of the tune. It was pretty, but not weak. It had the new and slightly more serious Phish feel to it, but definitely had a unique flavor with the emphasis very much on the lyrics. I need to hear it again to give it a fair judgment, but I can say that I liked it and want to hear it again. The next four tunes were a bit of a blur to me. This is not to say I was on any chemicals, for I was completely sober, but I suppose like that train again, and I apologize for beating this analogy into the dirt, the songs were four cars that seemed to slam into each other as if there was a wreck and their contents spilled and all mixed. Maze was what it is titled as the band toyed with the beginning, middle, and end structures to the song. They did this with confidence though and did not stop there. Fluffhead was then pulled out of nowhere and surely anywhere but someone's ass. The rendition of this classic was tight and the lyrics were on, from ". . . but I sure got some powerful pills!" to the concluding shouts of the name ". . . Fluffhead. . ." They could not stop here and even after. Chalkdust was whirlwind and Frankenstein would smash up anything that the whirlwind missed. I felt energized and at the same time, somewhat beaten, like one of the band members had grabbed my body and pulled it inside one of their amps. They seemingly did not want to stop Frankenstein. Trey got on his keyboard while Mike's bass reverberated and Page created some sort of sounds from some sort of depths of his instruments. Fishman would eventually get them back on track to end the show. Yet, even then I had no choice to scream with my lost voice for an encore. A fun Character Zero would get our tired feet dancing again and I thought that would be it. Wrong again. The crowd suddenly would lunge forward as the two-pronged microphone was brought out and the band stood crowded together erect and with hands behind their backs. Page made sure all four were in tune with some sort of flute and they sang to us, for us, Hello My Baby, and left without another sound. If I was losing any interest in the band prior to this show, I can no longer remember any of it. I am ready for Florida.
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