by Rob Johnson

[Editor's note: Since this is the first time since 1989 that Phish did not perform on New Year's Eve, we offer up this essay from regular contributor Rob Johnson on the band's final show of the year (and possible the millenium depending on you take on that debate)]

THE SHORELINE EXPERIENCE

All I can say about the drive from Irvine to Mountain View is that it wasn't pretty. My companion and I had both been blown away by the previous night's madness, and to have to wake up at 7 AM the morning after and hit the road seemed like a crime against nature. Still, we had a lot of fun ahead of us, and our excitement and anticipation kept us alert on the otherwise mind-numbing drive through the Central Valley on I-5.

When we arrived in Mountain View, Dan the Man (the Host with the Most) already had his house fully operational as Phish Party Headquarters. Plentiful food and beer greeted the weary travelers from all over who were crashing at his place due to 1) Its proximity to Shoreline Amphitheater, and 2) The fact that Dan is really damn cool. Some Japanese heads that Dan encountered while following Phish in Japan had even made it over for the shows. Most of them spoke not a word of English, but they all seemed very excited and we all bonded through the universal language of music. I was already having fun, and the show hadn't even started yet.

Living in Atlanta, most of the outdoor shows I see are at Lakewood Amphitheater, a soulless summer shed with surly staff, poor sound, and surroundings that could politely be described as uninspiring. Shoreline is the anti-Lakewood. Everything from the gorgeous setting amongst rolling hills to the friendly staff and circus tent motif made me instantly understand why Phish chose to wrap up their tour here.

ENTER THE SPACE FUNK

The first set was very good, with an excellent version of Stash being the high point for me. I have never been a big Heavy Things fan, and the choice of HT as second set opener was one of several weak spots that made the second set maddeningly inconsistent at times. But when it was good, OH MOMMA! Down With Disease was utterly fantastic, delivering raw power and dynamic interplay. A dark, lyrical interlude gave way to a searing jam about halfway through, which ignited when Trey hit one of the fattest notes I've ever heard. Seek out the tapes, and you will know what I mean.

v As a big Talking Heads fan (personal note to the band: THANK YOU FOR HALLOWEEN 1996!) I loved the extra-funky version of Cities, which morphed effortlessly into a version of Sand that was being called the best ever before the show was even over. About halfway through the jam, Phish hit on a sustained, driving groove, with Trey layering savage guitar runs over the top. Trey, Page and Fishman all added lots of color and texture, with Mike keeping the bass pumping, staying close to the Sand groove but changing it up slightly. It was a spectacular demonstration of on-the-fly group improvisation, and everyone would be talking about it after the show.

This was when the concept of Space Funk From The Future started forming in my head. This Sand jam, as well as some of the better moments from Irvine, wasn't just good: It was something even better, it was different. There was something undeniably futuristic to the sound, yet it was rooted in a strong, primal beat that is as old as music itself. All of Phish's recent experimentation with ambient, electronica-influenced sounds suddenly seemed to click into place, and it all made perfect sense. The result would have been equally at home in a dance club or as soundtrack music for a sci-fi film, and I was loving every note of it.

INTERLUDE

After the show we headed back to Dan's and, thanks to the many tapers in attendance, proceeded to listen to the entire show again from start to finish. Maze, Antelope, DWD, and Sand were clearly the people's choice as best jams of the show, and we were all struggling to find words to describe Sand. I cannot say enough good things about a band that, on the verge of taking a major hiatus after 17 years of playing, can still come up with music that defies description. Even though the band must have been on the verge of exhaustion, there was a restless creativity to this show that is the hallmark of Phish at their very best.

The next morning was a little rough, but hey, we didn't have to drive anywhere, so it was all good. Dan and a host of willing volunteers proceeded to whip up some breakfast for the motley assortment of folks who were groggily rising from their tents/campers/couches. After we had been awake for a while, it began to dawn on everyone: Today was the day. Later tonight, Phish would play for the last time in the foreseeable future. Considering that some of these people had seen Phish over 100 times, a major part of their lives was about to go away, and they had very mixed feelings about the whole thing.

Almost immediately, rumors started flying. One guy who shall remain nameless stated emphatically that Phish had obtained a special permit to play until 2:45 AM. Another was equally certain that there would be three sets, with one of them being an album. Speculation ran wild, and in retrospect the one thing that was notably absent from the predictions was what actually happened: A standard, if abnormally powerful, two set show.

A nice backyard jam session with Dan's band got everyone excited for the show, although the Mountain View police took a dim view and told us to turn it down. By the time everyone left for the lots, the excitement and tension in the air was palpable. Something very special was about to happen, and we were all invited.

THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

Everyone who has been to a Phish show knows that the parking lot is a big part of the scene. Colorful people selling colorful clothing, spontaneous jam sessions, car stereos blaring, and of course, quite a bit of drugs. If the lot scene at a "normal" Dead or Phish show is a spectacle, the scene in the lot for the last Phish show at Shoreline was like a cross between Mardi Gras, Bike Week at Daytona, and the coolest, grooviest Rainbow gathering ever. Words like moderation simply had no place here, as everyone was letting it all hang out. After all, in a very real sense THERE WAS NO TOMORROW. Why hold on to that extra vial when Phish was playing THE LAST SHOW tonight? I shudder to think what prison, morgue, or insane asylum I would be in today if I had accepted everything that was offered to me at Shoreline. (apologies to Hunter Thompson, "Fear And Loathing At The Super Bowl")

I have never been that good at "calling" songs at shows, but ever since I arrived in California I had been confidently predicting that Phish would open their last show with First Tube, and I finally got one right! This, to me, is the best opener Phish has in their arsenal, pure energy from the word go, and nothing else would do to open such a historic show. This version did not disappoint, and gave me another glimpse of the Space Funk >From The Future during the jam. A perfect combination of steady groove and sharp peaks, it got the crowd involved immediately, and built up an incredible amount of energy in the crowd.

Some phans don't like songs like Sand and First Tube because they are "repetitive," but everyone from Native American shamans to James Brown knows how powerful repetition can be when used properly. One of the reasons that I enjoyed these versions so much, and consider them the first inklings of a possible new direction for Phish, was Page's excellent keyboard work. He was making the best use of his many synthesizers, producing elaborate textures that kept the songs from getting boring without intruding too much on the groove. Count me among the phans who think that Page needs to be more assertive, and thankfully, he was at these last shows.

LAST SET EVER?

My friend Lori and I managed to get down front for the second set, and our excitement could barely be contained. The Twist opener was fairly cool, taking the jam in some interestingly mellow and, dare I say, Grateful Deadesque directions. As the song started winding down, Trey activated his loop effects, which always starts phans buzzing. Soon afterward, Fishman laid down an amazingly heavy backbeat that made it abundantly clear that we were entering 2001 territory.

As anyone who has ever been to a show with me knows, I am a huge 2001 fan, and the version at Chula Vista was less than stellar, so I had been hoping they would revisit this classic jam vehicle. The energy in the crowd began building to outrageous levels, and when the band brought the hammer down the first time, with the usual awesome light support from Kuroda, the place went berserk. Led by Mike's ridiculously phat bass work, they coasted into a sweet funk jam, and once again entered Space Funk Land. Page had some great keyboard sounds going on, and the similarities to the jams in Sand and First Tube seemed very strong indeed.

When the band came back around for a second pass at the 2001 theme, Trey showed some true Jedi action on guitar, summoning enormous sheets of feedback that seemed to echo off the distant hills behind Shoreline. The big finish was incredible, and led right into Tweezer without so much as a pause. I had never seen Tweezer before and had been praying for it all week, so this was the point where I stopped being an impartial, if passionate, observer, and became a tiny drop of water in ocean of light and music.

By halfway through the Tweezer jam, the band went into a dark interlude that epitomizes what I mean by Space Funk From The Future. In fact, I have caused some confusion among my friends by labeling it thus on the tapes I have made for them. I had the distinct impression of the band taking the audience on a journey, and all categories of music ceased to exist as I was swept away to another place. At one point, I remember wondering "What will this sound like on tape?" I was in such a transcendent state that I didn't trust my ability to judge, although it sounded and felt amazing.

Well, the tapes are in, and that is some WAY OUT stuff, my friends. If this really does represent a potential new direction for Phish, it is one I would welcome wholeheartedly. As one person said on phish.net, the band was truly combining to make one sound, not four. Dark and intense, this jam went places that I have never heard Phish go, which is something when you are talking about a band that has played so many shows. Once again, Page deserves some props, as his spooky monster-movie keyboard sound was the perfect choice for this jam.

I have played the ending jam of this version of David Bowie for everyone from grizzled Phish veterans to people who have never heard the band before, and they have all been amazed and dumbfounded by the raw energy and formlessness of it. One friend, unfamiliar with Phish, said that this jam sounded like "they are creating a whole new kind of music." That may seem like hyperbole to some, but it is a remarkable jam nonetheless, and its energy flowed into a pounding, massive version of Tweezer Reprise that tore the roof off the sucka and left a smoking crater of my mind. (It's okay, I like it blown away)

When the band left the stage after Tweeprise, the rumor mill started spinning again. Would they play another full set? What about special guests? When the band finally emerged, it was to play a standard one-song encore. Some people were upset with this, feeling that the occasion deserved something more ceremonial. Personally, I don't understand how anyone at this show could have complained if they had stopped after Tweezer Reprise. Look at the setlist for this show, and imagine that it was a "normal" Phish show. I think most fans would agree that it would be one of the hottest, if not THE hottest, two set shows of the band's history. Plus, the encore was yet to come.

Some people have heard You Enjoy Myself so many times that they can't even enjoy it anymore. I feel for them, because this is one of the greatest songs in the history of music, and I expect to get tired of it right around the same time I get tired of breathing. The difficult composed parts were all hit with style and precision, Trey nailed the Big Note, and the funk jam at the end featured a rare Fishman drum solo and plenty of dance-party energy. At one point, my section was dancing so hard, and the music was pumping so powerfully, that is was a lot like being at a rave. Once again, Phish had transcended musical boundaries and brought together several diverse styles into a harmonious whole, and I was again transported to someplace far away.

After the vocal jam was over, my friend Lori said that she thought the band was singing the words "You Will Remember Me." At the time, I reacted the same way most of you probably would: "SURE they did, Lori, whatever you say. Next time, only take a half, okay?" However, I have to say upon listening to the tapes that this may actually be true. If you could speed up the vocal jam, I feel that these words would be fairly easy to discern. At normal speed, they were so drawn out that many people complained that they were "just humming," but listen to it again with this in mind and you may be surprised. If this was intentional and thought out on the band's part, give them points for creativity above and beyond the call of duty.

AFTERMATH

When the show ended, some people were caught off guard, still awaiting a third set that never came. However, there was a beautiful moment as the crew started breaking down the stage to the wise words of the Beatles "Let It Be." It started slowly at first, with a few people applauding the efforts of the crew. Eventually it spread to a rousing, heartfelt ovation, with the fans showering much-deserved love on all the people who make the Phish experience possible. I was reminded that, despite the troubles that have come with the growth of Phish's fan base, the majority of Phish fans are very cool people, and I felt happy to be with such gracious and loving folks.

At Dan's house afterwards, the mood could only be described as sustained euphoria. Not even the second visit of the day from the friendly men and women of the Mountain View police force could dampen the festivities, as we cheerfully agreed to turn down the music. Our new Japanese friends, as I expected, were positively giddy about the Japanese lyrics in Meatstick, and I don't think they could believe how much fun they had just had. There were all sorts of cute cross-cultural moments throughout the weekend, but the following has to be my favorite.

An American fan noticed one of the Japan crew wearing the exact same T-shirt as him, and pointed this out to the Japanese Phish-head. He immediately recognized that the shirts were the same, and started laughing merrily. He then pulled the American fan close to him, and after pointing back and forth between the two shirts, he managed to say "We brother!" This inspired an onlooker to wax rhapsodic about the cultural exchange that had taken place, prompting him to exclaim "Man, I bet that no house party in the US has more Japanese kids than this one right now. We're breaking down cultural barriers and shit, man!"

Of course, there were a few people who were saddened by the fact that it was really, truly over. For the most part, though, folks partied until dawn with the greatest show they had ever seen still ringing in their ears. As the party started to wind down, I began thinking about how music can help people transcend their mundane lives. By uniting in harmony with the music, and with thousands of other people, we can get away from all the little petty annoyances of being an individual for a few moments and get a glimpse of a greater truth. It may sound corny, but it's true. Since the dawn of time, human beings have used music as a way to communicate with the divine and get to a place where, in the words of John Lennon, "ignorance and hate, they won't pertain." And one night at Shoreline Amphitheater, thanks to the Space Funk From The Future, I got to that place, and the view sure was nice.