There is moment early in Sean Gibbon’s travelogue Run Like An Antelope where Gibbon tosses off a comment that informs this entire review. In describing his efforts to come to grips with Phish’s lyrics, he writes, "There is a book called the Phishing Manual that tries to explain some of these songs but even the manual itself in trying to explain these oddball lyrics, comes across as pretty oddball itself." Temporarily casting aside the fact that I wrote the book that he references (back to that in a moment), Gibbon’s commentary is significant because it raises the issue of context.

How does one chronicle the Phish experience? What are its essential components? What does one bring to bear? Moreover, once a book is written, in what context should it be critically assessed?

These distinctions are essential because the Pharmer’s Almanac, Phish Companion and Run Like An Antelope approach the band and its music from distinct planes of reference. The Phish Companion succeeds on its own terms as the ultimate, definitive print guide to the music of the band. The Pharmer’s Almanac carries itself with a much looser tone, as an effective, entertaining view from the bottom, one that considers the full trappings of the scene. Run Like An Antelope, by contrast, proves far less satisfying, as its author bridges too many worlds: from those of a gonzo journalist, to a sociologist, to someone who takes pleasure in the songs and performance of the band.

Now a brief disclosure. Since this reviews hinges on perspective I feel it is essential to lay out mine. Nearly five years ago Hyperion published my book, mentioned above, The Phishing Manual: A Compendium to the Music of Phish (and in case you’re curious, no this not self-promotion, my book is long out of print). My intent with the Manual was to focus on the band’s music, without talking about any of the elements that I considered to be extraneous (the lot-scene, etc.). I employed my training as a historian, viewing the contents of my tape collection as primary source documents. I tried to take the music seriously within its own frame of context, which certainly could be off-putting to those who didn’t choose to engage the music on that level, resulting in Gibbon’ quite reasonable comment. In turn, while assessing the three works that follow, I will attempt to consider them on their own terms.

I will begin with the Phish Companion which arrives amidst much ballyhoo, in some ways positioning itself as an anti-Almanac. The backstory here is that many of the board members responsible for the Companion feel that in 1995 the originators of the Almanac essentially downloaded a copy of the original on-line setlist file, the Helping Phriendly Book and then printed out the results. The charge is that the Almanac editors profited off the work of many volunteers, who put together the on-line setlist file as a free resource (I am sure it is not lost on many of you that the Phish Companion board initially dubbed itself the Mockingbird Foundation, an allegorical reference to the entity attempting to liberate the Helping Friendly Book).

In conjunction with this review, Almanac co-creator Andy Bernstein sent along a copy of the original Pharmer’s Almanac in an effort to dispel what he deems to be some myths relating to that original Almanac. Indeed, he is correct in his fundamental assertion that the Almanac never was a book solely consisting of setlists. The initial ninety-six page volume offers more than twenty pages of original content, including concert reviews, a brief biography, and a list of notable shows and stage moments. From the outset the Pharmer’s Almanac did not seek to garner readership solely on the basis of its setlists (going so far in that first edition as to offer free returns for anyone who purchased the book solely for that purpose).

On the other hand I think that even the Almanac creators would agree that relative to the appearance of setlists there was some element of sloppiness (or possibly even duplicity). In that initial Almanac (and is subsequent volumes as well), the authors address the claim that they simply lifted the setlist file from the HPB with a disclaimer that reads, "this book contains only those setlists which were verified by the editors and contributors to this book." However, if one looks at the accessibility ratings in the newest Almanac, by the publication’s own present admission, the creators have never seen a tape list with the 2/21/91 Trax show. Nonetheless a setlist from that show appears in the 1995 Almanac. If no one associated with the publication has yet located a copy of that show then where did the setlist originate? The answer, in all likelihood, is the HPB. A more detailed analysis could take place using the accessibility ratings in an earlier volume to tease out similar incongruities.

However, it is not my intent to pursue this any further, as frankly, for most individuals the debate is little more than a historical footnote (many of those who once cared have long since drifted out of the on-line community and on to other obsessions). Bottom line? Did the Almanac editors "take" the setlist file. More than likely. Were they less than forthright about it? Quite possibly. Was it within their legal right to so? Unquestionably (one cannot copyright information, although there is a doctrine called unjust enrichment, which I mention primarily because I went to law school so it’s in my head). Again, for most everyone out there, this is not a immediate, topical concern. In addition, the Almanac of today so deeply surpasses the original in intent and execution as to be a distinct entity onto itself.

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The Phish Companion is a nine hundred page tome spearheaded by the Mockingbird Foundation, the aforementioned on-line group loosely affiliated with the Phish.net. Hundreds of contributors have participated in its development, yielding exhaustive, enlightening results. In brief, this is the definitive encyclopedic resource if you obsess about the music of Phish.

The book’s strength lies in its clarity. While the Phish Companion is swollen with information, specific facts are easy to locate in one of five principal sections (Band, Songs, Shows, Taping and an Appendix). In addition, charts and graphs are interspersed throughout, typically offering relevant addenda to the subject at hand, reconfiguring information in novel ways.

Following a concise, efficient chronology the book begins in earnest. The song histories that follow, extend for more than two hundred pages, assessing and dissecting the appearance and development of both original songs and covers. My only slight gripe, arises from the latter entries as I might have liked a bit more on the original artists and performances (after all that’s how some people have come to be exposed to some rather satisfying music). The two interview sections that follow are notable both for their depth and breadth, highlighted by particularly eye-opening conversations with Richard "Nancy" Wright, Ben "Junta" Hunter and Kevin Shapiro. In addition, the descriptive statistics section runs for two hundred pages, offering most every permutation of query that you can imagine (and many you cannot).

Although there are more than 750 additional pages in this book it is inevitable that some will purchase the book just to own a bound collection of setlists. These persons will not be disappointed as the Companion offers the most extensive list of show dates and setlists yet to see print. In many eyes the crown jewel may be a re-identification of the 10/30/83 "Thriller show" commonly thought to be the band’s initial public performance. The Companion pinpoints that date as 12/2/83, and if you find that this distinction matters then without question this is the book for you. The lists themselves are presented in clear, concise manner, with minimal frills, yielding an elegance in presentation.

All in all, this is a serious exhaustive resource. Indeed, some might say that it is slightly too serious. The book’s epigram is supplied by Walt Whitman, alluding to an academic tone. Indeed, given the whimsy associated with the band one might expect slightly more humor within the work. This is not to say it isn’t there- in the show reviews, song histories and even in the nature of some statistics themselves, just that this aspect is downplayed. Still this is a minor quibble as many will hail the serious intent and scholarship that marks this book.

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Volume Six of the Pharmer’s Almanac is also an impressive work. Indeed but for the existence of the Companion it would garner the title of definitive Phish music guide. Moreover, this is a sweeping account of the band that carves out its own niche by chronicling the totality of the Phish experience. Its five hundred oversized pages swirl around the entire scene, embellishing facts and statistics with accounts of those individuals and collectives who maintain tangible relationships with Phish and its music.

The book is structured instinctively, offering accounts of individual songs, setlists and the band itself. The concise song histories list the lead vocalist and then identify three essential components: "inspiration," "musical evolution" and "rotation history." Many readers will likely appreciate the decision to incorporate show reviews into the setlist section, allowing for easy access and reference. Meanwhile, all of the work is enhanced by graphic design that effectively intersperses images of archival posters, photographs and other artwork.

The Almanac also is notable for its focus on those individuals and entities who enhance or complement the Phish experience. For instance, "From The Bottom" describes bands whose music might be appreciated by those who enjoy Phish. A second parallel section, "People in the Neighborhood," identifies and interviews noted scenesters.

On a critical note, at times the book feels slipshod. The reviews occasionally linger in the lot without any substantive comment on the music itself (although some readers may identify this as part of the book’s homespun charm). As with the Companion there are number of typos and misprints. In addition the paper quality seems slightly inferior when compared to volume 5, resulting in some dark and slightly blurry images.

Nonetheless the Pharmer’s Almanac benefits from a breezy, engaging tone and spirit. This aspect became apparent during my conversation with a jambands.com editor who was trying to decide which Phish resource he would read one day during lunch. He opted for the Almanac, explaining "When I sit down and eat, I don’t want to read an encyclopedia." While I might disagree with him, your mileage may vary. I am confident there are others who will prefer the playful nature of the Almanac.

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This leads me to the final book, Sean Gibbon’s Run Like An Antelope, which also aspires to examine the band in a humorous vein. In this work, Gibbon, a Burlington-based writer and editor, traces his 1999 summer tour as a Phish concertgoer. However, for a book ostensibly about the Phish experience, the band and its music is notably absent. While Gibbon invokes platitudes such as "Phish, sure, it’s not a band it’s a movement," he fails to tease out their meanings. Even if Run Like An Antelope is meant to be a pure comic escapade, Gibbon needs to address this matter on some level.

The author’s voice is also somewhat schizophrenic. Initially he references the work of Hunter S Thompson, adopting a hipster, gonzo guise in pronouncing, "I got to write this sucker. Couple thousand words a day is what I’m aiming for. Crank it out." However, despite the initial Thompsonsian tone, Gibbon often sits idly by, unwilling to interact with those who attend the shows, often functioning instead as a passive straight man to his friends’ curious behavior (which at times can be comical while at other times plain boorish).

The book is at its strongest when Gibbon assesses his surroundings with the keen eye of a journalist. For instance his snapshot of Burlington, rings true and induces laughter. Similarly, the title chapter ‘Run Like An Antelope" is by far the best in the book. It begins with the pronouncement, "The more I see Phish the more I want to see them. You’d think it would be just the opposite- that you’d get sick of it after a while." In this section, Gibbon works outward from his own experience to consider this essential contradiction and apply it to those individuals who are moved to travel by the band’s art. At times he also captures the flavor of life on the road for those particular modern-day restive youngsters with pioneer spirits, who define and embrace the frontier.

Due in part to his decision not to engage many of the participants Gibbon never touches on the full range of individuals and subcultures involved with the Phish experience. Instead he typically focuses on the easy targets, those bottom feeders and addled escapists who represent only a portion of the individuals who travel from show to show. Gibbon never seriously considers the tapers, the prep school hippies or the young professionals with steady employment who nonetheless find release and/or insight through the music of Phish. As a result his work ignores a meaningful contingent of Phish fan, as he makes little effort to understand those who would read books such as the Phish Companion and the Pharmer’s Almanac let alone those who would write them. This audience, and by association most jambands.com readers, will find his book irrelevant to their own experiences, embracing music and reveling in the realization that oddball is as oddball does.