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What is in the Basement!
by Dan Dabrowski

So I had only been living here for nearly a week, yet the moment had been long anticipated. I was quick to label those few mid-August days the encore of my three year sojourn in Connecticut, and it was quite a way to finish three years of heavy partying and music loving. The anticipated day was August 12, 1998. Phish plus Vernon Downs equalled a dozen and a half kids 16-18 years old christening the overwhelming look, smell, and feeling of loneliness that accompanied the brand new house.

Onward we pranced, merrily to the venue, and lived our night to the fullest... the people, the weather, and most of all the music... my companions were not exactly the phishiest of phish heads... face it, a few of them were there just for the party. Inside the concert, in the middle of a great first set, my friends started slipping into their goon mode. Yelling curses at different people they saw, laughing at others unlike themselves... I knew right away maybe it was a bad idea to bring some of the kids I brought. They did not know diddily squat about Phish, yet they knew how to wreck the good vibes that encompassed the whole scene. When I asked them as politely but firmly as possible to quit going out of their way to give other people a piece of their hell, they retorted with a devilish gaze upon their eyes. "How dare you even try and wreck my good time!" they snarled, resembling goblins of many moons ago.

Later on in the show a middle aged lady cut in front of my friends in me in our little dancing spaces and spilled beer all over us. We did not appreciate the lack of courtesy this lady displayed. After more beer was spilled, a few of my friends decided to see if this lady would react to them spitting on her back. She did not notice their course of action, for she was too busy complaining to her friend about how she was upset that Phish had not yet played the only song of theirs that she liked... "That one I heard on the radio that one time". Honest to all things holy, she was complaining about that. Again I noticed a couple big phlegm balls trickle their way down the back of her shirt. I shrugged it off.

The three carloads of happy frappy teenagers arrived back to my house between 1:30 and 2:30 a.m. Everyone stayed up for a half hour or so to share personal stories of the people they met and experiences they had. One by one my friends dispersed to different reaches of my vast house, finding bedspace, couchspace, or decent floor to crash on. I ended up passing out cold on the couch in the basement and had the pleasure of waking up bright and early.

I was not sure if I was simply tripping off my gordon, or what lay before my two sleep-deprived eyes was a reality. I quitely made my way upstairs to the kitchen and fixed myself a bagel with cream cheese, when again the image appeared in my head. "It's no big deal at all," I reasoned, "it is good to be helping them out."

Midway through my first half bagel, I was interrupted by my meathead-of-a- friend. "Dan!" he panicked, "Did you see that in your basement! They must have broken in or somethin' overnight! Want me to shoo them out?!"

I kept my cool and refused to lose my head, and told my meathead-of-a-friend not to worry. "I'm sure they are nice people and that there is nothing to worry about."

Four more of my preppy friends confronted me within the next 15 minutes. "We are really worried," they explained, "and we believe you should take immediate action."

I put it off, only knowing there sure was a perfectly normal explanation. When I finally had built up the nerve, I decided to bring the issue up to my brother, who has a year and a half of age on me.

"Brother," I said, "you shall explain to me the explanation of the unexplainable." "Worry you not," he answered, "that is merely Soandso, with whom I worked last summer, and his girlfriend. Hence, I see no reason for explanation."

Hours later the mysterious hippies awoke and accepted coffee and breakfast and shunned a shower for they were on their way to Maine.

Boy did I feel like a fool. Not only had I worried about the fact that two more welcome friends joined our place of sleep, I also let my friends get out of hand... I estimate that for each of my friends, they had taken 4 or 5 trips downstairs to stare at the nice folks that used our house as a B&B.

Lemonwheel came around and my brother came across these two friends. They told him of how they noticed everyone seemed to be staring at them. They made it as no big deal, but I personally think it made them feel awkward in a way.

Reflecting upon this, I am forced to ponder one thing. I admit that I have only done enough to make the situation worse, but I still worry about this. I have come to believe that the unearthing of some of these jam bands to the mainstream audience could potentially be dangerous. As I have told about my friends at the concert and back at my house, I realize that something is definitely amiss. These kids do not have the respect for other people that you assume everyone has when you go to one of these shows. Neither does the beer spilling lady. But are those the only problems?

I also notice this is a larger scale problem than my own eyes have seen. At the two Dave Matthews Band concerts at the Hartford Meadows this summer, I also noticed the large crowd consisted of a lot of people who were there for reasons other than music and a good time. I witnessed at least a half dozen fights between the two days. Also I saw disrespect from person to person in the parking lots, one guy thought he was funny by throwing empty and broken beer bottles at a car a couple dozen feet away, and other Random Acts of Disrespect. Most of the people I saw engage in these primitive acts of competition were clad in the clothes of mainstream bands if not trying to strut their muscles. I took it to hear that there was so much friction between people. Maybe I am overreacting, these are still havens of peace in the most part. But the more in mainstream popularity, I for some reason notice the more in negative vibes.

HOWEVER...

I am observant by nature, so there is one final question I have to leave you with:

Am I right in saying that the more these bands go mainstream, the more acts of stupidity their crowds partake in, possibly leading in another Grateful Dead at Deer Creek type riot? Or, for that matter, anything that could totally misrepresent the bands and their true fans?

~OR~

Am I just as bad as I believe those I criticize are? Meaning, am I showing the lack of tolerance that I am so outwardly downplaying? How hypocritical am I being? Do these people not have the same right to attend these shows as anyone else?

THE ANSWER

The answer is one that I know not. Maybe it is something that you will ponder next time you are bored and on the toilet. Maybe it is something you already have a strong stance on. Hell, maybe it is something you really don't give two damns about. Anyhow, it is just something I thought about. Hell, maybe it is something you should think about.

---

Dan Dabrowski is a high school student in Manlius, NY. He has lived in the Midwest, New England, and Upstate New York and will take the time to travel a few hours to shows, even if it is to check out bands that he has heard about but never has heard before.