A Brief History of Seeing Phish

"This could be the last time
This could be the last time
May be the last time, I don't know"

Part 1: October 1989 - Poughkeepsie, NY

Like so many things, I first saw Phish on a whim. For many years, there had been a big party at Bard College on Halloween. The newly appointed "Dean of Drug and Alcohol Abuse"[1] Beth Frumkin, tried to reign in the legendary excesses of the party. What was there to do instead? A Vermont student named Jasmine had an idea. She gave my friend Seth her copy of Junta to review for the Bard Observer. After he listened to it, he suggested to people in general - and me in particular - that the show at the Chance in Poughkeepsie would be the best choice for a hippie (rhymes with...) Halloween. That wasn't quite enough for me to decide to go, but my favorite Bard band was opening. In a statement that would amuse me a lot down the road, I suggested to Shooky Bones's guitarist that these Phish people should perhaps open for them. I was told to just wait until I saw Trey play. On October 28th, 1989 - in a half filled club in Poughkeepsie - I would do so for the first time.

I would love to claim that I saw this first show and was blown away. That, alas, would be a lie. The show opened with "I Didn't Know" > "You Enjoy Myself," but I still wasn't impressed. There was a "Divided Sky." It did nothing for me. There was an early "Reba." I barely remember it. During "Colonel Forbin's Ascent" Trey told us that, "Some of you might be confused about what's going on," and proceeded to tell the Gamehendge story. I wasn't confused before that - I assumed it was just another song - but I was afterwards. Very possibly, this first show would have also been my last show for years... until the second set closer.

Trey was telling a second story. This one involved a cat. There was some mystery about the cat's name. "No it's not 'Fluff,' it's the name that I gave you, the special name...[this went on for another 3 or 4 minutes or so]... POSTER NUTBAG" "Poster Nutbag?" I figured I had misheard it. Between that and the midstory line about Poster jumping off of "the white... corduroy... shelf," I was intrigued. I bought Junta (then only available in tapes that they sold at shows), hoping that "Fluffhead" was the song that intrigued me, because of the "It's not Fluff" line. It would be another year before I found out that that song was called "Harpua." It would be two years after that until I got one on tape. What I had was a copy of a tape. This tape had a song called "The Divided Sky" on it and I was going to fall in love with it. Only the fact that I got a "Harpua" - even then not a common song - caused me to buy Junta, only the fact that I bought Junta kept me going to shows. Coincidence or destiny?

Part 2: September 2000 - Seattle, WA

"Never hear your voice again"

In early September, I was talking to my friend Gina. A Wiccan, she was telling me about how the cycle of life corresponded with the seasons. As fall approached, her thoughts were leaning towards death. If she had talked to more Phish fans, she would have learned that she was not alone. The announcement of an upcoming break of indeterminate length had spooked people. The vagueness of the plans - in large part due to Phish's issues with long term planning - made things worse. Would this be a year long break? A two year break? There was plenty of speculation, but as I prepared to fly to Chicago, few facts.

After summer tour, my mind was filled with thoughts of seeing more shows. With each setlist, I winced, knowing that I should have been there. My excitement increased. When I started my traditional pre-tour moratorium [2], I was out of control. I amused my friends with my constant countdown to tour... well if "amused" means bugged the crap out of them. September 21 rolled around. One more day! I didn't know how to contain my joy. Fate conspired to help me there.

On an interview at jambase, Tom Marshall said "As for "break" vs. "break-UP"....I can't help you. I wish I knew. They seem equally likely to me unfortunately." The news spread like wildfire throughout the Phish community. Instead of whooping about the upcoming shows, I was worried about whether there would be any shows. Between Project Mockingbird and Phish Stats, a lot of my projects revolve around this band. A perhaps unhealthy amount of my personal identity is based on the existence of Phish. What would I do if they went away?

Part 3: March 1992 - Providence, RI

I had just graduated from Bard College, and good fortune caused me to enter the post-collegiate world in the middle of a recession. I tried to find a job, or at least I tried to try to find a job. My mother and I were having personality clashes; her way of trying to pressure me to look harder for a job was only persuading me more to blow off the job search. It was not going well. By a mutual unspoken agreement, when the Dead toured the northeast, I left my parents' home. Where was I going? Long term I had no plans - the journey would eventually lead me to months of bumming around Bard, wrecking my car, being allowed to go back to Baltimore due to my NMSU graduate stipend, and the infamous move to Las Cruces. That was the long term. The short term plan was to see some Grateful Dead shows.

Tour was going reasonably well. I was having little problem getting tickets. They brought back "Satisfaction" at the Capitol Centre. Life looked like Easy Street, Nassau Coliseum was at my door.

I have only been shut out of four Dead shows. In Pittsburgh '89, I was walking around the lots, talking to people, when I met this girl. It was her first show. She had quit her job to go there. She was doing it in honor of her friends who had front row tickets, who were strong Deadheads, who were now dead in a car accident. She couldn't find anyone she knew. The show was completely sold out. I finally gave her my ticket. She needed it more than me. In Boston '93, I was a block away from my friend who had the ticket. The other two times I have been shut out were my two attempts at seeing a show at the Nassau Coliseum.

The Long Island night was turning bitterly cold. I ducked into a hotel room to try to stay warm. There were 10 people in the room already. Not content to stop there, people starting bringing in dogs, they started doing drug deals. I was far from surprised when management came and requested the absence of our presence. "Typical stupid hippies," I sighed as I went to make a new plan. A quick check of my (as then unnamed) Phish newsletter revealed that there were shows in Providence. I called my friends Sue and Kathy. It was ok for me to stay there. A plan! Whoo!

Upon arriving at the Campus Club, I was given the unpleasant news that the show was sold out. Fortunately I got someone to sell me a face value ticket within minutes of arriving. I got to hear Mike explain why they no longer played "Slave to the Traffic Light" - it sounded too much like "Dark Star." I had someone explain to me the new "Secret Language." Doors opened and I got out of the cold.

The Campus Club had rearranged itself since I had last been there. The stage was now on the east side of the room instead of the south side. It seemed to open up a bit more space that night. I was excited to hear some of the new tunes ("Maze" and "Mound") in the first set. When the set closing "Antelope" started, I knew I was much happier than I would have been sitting outside in a parking lot.

The insanity that was this "Antelope" was brought on by Chris. When he turned the lights down to a softer red, the band also brought the jam down. "Wow, an extended jam," I thought. Little did I know that this jam would soon resolve itself into "BBFCFM." Eventually to be called "Run Like A Big Black Furry Antelope From Mars," the song went in and out of the two songs. At one point, a vocal jam ensued, as it was suggested that we go to Hawaii. To this day, I thank the fates that turned a shutout from Nassau into seeing one of the all time classic Phish moments.

Part 4: September 2000 - Chicago, IL

I spent the flight into Chicago reflecting on the impending potential breakup. The one advantage of such a break would be that for the remaining part of the tour, every song would be special. It's much harder to moan about yet another "Cavern," when each version played could be the final one. That was the attitude I tired to convey going into these shows.

When I arrived at Chez J'eliz, the first thing I did was check my email. I was pointed to a retraction of the earlier remarks. By breakup, Tom Marshall merely meant "extended break." That was an extremely unfortunate slip.

I begged and pleaded for us to arrive early at the Horizon, and it turned out that I was wise to do so. The parking attendants directed us around one corner, around a second corner, and out of the parking lot. We were able to turn around fortunately and eventually did find a spot - the last spot in an overflow lot. I talked to many people who missed chunks of the show due to this.

The owners of the Horizon missed a prime marketing opportunity. They sold the naming rights to an insurance company. What were they thinking? With the pretty translucent blue windows and the fact that it desperately needs to be expanded, there is but one clear name for this venue: The iMac Arena.

The first show opened up with a monstrous "Down With Disease." This song by itself would have made the trip back east worthwhile. After a few songs that I don't like that much, "Slave to the Traffic Light" was played. During the jam section, all of my break up fears went away. Beauty this powerful just can't vanish for no reason. The universe isn't nearly that cruel and mean.

From the stage, the Phish crowd must be exceedingly annoying. There you are, playing your heart out, and what do the fans do? They hold up signs demanding that you play songs that you are sick of? This night was different though. As "Meatstick" came to a close, the band started playing the riff quieter and quieter. The crowd sang along with this. The band stopped playing completely, leaving the crowd to sing the chorus. Three times through the crowd went, the last time after Trey signaled to go around once more. It was an amazing moment. Not demanding more songs, or a different song, the crowd was just celebrating the songs that were written. If Phish werethinking about quitting, that would make them pause.

Intermission: Lessons I have learned from Phish

• It is possible to take a nap during "Lizards" and wake up completely refreshed. In fact it might be the perfect song to do that during. It's long enough for a nap, you know you won't miss anything unique, and if you wake up halfway, hey, they're playing "Lizards" and that's a good song.
• In the short run, you don't have to eat, you don't have to sleep, but you definitely have to do one or the other.
• Checking the oil in your car is a good thing.
• The crowd seeing a band in a bar is frequently worse than the most horrid stadium crowd. At least the latter group has some interest in seeing the band.
• If the only headlights you have are your brights, stay off of 2 lane highways.
• Do not vend in Minneapolis without a license.
• Never tell Page that you cut off "Lawn Boy" while making copies of that tape for people (so it will fit on one side of a 90). He has a long memory and will mock you for it forever.
• It is possible to succeed beyond your wildest dreams and not become jerks.

Part 5: March 1993 - Colorado and California

This was not one of Phish's better ideas. A March Colorado tour seemed like an ok idea, but only if you've never been there in March. The drive to Vail was one of the most stressful in my life. Just outside of Santa Fe, I hit a freak blizzard that caused literally a foot of ice to form on the underside of my car in about 20 minutes. While other disasters befell, the most surreal was the suicidal dog on I-70. I was just getting outside of Denver, when a dog came bounding at me. I tried to swerve out of its way, but it swerved with me. I sideswiped it, but the car behind me was unable to swerve. Before the show, I told Mike about this. They played "Possum" that night. Ummm thanks.

The night that makes this run legendary though was after the Boulder show. I talked some rmp'ers into giving me some floor space to crash on. My friend Alisha though asked me a favor. Could I instead give her a ride to Minturn (about 5 miles outside of Vail). A friend of hers would let us crash there. Hey a crash space is a crash space, so I said ok. Unfortunately, the person we were staying with was a tad on the intoxicated side. Four of us ended up sleeping in a Geo Metro in -10 weather. When the day finally broke, we went back to Vail to get some breakfast. Apparently we projected a "They've been sleeping in their car all night" look, because the owners of the diner kept giving us free food. "Want some banana bread? It's right out of the oven."

After surviving that, the foot of snow that fell during the Gunnison show, and the US 550 section of the drive, it was time for some warmth. Tour first went to Phoenix and then to LA. If there's one thing I miss about early 90's tour, it it this. In Phoenix, when I knew my money was running low, I saw Trey walking outside the venue. "Hey Trey, want to put me on the guestlist for Hollywood? I can completely understand if you say no." "Oh sure, no problem." It's not that I was special or something mind you. It just was a smaller scene then and every now and then they didn't mind helping out people who were on the road with them.

Around the time I hit the California line, my riders (No, not Alisha. No names will be given.) and I were having, let us say, personality conflicts. It started when they described what would be their dream ride. I'm not going to describe that in this family magazine. Then at the University of Redlands, they were screaming out "comments" at the women on campus. They didn't understand why I had an issue with that. They would only be with me for two more nights; I should be able to handle that.

Arriving early for the Hollywood show, I got to experience something else which has more or less gone away these days - actually being able to hear the soundcheck. The memorable part of this check was hearing a song that went "I never met a man I couldn't remember until Guy Forget." Mind you, it wasn't that clear. I asked a member of the crew what they were playing, and he explained the line and the spelling to me.

After the show - due to another crash plan falling apart because I had riders - I was forced into a 15 people in a hotel room situation. We got separated from our group and got lost. While stopped at a red light in Hollywood, one of my riders saw a man standing on the street corner... in Hollywood... at 2 AM. He figured that would be a good person to ask for directions.

"Excuse me, do you know where..."

The man screamed at some people down the road, "GET THEM!" Two men - with their hands in their jacket pockets - came running at us. I floored it. "Why'd you do that man?" came the cry from the back. "They just wanted to sell us some cocaine." Even if that were somehow the case, I'm not convinced LA coke dealers are the best people to be hanging out with late at night. Needless to say, I traveled to Redlands alone.

Part 6: September 2000 - Las Vegas, NV

Many people complain about the interstate highway system. The nationalization of local culture, the breaking down of regional differences, the mainstreaming of everything - all of this is blamed on black asphalt. The people who make these claims do have a point. When it's easy to travel from LA to Tuscaloosa, people will make that journey, and the two towns will become similar. However, I have a small request for people who tend to make that claim. Drive from Phoenix to Las Vegas. Long before you get to Wikieup (little Suzie, Wikieup), you'll be wishing that someone built a 4 laner through Mohave County. One you get past the sprawl of Phoenix - which goes on for some 43 miles past downtown - US 60 looks like a reasonably fast road. Once you hit Wickenburg though, it starts to creep. Up and down the mountains goes this two lane road. The speed limit on this road is 65, but going 40 is more probable as there are a lot of trailers and trucks trying to get to Las Vegas. You better not get hungry or thirsty or run out of gas. The 73 miles between Wickenburg and Wikieup offer nothing at all. If there were no traffic, it would be a glorious drive. Drive this stretch at 3 AM and you do feel like you're the only person in the world.

After getting past the little stretch of I-40 (Whoo! Speed Limit 75!), 93 is pretty sensible. Drive goes quickly until you discover that...

...someone built a major tourist attraction literally in the middle of the highway. One of these days I want to find out who thought it was a good idea to route the only road between Vegas and Phoenix over the Hoover Dam. I have to know the rationale behind that move.

I arrived in Las Vegas only about 90 minutes later than I expected to. I was able to check in and relax for a few minutes before changing into my costume and driving to the T&M. On the drive over, I learned something important. It, in fact, is possible to be too clever. I drove down to the venue, with my map in hand, looking for shortcuts. What I found was three different cool back ways into the venue, none of which work. If I had just gone the direct route, I would have been in about a half hour quicker. So much for cleverness.

After boggling over the complete lack of a parking fee, and the complete inanity of the setup to get into the venue (one open entrance?!?!!), it was time to go in. Somehow I managed to find my friends inside the show - right next to the Phunky Bitch gathering that I also had hoped to go to. Sometimes these things work out.

The music of the first night was overshadowed by one thing - Kid Rock's appearance. I'm not as quick to brush it off as a joke in the spirit of Vegas as Mr. Bertolet is. The more I heard about what he said (I couldn't hear well inside the venue), the less I liked it. My own theory is that Kid Rock is just a persona and Trey knows him well enough to see through it. It looked like the classic case of "I know what he means; why can't you see that?" I doubt that even Trey knew just how far he was going to go. It was an experiment. You can't blame them for trying it, but let's never have it happen again, ok?

I woke up early the next morning. Morning in Vegas with no plans until 2 PM? Guess it's time to gamble. The existence of casinos nationwide has forced Las Vegas to change its business model. Instead of having cheap hotels and food in order to lure people into the casinos, they now have high payouts at the casinos to lure people into the hotels. The new theory seems to be that if people win $40 on the slot machines, they won't notice as much that their room cost $150. Slot machines are now set to 98% payoffs [3]; blackjack cheat cards - once something that would have resulted in forced eviction - are for sale in the Circus Circus gift shop. Do they want you to lose a bit of money there? Yes. They just don't want you to lose a lot of money.

After spending the $50 I won on riding the New York New York roller coaster... well and throwing the rest of it in slot machines... I noticed that Las Vegas managed the near impossible. Only New York City can impose its identity to the degree that Vegas managed. When on tour, all cities combine into one. Vegas remains itself.

Part 7: May 1994 - Dallas, TX

Oh those wonderful Las Cruces years. "Phish are playing Texas! Whooo! Local show!" On the 700 mile drive, I listened to the not nearly well known enough 8/14/93 second set. If only we could get something nearly as cool as that "Antelope." Little did I know what was to come.

I assume by now that anyone who cares about the Tweezer Fest already knows about it, so I'm not going to review it here. However, I do have some Bomb Factory fun facts.

Of the 2700 tickets that could have been sold for this show, only 2000 were sold. Like so many of Phish's best shows, the venue was only 3/4 full.

This is the show that caused the band to start calling me "The Timer." So many of the interesting events that would happen in June have their origin on this date.

Until I got back from the Austin show on the 9th, no one on the net knew about this show. I was the first person to post about it - which led to the whole GWA controversy[4]. Phish might have been the first internet band, but they were also the last pre-internet band. Part of the reason why I am writing this, is that these shows did manage to happen in secrecy. Nowadays a band can't get to be as big as String Cheese Incident or the Disco Biscuits without everyone knowing about them. The feeling of being onto a secret is one that I miss, not enough to destroy the net, but it's something to lament.

Part 8: October 2000 - Phoenix, AZ

"And someone else will set your clocks"

I drove back to Phoenix, thinking some more about the nature of the desert. If I thought I could handle living in a small desert town again, I would love to buy one of the parcels of land being sold on the side of the road. The desert is a sacred place to me and I'd love to be able to spend more time there someday... this time without going insane. As much as I love Seattle, the searing heat and the roaring thunderstorms interest me much more than 53 degrees and drizzle. What can you expect from the kind of person who drives through Arizona with the windows down and the AC off? 105 isn't nearly hot enough to need AC.

Desert Sky was a reassertion of normality. After being in a place that could only be Las Vegas, Desert Sky could be Deer Creek could be Shoreline. Only the palm trees on the side of the stage made it clear that we were not still on summer tour in the midwest.

While the first set had nothing too spectacular, I'll put the first forty minutes of the second set with any Phish I have heard. The "Piper" jam was unique. After singing some "Ooooooooooh"s, the band suddenly sang a line that sounded somewhat familiar. "I never met a man I didn't remember until Guy Forget." It was the soundcheck from the Palace in 1993.

"Guy Forget" was a form of closure of sorts. The other shoe dropped after a seven year pause. At the time it felt like a joke aimed at me. One of the most obscure songs in Phish's history was being played (Apparently at least one soundcheck with the song does circulate, but I've never seen it.), I happened to know the title by sheer coincidence, and I just happened to be at the show where it was debuted. All of the effort I have put in over the years was given a tangible reward.

The history I have with Phish is one that I don't think I could ever duplicate with another band. Only the knowledge that no one else would do it, made me listen to all of those soundchecks instead of hanging out with my friends. Any jamband these days has a dozen people vying to be the one to report the correct list to boxscores. I don't have the interest in creating the information I have with another band, because if I don't, someone else will do it for me and save me the work. I often say that the reason I was able to see a lot of early Phish was that I was in the right place at the right time. The reverse of that is true too. Phish were at the right place at the right time to be an obsession with me. It takes the (temporary) end of a relationship sometimes to see just how special it was. This last tour brought home just how much Phish has meant to me, musically, socially (the set break at Shoreline was poignant as I realized that I didn't know when I'd see all of the people I was with at the same place again), and in terms of my own identity. I appreciate the lesson. Can we have some more shows now?

[1] She was against said abuse.

[2]In an attempt to fight jadedness, two weeks before I see a band live, I stop listening to their music. It seems to work well; and anything that adds ritual to my life is a good thing.

[3]A brief note about the theory of slot machines. When presented with a known percentage, you're given a choice. You can play machines that have big payouts or machines where you will win small amounts on a regular basis. After playing the slots for a day on Saturday, I found myself going to the compromise machines. The machines that have the large payouts burn through your money (a machine that has a one in a 1,020,408 chance of giving you a million dollars on a $1 bet has a 98% payout, but you won't win at all most likely), but there's no real fun in going, "Whooo! I won fifty cents!" There are machines that have reasonably sized jackpots and a reasonable chance of winning. You won't get rich, but you might make $100 or so.

[4]I was informed that part of the "Tweezer" jam was a song by Gwar (who were playing next door) called "GWA." Apparently Gwar have no such song, but by the time I found that out, thousands of tapes were labeled with that. If I got you with that, I'm sorry. I got me too.