--"Flight"    

   Tom Marshall is an interesting mixture of wise old man and dreamy kid. As the lyricist for jam-champions Phish, he has given the scene its fundamental psychic attitude and a vocabulary that is now pervasive throughout Gobi-Land. Penning ideas that range from the deepest ironies to the sweetest whimsies, Marshall has mapped out a distinctive between-place amid which his mind frolics with guarded abandon, avoiding extremes. The images in his songs are just oblique enough to invite (even encourage) varied inferences and many differing interpretations, and yet they are equally capable of utter directness in dissecting human experience.

 When Tom Marshall and Trey Anastasio met as 8th grade classmates at Princeton Day School in 1978, it's unlikely they had any idea their friendship would evolve into a songwriting team responsible for the primary anthems of an unbelievably vibrant subculture, essentially supplying a generation of nomadic souls with God's own soundtrack, a moving scripture bestowed upon a devoted multitude who live for Phish and who adopt Marshall's memorable lines and phrases as mottos, slogans, and personal philosophies. The fruitfulness of his collaboration with Anastasio has brought Marshall an admiration and acclaim for which he is thankful, despite his natural tendency to seek privacy and invisibility. Indeed, this quiet family man and mild-mannered computer systems analyst is definitely ready to quit his day job and bust out with a whole slew of new projects.

    In the past few months, he has recorded and released the successful solo record "Amfibian Tales," reassembled his band Amfibian, and, with pal Andy Navarro, started a music management/production company that goes by the moniker Furry Thug. The recently-launched company was really born, according to Marshall, "when I began helping students from my old High School with their Senior Projects. The three kids I've helped so far were so talented I couldn't let go of them." Marshall continues, "I was so impressed with them I decided I'd like to help them get started musically. That thought eventually turned into Furry Thug Productions."

     The first student, Andrew Southern, is now working closely with Marshall as a member of Amfibian. The other two students are Steph Sanders and Anna Soloway, who write and perform together as a duo called The Saras. In addition to Amfibian and The Saras, Furry Thug also has on its roster the instrumental jazz-jam trio Liqwid. The whole Furry Thug stable will be hitting the road for a flurry of shows in November 2000, including a big blowout bash at The Wetlands in New York City on November 4.

     With a busy schedule that includes (but is not limited to) Amfibian practice, working on his new studio, and doing Furry Thug-related tasks while surviving a demanding day job and caring for a family, Marshall is nevertheless occasionally able to enjoy shots of his beloved Don Eduardo tequila and compose songs that reflect his unique and touchingly skewed vision of life on earth. Stressful? Yes. But Marshall seems to be thriving on the manic energy of it all. He even found time to participate in the following interview, during which he discusses his early musical influences and his own creative legacy, both the newer material and that which he has already bequeathed to posterity. Tom Marshall is a man on a mission, for sure, the nature of which is best defined in his own words, from the song "Flight:" "Until the air I breathe is gone I'd like my soul to linger on"  

BS: What is the first music you remember loving?  

TM: The Beatles. My sister's copies of "Abbey Road" and "Let it Be" were what I listened to as soon as I learned how to work the stereo. My sister is six years older and kind of shaped my musical taste when I was younger, until I got into High School really.  She played lots of 45s--you know, top-10 singles that they played on WABC 77 AM in New York.  She had cool boyfriends who played guitar and gave her lots of albums too. I remember stuff by The Stones, The Kinks and The Allman Brothers a bit later.  Some of my parents' hip friends also gave them Simon and Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" and then "Jesus Christ Superstar." Those were huge for me.  But the Beatles stuff was what I grew up on.  

BS: Who else have you been into musically over the years?  

TM: In high school I hung around with a very musical bunch of guys.  There was a Band/Springsteen faction and a Yes/Genesis faction.  I was definitely in the latter. I loved progressive rock.  King Crimson and Genesis were my favorites. It took me a long time to find music I liked better than some of that stuff, "Larks Tongues in Aspic" and "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway" in particular.  

BS: "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway" was such a crucial album for those of us who came of age in the '70s. What do you think makes it such a compelling work?  

TM: That album was like my "Sergeant Pepper," I think.  It created huge waves in a calm pond.  It's simply a masterpiece where each song is better than the last. How many albums can you say that about?  Also, the mental rock opera image that forms when I listen has never been shattered by the making of an actual movie or play, which would never have held up to my expectations. The playing and instrumentation are phenomenal, as is the sound.  Brian Eno had a lot to do with the sound of the overall disk. He's another of my personal music gods.  

BS: Who else?  

TM: A girlfriend at the time got me into James Taylor and CSNY.  I went nuts over vocal harmony and began my lifelong habit of never singing the exact melody with a song, instead I match a sung harmony or create my own. I think this helped me in songwriting and composition later. Trey was a big part of my childhood clan as well, but he and I differed slightly in musical tastes. He was also into the stuff I've just mentioned, but he was particularly focused on Jimi Hendrix, whom I hadn't fallen for yet. He also moved readily between the two musical "gangs" I mentioned.  He was a Deadhead too before I even really knew what they were about.  

BS: Were you ever a Deadhead?  

TM: I was never into the Dead at all really.  I saw about 10 shows, none of them particularly memorable.  I'm weird I think in that I really like their studio albums. "American Beauty," of course, reigns supreme for me still. It's just a fantastic display of songwriting, particularly Hunter's contributions  

BS: I love Trey's observation in "The Phish Book" about being influenced by the Dead: "If you take from them what you should . . . you'll sound nothing like them." I wish more young jambands would heed that truism.

  TM: Trey had a period in his life when he was VERY into the Dead, and I'd say he was extremely influenced by Jerry, perhaps less so by his actual playing and more just by his mystique, and that of the band in general.  

BS: Who are some of your favorite music artists working today?  

TM: Sarah McLaughlin, Fiona Apple and Aimee Mann are all in my disk player right now.  There was a period where I didn't care much for many women songwriters--Joni Mitchell, Carol King, Carly Simon and Kate Bush were always exceptions--but it seems like we're in the midst of a huge revolution these days. Almost all the new stuff I like is by women.  

BS: Who are your songwriting heroes?  

TM: I still have to give that to Lennon/McCartney.  

BS: Do you consider yourself more a "Lennon guy" or a "McCartney guy?"  

TM: Neither. I liked the fact that despite their differences and everything all the songs were still labeled Lennon/McCartney.  There's a reason for that and I respect it.  Sure, anyone who listens enough can tell instantly who wrote a particular song, or part of a song, but I prefer to think of them as an inseparable team.  

BS: And given your love of early Genesis, Peter Gabriel must also rank high on your list of songwriting influences.  

TM: The songs on "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway" and "Selling England By the Pound" opened up my eyes and soul at a young age. After "The Lamb," when Gabriel left Genesis, his first two follow-up disks were quite excellent, but then his third, referred to as "Gabriel III" since he didn't want to name them, is a real masterpiece. This is yet another of his albums that caught the music industry by surprise, and its influence can still be heard today.  One cool bit of trivia about it is that there are no cymbals used on the entire disk.  Anyway, this album was one of my staples for a long time.  I don't think I can specifically point to a song and say "this was written because of my Peter Gabriel influence," but it's deep inside me and always will be.  Mind you, I think his newer stuff unfortunately can't compare to the old stuff. Not even close.  

BS: Do most of your lyrics begin as poems?  

TM: Yes. And most of those poems begin as one line I repeat in my head until I feel I'm ready to bring it to life.  It's often something I heard someone say or a variation of that.  

BS: Did you study poetry in school?  

TM: No, I never studied poetry, but my High School had a great English Department, and "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge first became known to me there. My dad read a lot of Edgar Allen Poe to me when I was younger. I found Emily Dickinson on my own, however, and I'm pretty into her stuff.  Beyond those three I'm not as well "versed," so to speak, as I should be in poetry.  I have a lot of poetry anthologies, and many poems strike me from time to time, but in general, I think poems on paper are somewhat lifeless. I like listening to music lyrics much more than reading poems.  

BS: The meanings of your lyrics are pretty slippery. Is this intentional?  

TM: Well, I'm not trying to be slippery by disguising any actual meaning with a false one.  That someone might interpret a song differently than I do is to me an indication that people are listening and the words are generic enough that they can adapt it to something in their lives. That's a successful song for me. I think Phish fans are willing to work a bit, on the music and the lyrics. Nothing really falls into place without some effort on the listener's part.  

BS: Do you consciously employ the "water" imagery that runs through much of your work?  

TM: Many of the "Billy Breathes" songs were written during a scuba-diving trip that Trey and I took in the Cayman Islands, so that is one place where water consciously took a forefront in the lyrics. Anywhere else, water appears simply because I'm fascinated with it I guess.  

BS: What's the fascination?  

TM: The ocean at the same time frightens and seduces me, but water in general holds a special place in my writing because of its many poetic properties.  It reflects light and images. It can warm or cool us. It can change states. It's the only medium in which humans can freely move about in three dimensions. We float on the surface unaware of what is watching us from beneath. Water can be life-giving and life-stealing.  We come from the sea, and the sea is still in us.  

BS: Do you ever have what you would call "mystical experiences?"  

TM: Because of "The Phish Book," I think most people know about the weird experience I had with a schoolmate who housed my "guardian spirit."  I first talked about it to Trey in the lyrics to "Ghost."  My friend denied any such knowledge but would mysteriously refer now and then to "the spirit" and, from time to time, answer my unspoken questions.  A few other mystical experiences I've had have gotten mentioned in songs, but no others were the main topic. For example, "I'd drop him, a forgotten god, languishing in shame" from "Sand" resulted from a weird experience I had writhing around the sawdust covered stage of a local theater that was under renovation at the time. The writing of "Divided Sky" itself was a mystical experience: it involved The Rhombus, a large squashed-cube sculpture that Trey and I and other pals would hold songwriting rituals upon. One particularly foggy night we were drumming and singing and realized that the sky was divided completely in half: there was a light side and a dark side.  It was some kind of illusion created by the fog but it worked for us.  

BS: A Manichean vision of the universe! Where is The Rhombus? Just that name alone is enough to conjure the spirit world.  

TM: The Rhombus is in Princeton, New Jersey.  It's this huge, squashed-cube sculpture that echoes nicely when you drum on it.  It became a destination of ours during our grade school and High School years. We would get on top of it and the setting was so beautiful and silent, there was almost always some kind of mist hanging in the air from the nearby pond and the neighboring woods were dark and ominous.  

BS: Why did you hold your songwriting rituals there?  

TM: It struck a chord in the fantasy side of our imaginations. It was in a remote location where you would rarely find other people after dark.  And you're right, we did ritualize it.  We couldn't go there without at least one musical instrument and a sixpack. Mounting The Rhombus is also rather difficult: it's about 8 feet high, and the walls are at a very steep angle. Just running up it only works if the dew hasn't fallen yet, and when we would go there, the grass was soaked. We would have to help each other up and accomplishing that was just the beginning of a long night of music-making.  Back then, you could pry a hatch open on top and get inside The Rhombus. Now, it's riveted closed--probably a good thing actually.  

BS: Unlike many songwriters, you seem to enjoy (or even favor) the collaborative process. Why is that?  

TM: Musical relationships and collaborations have always opened my eyes. I definitely favor them. A simplistic way of looking at it could be that I just don't play all that well and need help on the music side of things.  But I don't think that's it. I do and can write songs by myself, but even with most of those, I tend to prefer having other people get into it by adding something of themselves to the song.  Musical collaboration in the creation of a new song is one of the biggest pleasures in my life, and I guess that overrides my ego or desire to have songs by only me. Don't get me wrong though: my style of writing can only be done well with a select few. A special link needs to be there prior to the writing, and when it's missing, it's painfully obvious.  

BS: Obviously that "special link" is there with Trey. Describe how you two typically work together on songs.  

TM: The method has changed over the years. Early on I used to just send Trey a whole bunch of poems. I didn't edit them or even worry about the content at all. Much of it was raw, ugly even, and mainly meant to make him laugh or provoke some kind of reaction.  Other poems were just silly word-mash things. Trey ate them up. He combined several poems into one song, he would mix and match to his heart's content, not ever worrying about a poem's flow because in actuality, there probably wasn't any. Songs like "Squirming Coil" and "Stash" were written like that. "Lawn Boy" and "Bouncing Around the Room" were different in that I composed them in a more serious vein and they survived intact. I had no say in the editing or songwriting process back then. Later on, I would still continue to send Trey lots of potential lyrics, allowing him to sort through them, but he began calling me and we would finish the songs over the phone. I would rewrite when necessary, or fill-in where needed. "LifeBoy" was written like that--an entirely "over-the-phone" song.  It wasn't until fairly recently, '96-'97, that Trey and I started getting together to write. The "Billy Breathes" scuba-diving trip in the Caymans was when we realized that we were hundreds of times more efficient working together in the same room. Soon after that, Trey began renting farmhouses in Stowe, Vermont for long weekends, and I would drive or fly up and spend three days doing nothing but writing and recording. The houses would be filled with instruments and recording equipment by people who worked for Phish. These sessions were tremendously productive and provided the basis for "Story of the Ghost" and "Farmhouse."  Trey and I didn't spend a lot of time working on "getting sounds" or rehearsing. We just recorded the songs quickly and moved on to the next one.  One of our methods for knowing when a song was done was when we ran out of tracks. We only had eight tracks to record on, and we had a no-bouncing rule. We had three or four farmhouse sessions in '97-'98, and Trey has recently compiled many of those songs onto a disk that will soon be available through Phish.com and Phish's newsletter.

  BS: You wrote "Nothing" with Trey. Was it originally intended to be a Phish song, or was it composed especially for "Amfibian Tales?"  

TM: Trey and I wrote a few songs that didn't amount to anything in a short writing session we had once. "Nothing" was one that, in my opinion, didn't deserve to be scrapped, but Trey didn't particularly care for it.  He mentioned the undue Indigo Girls kind of vibe and just dropped it.  It got me thinking though that Steph and Anna (The Saras) could do an excellent job with the harmonies.  

BS: The Saras, yes. They some shweeet-voiced gals!  

TM: Yeah, they are. They're very young, yet write like they've been doing it for many years. They just keep getting better too. They challenge each other. They have long periods of separation during school semesters, and when they finally get back together, their styles have each changed slightly, and they anxiously audition their new stuff for each other. It's sort of a great one-upsmanship going on. I don't see an end in sight.  

BS: How would one categorize The Saras' musical style?  

TM: Fiona Apple with harmony?  The Beatles as women?  None are really accurate though. You have to check them out.  Their writing and harmonies are just getting better and better, and they're only 18 years old! Their band is going to open for Amfibian when we start playing bigger places this November. I hope I'm not giving anything away, but it looks like Ween's bass player, Dave Driewitz is going to be in their band!  

BS: How long did it take you to write the songs for "Amfibian Tales?"  

TM: The songs were written over a one year span. I had a relaxed schedule and no real deadline, and that contributes to the mellow feel I think.  The techniques for recording closely followed Trey's and my method which I described earlier, except for the fact that time wasn't a factor, so I polished the songs a bit more. But it does have a "low-fi" aspect to it which was intended.  

BS: How did you know you were done and ready to record?  

TM: After I had about 20 songs recorded, I made an arbitrary deadline of December '99 and tried my best to stick to it.  

BS: Does the album have an underlying theme? Is there any kind of unifying element to the songs?  

TM: There's a mood that pervades. Friends have described it as "forced happiness" or something like that. I don't find it particularly melancholy, and that wasn't my intention, but there's some truth to that, and it's hiding in there I suppose.  

BS: Are you looking forward to playing some rock and roll with your band Amfibian again?  

TM: Yes!  Amfibian is back, and we're booking ourselves for quite a few shows this November and December and into early 2001. I'm happiest about our new addition, Chris Harford, who comes with his own huge repertoire of great music. My pals from my band have played with Chris for years, so the fit was perfect. Chris and I are now writing together, and it's working out quite well.  

BS: How did Amfibian get together?  

TM: The original Amfibian was formed when a Trey/Tom band experiment didn't quite work. My pals Matt Kohut (bass) and Peter Cottone (drums) and I practiced a bit and planned to go on a mini-tour with Trey billed as U-Talk. The distance, New Jersey to Vermont, was what killed us. We had to practice without Trey, and when we finally got together, Trey had something else in mind and brought an additional guitarist up to rehearse with us. We knew from the word go that there just wasn't the right chemistry.  Disappointed, the three of us went back to NJ and formed Amfibian.

  BS: Are you planning to devote more time to the band now?  

TM: Yes. Last time Amfibian played it didn't quite meet my expectations. Lots of people liked us, and the reviews were generally positive, but I wasn't really getting satisfaction. We were a cover band and had nothing of our own going on. Disbanding, while a difficult decision, was the impetus for the recording of "Amfibian Tales."  Reforming (limb by limb) was also tough. There was a level of trust that we needed to regain:  "Is this just another one of Tom's whims?," was on most of the guys' minds, I'm sure.  Maybe it IS just a whim, and we'll decide to disband again after a few shows, but it feels better this time around. In reality, I'm not a player or a singer, and I'm not meant to be a front-man for a band, but I have FUN up there, and I think that's half the battle. Chris Harford IS a frontman and can sing 40 songs per night with no problem. I, on the other hand, need to carefully rest my throat after singing a mere five to ten songs. These are just some of the perils in starting a band when you're almost 40 years old!  Chris has been performing and singing live since he was in grade school. All of Amfibian's musicians except me are real pros with a lot of experience.  

BS: Has your close association with Phish been a help or a hindrance to your solo career?  

TM: It's the reason for it. A help for sure. Without Phish, I wouldn't have ever considered being in a band like Amfibian, or any band for that matter. Trey was the one who put the seed in my head, and also Phish provides me with moments on stage now and then where I've performed a couple of songs and silly antics. That kind of made me realize that I enjoy the stage.  

BS: Do you worry about having your solo work dismissed by folks who would accuse, "He only gets to do that 'cause he's friends with Trey?"  

TM: Not really. If they dismiss my music, then I shouldn't have to worry about them anymore, right?  They might be right in one sense, that it certainly helps me to be affiliated with Phish. There's no denying that. But is that a reason to sit around doing nothing?  

BS: Do you like the film "Bittersweet Motel?"  

TM: It's a great tour summary and a cool view backstage. I like it more now than when I saw a preview of it on video. It's a decent movie. Rather Trey-oriented though. But so is Phish when you think about it!  

BS: Do you think there's life on other planets?  

TM: I think there's unquestionably life on other planets. Well...not in OUR solar system, but elsewhere in the universe.  Like Carl Sagan used to say, there are "billions and billions" of other galaxies out there, each with billions and billions of stars. Statistically speaking, billions of those have earth-like planets with atmospheres and temperatures like ours, and they've been around roughly the same length of time. I think the chance of life NOT existing elsewhere in the universe is infinitesimally small. I even think that some of those other civilizations have probably developed galaxy-hopping space craft and some less advanced ones have certainly developed radio capability. If we keep looking, we'll find them.  I think I'm rather Star Trek-like in the way I view the universe.  

BS: Do you think life on THIS planet has a purpose? What the hell is it?  

TM: I would say our purpose is progress, to keep looking for the purpose. We'll know it when we find it. We know it's worth looking for even though we can't conceive of it. We've taken lots of steps in the right direction I think. The human genome project, for one.  Space exploration for another. We've evolved as a species enough to leave the planet!  That's saying something.  

BS: If you had to choose between one or the other, would you rather have the power to be invisible or the power to fly?  

TM: I think, even though I totally envy the red-tailed hawk that I've been watching hunt out in the fields this summer, I would choose invisibility.  This would be the ultimate form of fading away, which I think is ingrained in my personality. I like the limelight now and then, but I crave my time alone more.  Flying around I think would result in some serious scrutiny. I don't think invisibility would corrupt me either--like I don't think I'd use it to steal things...or spy on people...although now that I mention it...  This hawk, though, you should see it. If you haven't gotten a chance to watch one in action, it's nothing short of amazing.  He let me know that he knew I was watching him too. He came right at me and veered away at the last second--saying "Hi" I think.  

BS: On that note of wonder and amazement, let's conclude with this: What makes you happy?