A few days earlier, in Telluride – photo by Greg Aiello

After another sweltering hot, drippingly humid day, relief was on the way as the sun dipped behind the hood of Deer Creek’s pavilion. Phish had taken another leap forward in its re-evolution on night one, and while that should result in high expectations, instead I just felt like a kid waiting for my folks to get out of bed on Christmas morning; this was gonna kick ass no matter what happened. Sure, I could hope for “The Curtain With” from Santa Claus, but as long as there were a few tasty jams in the stocking, who really cares?

The crowd was much readier today; most had gotten plenty of sleep, weren’t worn out from a long drive, setting up camp, etc., so the energy was crackling when the boys walked onstage. Folks were getting sick of “Chalk Dust Torture” openers last year, but this year Phish has been mixing it up more thoroughly and even stretching out into a deep jam with the song in Camden, so nobody was complaining about this rousing launch. Next, a briefly jammed-out intro led into “Guelah Papyrus”. It’s a tricky tune and they pulled it off expertly, even the intricate fugue of the “Asse Festival” section. A year ago, Trey couldn’t have pulled this off nearly so well. Six years ago, he probably didn’t remember he’d written it.

“I Didn’t Know” was actually a highlight of the first frame; although it was not pretty vocally, a botched re-entry after Fishman’s vacuum solo prompted him to, er, “harmonize” with the other three on the Electrolux as they sang the final verse. Then, for some small cluster of fans who actually desired it, the band brushed another Coventry monkey off its collective back with the return of “Walls Of The Cave.” It was fine, unremarkable aside from being another sign that the band isn’t afraid to let hazy memories of 2004 creep back into the consciousness.

The only notable jam of the set came in “Stash.” It didn’t get weird, but some early group noodling set up a tense bed of improv, and Trey’s trills eventually led the charge to a solid if typical climax. “Backwards Down The Number Line” was the ebullient jaunt variety, and “Ocelot” was its usual unremarkable, Deadish plod. Even “Possum” seemed a bit rushed, but the band was undeniably tighter and more enthusiastic than during the previous night’s first set.

We’re all rooting for that first huge “Halley’s Comet” of the new era, but for now we have to be content with it as a lead-in to “Light,” although everybody but Trey seemed ready to extend this set two opener. By now, you can’t help but get excited whenever the “Light” chords hit you, because they invariably lead to a grand expedition. This jam was a fantastic illustration of how Fishman has relearned to anticipate Trey’s next move; the two of them were in lock-step as they built to a glorious peak, then descended into a magnificent murky drone, Mike leading a gorgeous, cooperative melodic stroll that eventually returned to the main theme. A creepy ambient outro turned into “46 Days,” which seemed destined to be a pure guitar workout, but it too tapered off into a mesmerizing ambient outro highlighted by Fishman’s imaginative, loping punctuation.

“Maze” rose from the ashes, and Page’s jam built to furious heights of unease, abetted by intuitive accompaniment from each member. Trey’s jam didn’t come close, but even in its perfunctory form it led to a giddy peak. I can’t explain why, but I couldn’t be happier that “Meatstick” hasn’t been dumped from the repertoire; something about it is too Phishy to be denied, and after only one appearance in 2009 I feared I’d never catch it. But the Phishiest part of this version was the glitchy bloop jam that occurred at its end, when Trey began to pick out the “Mango Song” riff and patiently persisted until Fish, then Mike, and eventually Page joined in, in one of the most perfect segues you can imagine.

This was the climax of the set. We were treated to some choice work from Page in “Fluffhead” just prior to “Clod,” and a breakneck “Julius” to close things out, as Trey consolidated his reemergence as leader of the pack. There was no sign either night of the whale calls that had plagued his guitar work on the first leg of summer tour; while this effect occasionally worked as a temporary detour in a jam, it was impossible for the rest of the band to create any worthwhile fabric with it. But on this second leg, Trey was back to sounding like himself, taking leads when it makes sense and listening to the group dynamic with sage intuition.

There is nothing tossed off about Phish encores these days, and this one was superb. No idea what it is that inspires Mike when he does “Contact,” but his playing and singing dripped emotion tonight. Whatever the case, this is not just a silly little ditty to him. Finally, a majestic “Slave To The Traffic Light” completed the vehicular theme, an omen for a pleasant, hassle-free journey down the road to Alpine Valley the next morning.