Mike, a few nights later- photo by Dustin Weiss

Compared to last year’s debacle, the drive from Noblesville to East Troy was a breeze, and we made it into the lots just in time to listen in on the soundcheck, a slow, bluesy “Dog Log” with some indecipherable mumbled lyrics at the end, wafting over the southwest crest of Alpine Valley’s giant lawn. It was the third straight scorcher of a day and the lots provided no refuge from the sun, but nobody seemed fazed; the reality of Phish on a hot streak was relief enough, and we were earning it by day.

Now that people have given up on the “Tuuuuuube” chants, will Phish finally crank out a monster? Not tonight, but it’s still a great opener, and it’s nice to see so much love recently for the Fishman tunes. It’s also a joy having “The Oh Kee Pa Ceremony” back in front of “Suzy Greenberg,” and blown out right in the beginning of the set like that; the crowd was now officially charged. A very strong “Reba” preceded the setlist geeks’ dream: the third known performance of Mike’s cruel oddity “Fuck Your Face,” prompting gleeful high-fives amongst the growing number of fans who have actually heard the song.

Trey’s guitar was at maximum power for most of this set, plowing through a very typical “Alaska” and invoking John Fogerty in the funky hoedown of “Back On The Train,” but he still hasn’t worked out (i.e., remembered ) a competent ending for “Taste;” this was horrible as usual. “Gumbo” was solid but painfully short, no jam at all; “Sparkle” was damn near as long, and far more exciting, as the boys managed to keep pace with the roiling spasm of sound. At set’s end, “Run Like An Antelope” was obviously due, and in the age of relative containment for the tune, this was damn near ecstatic perfection, one that makes you a little jealous of all the people who have never experienced an “Antelope” before.

Set two charged to life with “The Sloth” (for us über-geeks, completing a quadruple nipple between tonight and night one of Deer Creek…yeah, I guess that doesn’t count), an auspiciously menacing opener to whet our appetites. Chances are, if you’re taking the time to read this well after the event, you’ve already heard about what happened next. For me, “Down With Disease”>“What’s The Use?” represented the answer to a fundamental question that had plagued me right up until that moment: will Phish ever again play a jam that satisfies the cravings of this diehard mid-90s head? I’m talking about the kind of jam where if you just walked in, you’d have no idea what song it is, but the music has purpose, weight, theme after glorious, spontaneous theme, and then before you even realize there was a segue, you’re inside another song. It was total musical gratification of the kind only Phish can deliver.

They could’ve just urinated in our ears for the rest of the set and I’d have been satiated, but instead, 2010 saw its first “Scent Of A Mule,” and it really was a beautiful little battle by Page and Trey; didn’t think they had much invested in Mike’s little ditty any more. Then they dove into the newly-invigorated Mike’s Groove, a unique and tasty version. Although “Mike’s Song” and “Weekapaug Groove” were white bread, the meat consisted of a lovely “Dirt” interlude and a rousing “Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley” out of left field, complete with a soulful mini vocal jam; the boys were clearly amped up and the ending jived perfectly with the opening crash of “Weekapaug.”

To cap the set, the usually take-it-or-leave-it “Bug” became a monstrosity as Trey’s magic new guitar slashed through the summer evening with a fury, the refrain of “it doesn’t matter” acting as a rallying cry in the face of anyone who doubted that this band could recapture its glory. Encore? “Quinn The Eskimo” for the second time in six days/second time since 1999. The previous outing had also followed one of the very best sets since Phish’s return from retirement. Now that I’d witnessed this fullness of power in person, I walked into the night registering the equation “game=changed.”