Solidness

Wingate Inn
Columbus, Ohio

Dreadful wind and rain... rain and wind... the reckless invasion of nature into corporate America... transcendence because of it... solid first set... solid second set... solidness...

So, I've been banned. I was told flat-out when I walked into the hotel room that there would be no geeking tonight. If there absolutely had to be geeking, I would be banished to the lobby. I managed to plea my way out of that fate and, instead, have retired to a corner for, hopefully, not too long a time. Indeed, it's the last night of tour - the last real night of tour - and the time has come for my stodgy self to be social, at least for a little bit. So, I'm limiting myself to the efficiency of my digestive system.

We drove through a monster rain storm to get to Columbus -- clouds, exaggerated, like those in a garish Biblical painting of the Lord appearing to a couple of shepherds on the outskirts of Jerusalem. Staring at highway in front of us, it didn't seem likely to me that any messages from on high would be received today; no messages etched into the sky with fire. Lately, I've been more and more confused as to how transcendent experiences can occur in sterile arenas and amphitheaters. The fact that they do so on a fairly regular basis is pleansatly baffling.

Today, however, was a day where everybody was forced to deal with nature in some way or another -- which, in a way, drew those two things together. When we arrived at the lots, the sky was a crystal blue. As we roamed Shakedown, though, the blackness blanketed us. By the time we got inside, a huge rainstorm began. By the time the show was ready to begin, the sky was completely dark, so much so that one could actually see Chris's light show during the normally-played-in-daylight first set. Rain and wind blew in from outside the pavilion, soaking everybody inside in a fine mist. No one could escape it.

As a result, the opening Sample In A Jar was transcendent. Nature encroached on the territory of capitalism, and suddenly the walls were down. This was literally the most exciting version of Sample I've ever heard, but it well could've been because I was being assailed by a storm, watching lightning shoot off in the distance. As Sample wound down, Brad came out and whispered in Trey's ear. Trey announced that the band would be forced to take a short break in order to wait for the present front to pass.

The intensity of the rain increased exponentially. People stood on their seats and howled like banshees. Things went vaguely primal somewhere in there, people resorting to grunts and moans to communicate. People beat their chests and shouted to the heavens. If Phish had returned to the stage at the moment, the place might've exploded into an orgy of blood and foam. When the band returned to the stage some 15 minutes later and tore through a precise Punch You In The Eye, beams of light began to burst through the clouds and cut directly through the open sides of the pavilion, casting a warm glow on the inside.

The first (and, likely, only) Timber Ho! of tour stuck very closely to its groove, though everybody managed to morph their parts significantly away from where they began. Gotta Jibboo and Boogie On Reggae Woman played a cute little trade off. During the Jibboo jam, Mike sunk himself deep in the groove and played variations on the same bassline while the rest of the band, led by Trey, went exploring. During Boogie On, Trey stuck to the same part, phrased differently, for the duration of the jam, while Mike led the melodic explorations. The beginning of the Stash jam continued the bright theme established in Boogie On, which could've led to an big-sounding version, but eventually settled into a fairly typical dark space, which climaxed easily.

Foam may have been the highlight of the set. Each band member played with a deft precision unmatched in many of their recent readings of their more composed pieces. Trey dropped out completely for the beginning of Page's piano solo. When he came back in, he and Page engaged in a series of sparkling arpeggios. Trey's began quietly, with Fish contributing the kind of parts he might play at a gig with the Jazz Mandolin Project. Likewise, Taste was a great choice to continue this theme, with more great cymbal work from Fish.

The second-set opening Mike's was a revelation. "You don't gotta tell me: I don't gotta move" struck home tonight for me, literally. I've spent the past few days at home in Oberlin, chilling between shows. After tomorrow, I'll be there indefinitely. I don't have to drive any significant distance after the Polaris gigs. Tour - the hard part, anyway - is just about over. The first jam was well-executed, though not very creative. After the drop to F, where they might segue into Simple, the band dropped into an extremely quiet groove -- almost as if they were jamming on Simple without having actually played the song. The jam reached deep into ambient territory, led by Mike, and into something intimately connected to Deer Creek's Cross Eyed and Painless.

The jam segued very naturally into Frankie Says, a song at the tender heart of the "Ghost" period. Like Foam, the song was perfectly rendered, each band member filling a perfect spot in the spectrum. The parts of the song come together so easily that it's simple to forget how interesting each player's part is. Fish, for example, plays one of the weirdest drum parts perhaps ever written (or spontaneously composed, at any rate) for a concise pop song. It sounds like the awkward drum part between Swept Away > Steep on "Billy Breathes", but Fish keeps it up so fluidly for the duration of the song that it sounds like a totally natural groove.

Sand continued its progression. If Jibboo is the song of tour, then Sand is a close second. It's a wonderfully deep outlet for some of the textures the band has been trying out, various combinations of a warm humming bass and lush keyboards. There's so much subtle interaction that goes on, especially between the Rhodes and Trey's keys, that's damn near impossible to hear everything on an audience tape -- one more reason for the band to start releasing soundboards.

Trey's Lizards solo was perhaps the best he's played in years, which is definitely worth noting. The encore, fairly a repeat from the second night in Atlanta, was a good combination of songs to leave one walking out with a comfortable glow -- though Guyute works better at the beginning of the lineup. So, we walked out with a comfortable glow...

Jesse Jarnow can be reached at jesse.jarnow@oberlin.edu or by his homepage. Previous tour journals are located here.