by Jesse Jarnow

May 22, 2000
In transit: New York City to Tarrytown, New York

Radio City Music Hall, New York City, New York

Light poems/lite poems... deconstructing drones... lobotomy beats... we drop ourselves into Radio City, make roots, and plan for next year.

Wandering around Radio City this evening, high tales of sleeplessness abounded; nearly everybody, it seemed, had spent the night on the street, curled up on the sidewalk outside of Roseland Ballroom trying to score a precious seat for the gig the following night. Through a sheer bit fortunate/unfortunate scheduling, I had previously made unbreakable arrangements to head back to Ohio on Tuesday -- leaving me free to sleep in a real bed on Sunday night. Costumes that were spiffy and clean the night before, for the most part looked a little worse for wear.

Likewise, people were a little bit edgy about the music too -- too tired to joke. The Sunday show was fun, and admirably tight, but never pushed to the next level, into something more compelling. Before the show tonight, people coagulated in the lobby for social hour; shmoozing like socialites and offering up opinions of the previous evening. A common sentiment seemed to be "it's sure as shit nice to be here -- but, dammit, it's time for them to make it all worth it, dammit."

The My Soul - and the entire first set, for that matter - didn't do much to alleviate fears. All of the playing was good, but it wasn't exploratory in any real sense of the world. It wasn't music to travel hundreds of miles to see. It was, however, more adventurous than most of the previous night. Chalkdust Torture, which had some tasty bass leads danced on the edge of release, but never quite made it. Likewise, the dynamics of Billy Breathes were just slightly off. The bass and the piano never quite hooked up in the graceful dance required of them. Thankfully, it wasn't so much as to make the tune unenjoyable.

During Split Open and Melt, the first song of the run that I can genuinely say I was excited to hear, Chris threw the houselights on. Cycling through a variety of color tones, he illuminated and revealed different shapes and accents within the curved roof. It was pretty, to be sure, but the alterations in the color didn't seem to particularly synch up with the music. The jam itself stuck pretty close to a run-of-the-mill Melt, coming nowhere close to the monumentally transcendent versions of the previous year. There was something profoundly unsatisfying about it. The Bathtub Gin fared a little better, ending with a nice deconstruction of the groove, which resulted in an interested feedback space, eventually resolving back into the Gin theme.

Down to the final set of the run, it was somewhat upsetting to hear a Bouncing opener -- not exactly the typical ready-to-explode-with-potential-energy song that usually kicks off a kinetic set of music. During the ending, Trey signaled to Fish. With the last chord, the hi-hat intro to David Bowie began. A beat later, Trey began to play the ending guitar part to Bouncing, fluttering and watery lines. In a sense, it also answered the perpetual "what if..." question: what if they jammed on Bouncing? This might well be as close as one can come to an answer. Gradually, Page and Mike crept in with dissonance and, suddenly, the band was in the midst of a full-on ambient style jam atop the hi-hat.

Most Bowie intros seem to exist only as a way to build tension before the song kicks in -- a kind of space filler. This was a piece of music with intent. Like the bass part in a Jibboo jam, the only thing holding it all together was the insistent hi-hat. The song itself was done well enough. And although it wasn't a standout version, it still did the trick. The transitions between sections seemed a little rough, but the build was executed nicely. The dissonant breaks in the hammer-on closing were absolutely superb, the band slipping in and out of odd rhythms with ease.

The dynamically shifting jam out of Ghost was easily the highlight of the run, moving through a number of sections before arriving at its destination. Out of the verses, Mike and Fish locked into a deep groove which remained essentially unchanged for the first part of the jam. On top of the bass and drums, Trey and Page added small, subtly shaping keyboard fills. Though the music was far from electronic in nature, the total effect was similar to that of a piece of electronic ambient music.

As tiny elements changed, the color of the entire piece shifted gradually. In the first part, unfortunately, there was slightly too much emphasis on the groove, overpowering and overshadowing Trey and Page. Gradually, Fish and Mike settled on a slightly mellower approach. At this point, Trey and Page moved to the middle ground to meet them. What the jam lost in subtlety, it gained in direction. The four moved as one, flowing from section to section. In the end, the jam collapsed inward on itself. As Page, Fish, and Mike all but faded, Trey played a small, elegant melody vaguely reminiscent of Peggy-O.

The Irish-sounding melody acted as a bridge into the Trey solo introduction to the Velvet Underground's Rock and Roll, an affirmation of all that is good if ever there was one. Energy surged through the room as fans in one of the upper mezzanine's unfurled a huge banner that read "THANK U". Trey bounced up and down, getting almost a foot of air at times, as the jam wound to a close. The energy and respect of the crowd was evident in the explosions during Rock and Roll and the moments of almost pure silence during Golgi Apparatus.

As the run wound to a close, fans wandered through the lobby, wishing friends fun at Roseland or safety on their journeys, making plans to meet on summer tour or somewhere before. All in all, while there was only one eminently satisfying set at Radio City, Phish managed to make it the last.