You may have heard that the jam-rock band Phish just wrapped up a 13-night stand at Madison Square Garden—a run the band has dubbed the
“Baker’s Dozen.” The Garden has been
pretty full every night, and as word spread of how hot the band’s playing has
been the final few shows have sold out. With
the end of this run, Phish will be in the top handful of bands in terms of the
total number of shows at “the world’s most famous arena” (at 52)—keeping company like
Elton John, The Grateful Dead, Billy Joel, and the Boss.
When I’ve told friends, work colleagues, and all manner of
non-“phans” about the 13 shows; that I’ve come up twice from DC to see a total
of four; and that I know a few people doing all dozen (+1); most people react
with a bit of bemused curiosity. Why
would anyone go see the same band so many times? What is it with this weird band and the
subculture of people who follow them around?
Didn’t this whole hippie thing die out with Jerry Garcia 20 years ago?
Well, here is my attempt to explain, for the benignly
curious.
Each show is
completely unique. For starters,
it’s important to point out that Phish will not repeat a single song over its
entire 13-night MSG run; so each show will be entirely different than all the
others. They can pull this off because
of an extensive catalogue of songs, their willingness to mix in covers (more on
this below), and the fact that they at times extend a single song to 25 or 30
minutes—so even with two sets and a good 2.5 hours of music they are not
playing as many tunes as another band might in just an hour and a quarter.
From this perspective, seeing Phish 4, 5, or 13 times at MSG
is less like going to see Hamilton several times in a row; and more like if Lin
Manuel Miranda set up shop at a Broadway theatre for 13 nights and produced an
entirely new play each night—mixing together songs you love from his various
plays and throwing in some new stuff you’d never expect from him. If you’re a Miranda fan, you might not be
satisfied by going to one show—you might try to get to as many of those as you
could.
You’re part of
something, not just observing. Most
rock shows—even great ones—are heavily produced. The Stones or U2 will play a pre-determined
list of songs in largely the same way they did the night before and the
audience is there to witness. Sure,
there might be a sing-along at some (usually predictable) point; but there’s not
that much actual interaction between band and fan.
Not so at a Phish show.
Because the music is intensely improvisational and the band usually
doesn’t know what they’ll play before they get on stage, the audience is not
behind the metaphorical “third wall” witnessing something preplanned. Rather the band and the audience are part of a
collective experience everyone is helping to shape. The epitome of this was something from the 1990s called “Big
Ball Jam” where the band threw a large inflatable ball out into the audience
and based their playing on how the fans manipulate the ball—throwing it around
quickly, holding it for a pause, etc.
This is happening in more subtle ways throughout each of their shows—musicians
feeding off the energy of the crowd and vice versa. This is one reason nobody sits down at a
Phish show—it just wouldn’t work if the band was playing to a group of politely
seated, golf-clapping aficionados.
They’re hosting a party and you’re a valued guest. Nobody can throw a great party on their
own—even the best hosts need their guests to get into it, let their hair down
and join the fun.
In this way, the Hamilton example above isn’t quite
right. It’s actually more like if Lin
Manuel Miranda was producing 13 different shows and needed you and your friends
to help him pull it all together—he’ll actually choose different songs and put
a different accent on each riff depending on the vibe in the room. It’s a pretty fun thing to be part of.
The music builds to
euphoric crescendos throughout the night.
Phish specializes in a particular type of somewhat
orchestral style—both in their composed music and their extemporaneous
playing. Several times throughout the
evening, Trey, Page, Mike, and Fish will take the audience on a journey that
builds from a base that can be at times even quiet and contemplative steadily
forward through 10 to 15 or even 20 minutes towards a euphoric peak where the
whole building is jumping around, screaming, throwing light sticks and
generally losing their minds in the best possible way. This is all helped along by Chris Kuroda who
runs the lights and is often
referred to as “the fifth member of Phish” because of how he needs to be
seamlessly in tune with the musicians to help create the holistic experience
that tends towards euphoria.
A friend told me she heard the Phish scene described as a
“secular mega-church” and these crescendo jams are our speaking-in-tongues
moments. It can be cathartic and
healing. The same friend told me how her
stresses at work melted away as the band took her on this journey at Saturday
night’s show. I’ve long thought that one
reason Americans are more church-going than residents of other countries is
that we don’t have any other place in our culture (like soccer games, pubs) for
singing together, which I think is a primal human need.
The vibe is fun, creative,
and communal—not snobby. Each member
of Phish is a virtuoso at his instrument, and fans are known to endlessly
dissect the music in the chat rooms, etc.
Like in any subculture, some Phish fans can get competitive about how
many shows they’ve seen or passionate about exactly which era of the band’s
history or version of their favorite song is the pinnacle. But, most people are just happy to be there
and the band doesn’t take itself too seriously, and this comes through clearly
at the shows.
One example from this MSG run sums it up nicely. As noted, the band dubbed the 13 shows the
“Baker’s Dozen” (buy 12 tickets and get your 13th free); each show
has been themed around a donut flavor and featured songs related to that
flavor. Saturday, 8/5’s theme was
“Boston Cream,” so everyone was expecting them to cover songs by Boston and
Cream. What they did was play a “More
Than a Feeling” / “Longtime” medley squeezed into the middle of a hard-rocking
“Sunshine of Your Love,” ultimately melding the songs together into a fun,
creative jam. Afterwards lead singer and
guitarist Trey Anastasio quipped “we put together this whole thing just so we
could do that.”
For Halloween, the band puts on a “musical costume” and
covers an entire essential album by a great band (I got to see the Rolling Stones’ “Exile on Main
Street” in 2009). For New Years,
they often pull elaborate stunts or pranks.
The drummer occasionally
plays a vacuum cleaner as a musical instrument on stage. One song routinely features Trey and Mike jumping up and down on
trampolines. This is not a band that
gets too precious.
Out in the audience the snobs who would judge you for being
a newbie are few and far between. The
general atmosphere is generous and communal.
People talk to their neighbors (not during the show, please); find out
where they’re from, share beer, water, and…other stuff; and a seating section
often feels like a party of new friends-for-a-night. When it’s all over people wish their new
friends well and hope to cross paths again at another show.
There is an important caveat to this: a Phish show is an
overwhelmingly white scene. For people
of color and white folks who care a lot about racial equity it’s quite a bit
more complicated than what I’m describing above. Phish fans are generally a pretty
progressive, chill group of white people but that of course doesn’t mean there
aren’t blind spots, white privilege (open consumption of drugs without
consequence, anyone), and everything else that comes along with a culture where
whiteness is a monolithic default around which anyone else needs to
navigate. I don’t think this whiteness
has particularly sinister origins—the band consists of four white members from
Vermont, one of the whitest states in the nation, so it’s not surprising they
would build a primarily white fan base.
But it is complete enough that it builds upon itself such that people of
color may not feel comfortable at the shows.
The Phish / jam band community would do well to put some serious thought
into how to make our beloved scene (which can feel like a tribe in some good
ways) a more welcoming space for people of all backgrounds and types.
There are also a hell of a lot more dudes than women—it’s
one of the few places where you’ll see the men’s bathroom lines snaking much
longer than the women’s (a bit of poetic justice). As far as I can tell the sexism / misogyny
that tends to come along with that is fairly well in check but I’d be
interested in what my women Phish fan friends think of that and as I’m writing
this I’m realizing I’ve never had the decency to ask—I should get on that.
They go all out for
their fans. The care and creativity
put into the Baker’s Dozen (complete with a free theme-night donut upon entry)
is exemplary of the general attitude Phish has towards its fan base. Every two-to-three years they’ll stage a
multi-day festival (one of the few bands who can pull that off with no other
acts on the bill) where this comes out in full force. In addition to three straight nights of great
music there will be art instillations, rides (a big
Ferris wheel at a recent festival) daytime and “secret” late-night sets,
and (critically) aggressively clean port-a-potties. The fans are coming for the music, not the
extras—so they could pocket plenty more cash if they went barebones; but it
appears they genuinely care about their fans’ experiences and want everyone to
have as much fun as possible. Bassist
Mike Gordon is even known for riding around festivals in a golf cart and saying
hi.
The music, the music,
the music. Last, and MOST (not
least), Phish is a great rock-and-roll band that has been together for nearly
35 years, filled with members who are brilliant individually and deeply
connecting to each other, and is playing at or near the peak of their
game. What they are doing musically
right now is certainly special and possibly
historic. Jam bands might not be
your thing, but if you’re a music fan generally this is something at least
worth checking out.
When you add it all together you get an experience that is
unique, collective, and euphoric. It’s
hard to appreciate what’s going down “in the room where it happens” unless
you’re actually there. So, next time
Phish comes to your town, consider giving one show a try. It might not be your thing, but I’ll bet when
you leave you’ll at least understand why other people are so into it. And, you never know…one show just might turn
into 13.
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