2019/12/29 Phish @ MSG (Night 2)
I always got upset when people made the Grateful Dead about anything that wasn’t the music. Whether it was the drugs, the scene, the party, even the camaraderie and the friendships, what have you, it just irked me. And don’t get me wrong, I partook in all of those things, but the music was always first. In retrospect, however, even though I put the music first, the experience was all of those things and to try and separate one from the rest was just folly. Part of why I initially rejected Phish, even though I’ve been on the bus since my first shows in 93, is because I questioned people’s motives with the music and the scene. Like, who gives a fuck, right?
Fast forward almost 30 years, and I realize that both of these phenomena, Phish and the Grateful Dead before them, are just that…nonpareils. Yes, the music. First and foremost, the music. But it’s a total package and, with the benefit of years of experience, why try to take one and leave the rest, or the best, for that matter. Because right now, the music is at least equaled, if not bested by the people that it’s shared with. Please reread this post from Mitty. It explains in great detail what I’m talking about, especially with this band, the Phish from Vermont, in this room, Madison Square Garden.
All that was just a loooong introduction to the following: 108 was the best section in the Phishstory of great sections last night. There was somuchfuckinglove and so many neural connections flying around. Everywhere I looked was the face of joy, and I knew and loved so many of those faces, and even those I didn’t, we locked eyes and we shared smiles, and moments, and love and light and music, the very best music…it was fucking magic. Old songs new songs red songs blue songs. Old friends new friends Freaks friends best friends. I had me a time. The best part last, my wife was my +1. Let’s get it on!
So to bring my Phishstory full circle, they opened with “Turtle in the Clouds,” you know that song that I think is about shit, like actual poo, and I had just discussed this song in the hallway with Puba, a fellow Freak who’s been on this journey with me since way back in 93, and just like my relationship with the band, we were close and then we weren’t (nothing happened, just grew apart) and now he’s a part of my life that I simply couldn’t do without. He’s the one who introduced me to all of you, in a manner of speaking. So another new song with an old friend who’s new again, and I loved it. Fun and sprightly and it reminds me not to take myself too seriously. So while Mike and Trey botched their choreography {ok it was Trey it’s always Trey}, Page raged until the dance was over and BOOM! Trey’s first solo is a heater. “The Moma Dance” is always a funky good time. {“The moment ends though I feel winds blowing differently than ever before…” WAIT!!! Bryan Baum said the Charlie Palmer steak sandwich is not dead – that it lives under a new name at City Prime gate 117. I’ll be sure to verify that tonight and confirm with Hollander.} So a fiery Moma into an upbeat and rockabilly “Kill Devil Falls” for 31 highly danceable set-starting minutes, already worth both the opportunity and actual cost of the tickets I gave up to be here. “Yarmouth Road” presented an opportunity to hit the head, an idea obviously shared by many as the line was 40 deep into the concourse by the time I was done. My wife had a quote that summed up my feelings on this tune but it’s not fit to print – I just hope the old brain cells are working and this jogs my memory when I read this back one day. A poignant and concise “The Wedge” followed by Vida Blue’s “Beauty of a Broken Heart,” in which Page obviously shined while Trey flexed his muscles a bit. “Fuego” is always fun and this was no exception.
Now while this set reads meh so far on paper, it’s interesting to note that at this point I put in my notes, “Trey is impassioned tonight, the second set is gonna be off the chain!!!” Prescient, I know. “My Friend, My Friend” had a bit of a rocky start but recovered to be a sinister rocker, “Birds of a Feather” was short and sweet and with it came the arrival of a blowup doll to our section, cuz everyone knows the party can’t really start till the blowup doll gets there, and then, THEN!, THEN!!!, “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and the place went apeshit. Absolute face-melting delight. Like, Trey-took-a-bow good, and if that were the set closer, then a great one it would have been, but “Walls of the Cave” took that honor, at first eliciting a “what’s the point” in my notes until building to a “that’s the point” peak. Sometimes reading a setlist just doesn’t tell the whole story, as would be the case for this one.
Set break is always a blast, too, and this one was no exception. Way back on night one, I thought it would be cute to hand out a few calling cards to some Freaks I didn’t know on the concourse. Easily identified by their signature NYCFreaks swag, I handed out exactly 4 cards bearing the inscription “Fuck Yeah” on the front, with a handwritten note on the back, something to the effect of “Looking good!” or “Merry Phishmas, Freak!” and just signed, “Marc.” Coincidentally, even though the rabbi always insists there are no coincidences, I passed one to a Freak I had been trying to meet, but having no clue who he was or what he looked like. We didn’t talk that first night, I just kind of shoved the card in his hand and kept going. Fast forward to intermission night two, I stop to chat with Ryan Abramow who introduces me to Adam Scharfberg who was like, “Wait, you gave me that card last night!” Needless to say, Scharf and I have been trying to meet for some time and I wouldn’t trade any of those lost opportunities in the past for the tale of how it actually went down. Bashert. More such stories to come. And then I made my wife take a sordid picture next to a five-pound hot dog and, just like that, it was time for set dos. Point of note, my step count still rolling, we completed a full lap of the lower concourse which weighed in at 632 steps.
The second set opened at 10:13 with the very best kind of “Carini,” both hard and fast and penetrating and sinister in equal measure, with a CK5 light trip to match that ultimately got whisper quiet before finding “Back on the Train.” This relatively straightforward hip-shaking beauty had some white hot peaks before Trey led the band into a mind-bending “Bathtub Gin” that had no trouble finding evil space, leading me to think that our spaceship might indeed take off during it’s darker moments. Sixteen glorious minutes later, “Golden Age” emerged into “2001,” another killer take on the heels of the beauty played 26 days earlier at the Met: a space odyssey of the highest order. “Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley,” a rarely played funk standard that gave Page a chance to shine on the Clav, preceded a standard “Chalk Dust Torture” and an off the charts “Harry Hood” to close the set. The Hood note, yeah, that one, clocked in at an impressive and emotional 1:54, a final triumphant wail on a heater of a second set. Just captioning the obvious here, but Trey fucking loves being a rock star, especially on this grandest of stages, Madison Square Garden, his homecourt. Can there be a better feeling than being the puppet master with 20,000 faithful phans on the end of minute and fifty-four second puppet string? Me thinks not.
“Show of Life” gave Trey a chance to “thank us all” in this lyrical beauty before a show ending “Run Like an Antelope.” And with that, night 2 was fashionably in the books, an amazing show all around with a scorching second set.
3:04. 19,674 steps (being on the aisle sure helps the step count!)
For those who say this band’s lyrics suck, I bring you Show of Life, co-penned by Anastasio and the Dude of Life, Steve Pollak (who you can find if you look closely in my NYE pics):
It’s no easy road
this stuggle and strife
We find ourselves in the show of life
What’s on the schedule
What’s on our plan
Do you ever ignore
What you don’t understand?
Don’t ask me ’cause I don’t know
I just fasten my seat belt wherever I go
It’s been perfectly planned
it’s completely insane
it’s a revolving cast
but’s its the same old game
Waves of people
They come and they go
Shine for a while
It’s a marvelous show
It’s a limited time that we exist
We slowly make our way into the mist
My thoughts are racing
I see faces of the friends that I recall
I’d like to take this time to thank you all
Just as the blind imagine
what it is to have sight
We slowly take a stroll into the night
It’s no easy road
This struggle and strife
We find ourselves in the show of life
SET 1: Turtle in the Clouds, The Moma Dance > Kill Devil Falls, Yarmouth Road, The Wedge, Beauty of a Broken Heart, Fuego > My Friend, My Friend[1] > Birds of a Feather, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Walls of the Cave
SET 2: Carini > Back on the Train > Bathtub Gin > Golden Age > Also Sprach Zarathustra > Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley > Chalk Dust Torture, Harry Hood
ENCORE: Show of Life > Run Like an Antelope
[1] No “Myfe” ending