2019/12/31 Phish @ MSG (New Year’s Eve; Night 4)
Nothing quite like taking in a whole run, and there are only a handful of bands where I’d want to insist upon seeing every show played. Phish qualifies, bar none. And I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw every night of a run. I’ve done 2 of 4, 3 of 4, 4, what have you, but haven’t batted .1000 in quite some time, at least with this band. It’s just super cool when a venue like MSG becomes home and the security guards call you by name. #TrudyFTW. So after three awesome nights with, each one better than the last but all of them stellar, it was finally New Year’s Eve. And after the barnburner that was 12/30, all the pressure was off, because while the bar is always high on New Year’s, and there’s usually some kind of tension as to whether the gag and the music will meet what are often lofty expectations, this was all just gravy. A victory lap after a terrific run, the exclamation point on a fabulous year and a kickass decade. So, “Play Whatever the Fuck You Want” (thanks again Charleston N3 sign guy for publicly displaying my sentiment) and let’s get this show on the road.
“Martian Monster,” “Buried Alive,” and AC/DC Bag” got the show on the road, indeed, succinct high energy thrillers each and every one. “Halley’s Comet” is always awesome, and this version got out there before taking a hard if somewhat odd {read: awkward} turn into “Prince Caspian.” A rowdy “Sparkle” floated from the waves > an even more rambunctious “Axilla.” Enter Zamfir and the return of the Pan Flute story. Not my favorite, but Phish was very comfortably being Phish, highly engaged in a go nowhere/no point/no punchline story. You either love ‘em or you hate ‘em. I love ‘em. It’s all good. I like when they do silly shit, just as I embrace songs with silly lyrics. It’s all part of the company motto they’ve been flaunting since day one: Don’t take yourself too seriously (while maintaining the utmost of professionalism, mind you, and always in pursuit of perfection).
Tale done told, Page hit the “Deep Note” THX intro (see Providence N2) and “Maze” was off to the races, led by Page with a visit to my now well-documented favorite of his keys, the baby grand. “Fluffhead” is always a treat and this one was no exception, with nearly perfect composition, piercing guitar solos, Flea-esque bass slaps, and a very predictable glowstick war. {I sure do hope no one got hurt as there were some folks throwing that shit with serious intent — Mom always says “Don’t play ball in the house.”} “Rise/Come Together” closed the super high energy 72 minutes first frame set with juicy solos, chunky bass, and rat-a-tat-tat goodness from the dude in the donut dress. In other words, typical set-ending oomph, and a really nice version of a very good song.
More setbreak shenanigans, including a mission to find band-aids for my chafing nipples (heavy dancing under my Ewing jersey). Don’t judge, this here is the Truth and nothing but the Truth.
The second of three sets, and the last normal one before the third set gag, opened with “Punch You in the Eye,” more Page on the baby grand, and “Wolfman’s Brother,” but the telephone never rang. I mean, that’s everyone’s favorite part, right? Right?!?! Parts of the Wolfman’s felt botched, with Mike and Page forming the night’s first rescue squad for big red, getting funky on the bass and Clav, respectively, and ultimately giving Trey the time and space to go dark and improvisational. “Light” had a meh start and a kickass finish, with a jam sequence very reminiscent of the Allman Brothers “Mountain Jam” that caused the capacity crowd to go absolutely bonkers. More evidence that sometimes goodness comes from the most unsuspecting of places as this one snuck up on me big time. “Twist” emerged from the “Light,” a monster bass heavy jam, while Trey went apeshit, his tone ultra groovy and psychedelic. “Soul Planet,” though relatively short, went deep enough to make the song unrecognizable before emerging into “Mercury” in a sequence of recent NYE repeats. I’ve heard about some folks who measure there dancing in steps as calculated by their fitness devices. “Possum” worked double time ito inflate those counts and close the second set, all 70 minutes and 7,7466 steps worth.
It’s always fun to try to figure out what’s going to happen next. Texts coming in from all over the place, from the next section over to Minnesota, with predictions about what would unfold. The stage had been stripped bare, no amps, no instruments, monitors, or wires. “They’re setting up a stage on Seventh Ave” was my favorite. And I’m in here…fuuuuck. 47 minutes later, some banter through the PA that we accidentally on purpose became privy to. “A cappella jazz ballads, let’s give the people what they want!” Um, no thanks, even as my seatmate was like, “cool” and I was all, “wait, what? Pass.” So the Phish from Vermont took the unadorned stage in colored jumpsuits: Trey, green; Page, blue; Mike, yellow; and Fish, in an inverted muumuu, this one red with blue donuts. And with that, the first ever a cappella version of “Send in the Clones” was underway, lyrics altered in a nod to the imminent New Year’s gag. As matching colored platforms descended from the ceiling, “First Tube” rang out as the band ascended to perform from 30 feet above the stage, now flooded with clones, ten for each member of the quartet, who performed a super entertaining and choreographed routine, in jumpsuits and wigs to match their alter-egos. What really struck me as they danced for the rest of the night was that they were dancing somehow exactly how the music made me feel. Or maybe I was just projecting. But that’s exactly how I would dance if: a) I could dance and; b) my seat afforded the luxury of that much space. “Auld Lang Syne” rang in the New Year, as Red, Yellow, Green and Blue balloons cascaded from the ceiling and blanketed the Garden.
A choreographed “Sand” ensued as the band continued to play from platforms that moved both up and down, all except for the Green one. Sand was fun as hell, as the hippie version of a “Thriller” dance played out before my eyes. But there was a mounting sense of tension with the Green platform.12:09 am. All platforms down, Trey suspended 30 feet above the stage on a tilted platform. Something was wrong. Silence. Popping balloons. Many popping balloons. He looks scared. Is this still the gag? You never know with Phish. 12:13 am. 12:14 am. “Maybe this would be a good time for me to do one of those Eddie Vedder stage dives – you guys would catch me, right?” Right??? 12:15 am. “I’ll just play from here, oh well.” Is this real? I really don’t think so. That platform is tilted and stopped moving during Sand. 12:16 am. “Drift While You’re Sleeping.” And it was hot, but no one in the building was comfortable: our fearless leader was trapped on a faulty rig, and neither the band nor the crowd alike could keep from glaring as Trey played on his knees, his platform stil askance. I’m not comfortable with this. 12:28 am. “What’s the Use?” If he’s still stuck, like actually stuck, then this is going to be a looooong fucking night beacuse I’m not going anywhere until they get him down from there. Chris Kuroda was worked into the gag, too, as the clones each held circular mirrors that they used to reflect overhead stage lights to create an arena wide choreographed light show of reflection that had to be a high water mark for the band’s fifth member, CK5. 12:35 am. Trey’s still up there and it seems like he’s gonna finish the show before they get this figured out.
“YEM.” White hot and smoking, 40 cloned dancers still going apeshit in a glorious Phish dance party of the highest order, and it was, as they spent weeks rehearsing for this. It also can’t be overstated how accurately their dancing portrayed my feelings, interpretive dance at it Phinest. Bass bombs and solos, a vocal jam with 10 times its normal strength as the clones were also mic’d, this YEM, although not improvised in typical Phish fashion, was one for the ages. Shit.I 12:52 am. He’s still fucking up there. “Pretend we just walked off,” – well you can’t fucking come down from there so we’re gonna have to – “and we just came back, ok, here’s your encore.”
“Tweeprise!” Glorious, marvelous, Trey still on his knees, explosive fucking goodness. And now we gotta get him down. Bandmates leave. Trey hangs (see what I did there) and uses his time and guitar to pen “Rescue Squad,” an improv number about his hopefully imminent descent to stable ground. {Update: Rescue shirts now on sale at drygoods.phish.com.} S o finally they raise Fish’s platform while Trey steps over and descends, but not before grabbing Fish’s sticks, obviously Trey can play drums, too, and beats out the ending to “Rescue Squad.” 1:00 am. Hugs for Gertrude, the usher for 108/107 and hostess with the mostest, and all my people in nearby sections Four days later, it’s time to go home.
3:07. 21,407 steps.
Four-night runs don’t leave much time for writing. Thus, I got backed up and had ample time to reflect. This run was really good. Top quality wordsmithing, I know, but it was a flawless run. N1 was everything you ask for in a Phish show, the first of four especially, even though this one may not be remembered with any type of historical significance. N2 had an amazing first set, good enough to let me know in advance that a set 2 scorcher was on the way, one that will be remembered for some time. N3 set one was as good as a first set gets, legendary in its own right, until both it and the glory of the N2 set 2 were forgotten in one fell swoop with a 35-minute Tweezer and a four song second set for the record books. N4 (NYE) was top notch, living up to the hype and the quality of the previous nights, both up to and including the gag and its technical difficulties. The band, Trey in particular, showed professionalism and resilience beyond compare for the NYE set, along with a cleverly crafted gag that, even though they didn’t pull off flawlessly, they pulled of flawlessly. MSG 2019 should be remembered with the best of ‘em.
Final stats: 9 sets, 11 hours and 57 minutes of music, less a story about a pan (x2) and some technical difficulties. 76,359 steps.
Best jam: Tweezer
Best song: While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Honorable Mention: 46 Days
Most Daring: Tweezer Reprise
Most Comical: Ass-Handed Reprise
Best Choreography: YEM
Best Debut: Rescue Squad
SET 1: Martian Monster, Buried Alive, AC/DC Bag, Halley’s Comet > Prince Caspian > Sparkle > Axilla, Maze, Fluffhead > Rise/Come Together
SET 2: Punch You in the Eye, Wolfman’s Brother > Light > Twist > Soul Planet > Mercury > Possum
SET 3: Send in the Clowns[1], First Tube, Auld Lang Syne, Sand, Drift While You’re Sleeping, What’s the Use?, You Enjoy Myself
ENCORE: Tweezer Reprise, Rescue Squad[2]
[1] Phish debut; with lyrics changed to “Send in the clones” and performed a cappella.
[2] Debut; only Trey.