“Shrooms, molly, ketamine, pre-rolls!”
As soon as we stepped in line, the Phish experience was off to a raging start. After almost fifteen years, Phish returned to the Greek Theatre in Berkeley California for a night of mind-melting Monday madness on April 17th. Although the line was long, anticipation was high, baked in a bubble of hashish fumes that enclosed the Grecian arena in a dome of good vibes, magical (though sporadic) sunshine, and far-out jams.
Before I continue, let me say, to especially my fellow Gen Zers, that I know what you’re thinking—
Phish?
…Really?
—but before you cancel your B-Side subscriptions,* let me take you back to a year and a half ago when I first began drafting this article after my phirst show at the Chase Center in San Francisco on October 16th, 2021 (specific locations and dates are very important in the Phish community).
After ten years of non-consensual exposure to hours of Phish radio, watching live streams, and hearing my dad geek out over his concert experiences, I thought I knew what to expect when I finally agreed to go to a show with him. In short, I was wrong.
Phish is an enigma. They rarely receive media coverage on the same scale as other 80s dad rock bands and yet they consistently sell tickets and play venues of the same magnitude. Such a massive and dedicated underground following could easily add to the band’s hipster appeal if only their recorded music was better. But to most, it’s not.
For elitists and audiophiles looking to bash a mediocre band, Phish is low-hanging fruit. Their recorded material largely seems to be a joke among phans and is even less popular amongst the laymen. Even if someone doesn’t particularly care for The Grateful Dead, it’s still likely they would be able to recognize a hit or two. However, the same logic does not apply to Phish. Outside of their cult following, they are relatively unknown beyond ridicule and quick-witted punchlines. But how does a band with this reputation sell out Madison Square Garden 13 nights in the span of 17 days?
The answer had eluded me for years. I was told many times that to understand the band’s appeal, I just had to go to a show. Yeah, sure. There was no way my years of hatred towards the band’s music could be erased by a single concert experience. No, instead my first show left me with a pseudo identity crisis as I tried to figure out what it means that—holy shit, Phish is actually good?
Photo by Lily Ramus
Flash forward a year and a half and there I was, frantically logging into my Ticketmaster account trying to score tickets for Phish’s three night run at the Greek with little success. But thanks to B-Side, Phish’s PR team, and my dad—shoutout Mark—I was all set to round out my college experience with a few nights to (hopefully) remember.
After completing what felt like a hero’s journey getting into the venue, as we settled into our spot at the middle-front of the lawn, the band launched into “Carini,” a certified crowd-pleaser and as a metalhead, my favorite Phish song. Things didn’t get too lengthy or far-out (and it was certainly nothing like the Carini encore from my first show) but it had a nice funky groove that ended in a major key bliss jam as the final rays of sun slipped behind the clouds. Afterward, frontman and guitarist Trey Anastasio gave a shout out to “Frenchie,” a streaker from Phish’s 2022 run at Dick’s Sporting Goods Park in Colorado who sadly passed away from cancer the previous day.
As a jazz musician, for me another highlight from the first set was “Stash” —a mostly instrumental song that featured some smooth guitar work and tones from Trey, alongside tight grooving from drummer Jon Fishman. The crowd participation during this song, which includes precisely timed claps and yells, was endearing to watch and a testament to the dedication of Phish fans and their intimate knowledge of the band’s discography (which includes more than 800 songs).**
During the first set closer—“Theme From the Bottom”—light artist CK5, regarded by many as a fifth member of the band, began to work his magic and as the sun descended into the bay, we all bundled our jackets tighter and headed for the bathroom line to wait for set two.
The second set opened with a nice little bluesy jam on “My Soul,” originally by Cliften Chenier, but the real magic began when Trey laid down the opening riff to “Tweezer.” The crowd went crazy, foreshadowing the absolute madness that was about to occur. Then, for the next 44 minutes, Phish laid down a far-reaching monster jam that has lovingly been crowned the “Greezer” or perhaps, the “Tweeker” (Tweezer + Greek Theatre).
Before I even attempt to unpack some of the highlights, first a little background for those of you not as deep in the phandom. Phish is a live band. What might have started as a dumb, goofy dad rock song with sophomoric lyrics and predictable instrumentation becomes utterly fascinating when you realize 10 or 15 minutes in that the song has changed profoundly since it began. Therein lies the main attraction to Phish and their music.
The band’s composed material merely serves as a template for the live improvised jams that follow, and in the grand scheme of the extended piece it is easy to look past the two or three minutes spent on the original song; the jam has transcended that, becoming something else entirely, something really good. After spending 10-30 minutes in this intermediary space between the song’s written structure and improvisatory ground, the final descent into the return of the theme is nothing short of triumphant. The piece has come full circle but is now imbued with the feeling of movement, of a journey; we have visited far away places without ever leaving the comfort of the living room, a successful homage to the psychedelic experience.
And believe me, Phish voyaged to some far away places in this 44 minute “Tweezer,” which was one of the longest of all time. After finishing the head of the tune, the band launched into a preliminary improvisatory section that, while patient, climaxed in a hard and heavy metal blowout featuring screaming guitar and flashing strobe lights.
But after that, things got weird. Poking around phish.net, an online forum where phans post reviews and ratings of shows, I found one phan who described this ambient section as “murky sounding swamp sounds” that conjured images of “spelunking down the bottom of a cave” (@nomidwestlove on phish.net). It was wet and spacey, far-out and swampy “Interstellar Overdrive.”
Then, in what I can only describe as a feeling similar to holding your palm up against a vacuum, came a somewhat awkward transition back into the main riff of the song. Phish seemed not to want to linger here phor long, and this section soon gave way to a start/stop jam that included some confused, but delighted, crowd participation.
Photo by Lily Ramus
Finally to round things out, Phish shared another few minutes of major-key exuberance before the sound dissolved into an intro jam for “Simple.” I don’t remember a lot from “Simple.” I was still recovering and trying to comprehend the awesome feat of musicianship I had just watched unfold, but at this point of the night the band was warmed up and the jam immediately took flight.
To close out the second set, Phish turned to The Velvet Underground with a cover of “Rock and Roll,” a personal favorite and a nice contrast to the rest of the set. They encored with “Miss You” (in memory of Frenchie perhaps?) and a quick “Sand,” closing out night one four minutes before the Greek’s hard 10 p.m. weekday curfew.
As I walked home against the backdrop of colorful nitrous balloons and steaming hotdog stands, I reflected on the sense of nostalgia Phish and their music (psychedelia in general?) carry for me. I’ve only been to two shows, but these songs were the backdrop of my childhood and throughout the show, as I waded through familiar melodies and deep jam space, memories percolated to the surface. Weekend drives to the ski park, birthdays, camping trips, and so many more appeared behind my eyes in a magical testament to the power of music and psychedelic ethos.
For those of you who have made it this far but are still raising your eyebrows in skepticism, I pass unto thee the advice of many before me:
You just have to go to a show (although good luck getting a ticket).
Article and photos by Lily Ramus
* Jokes on us, B-Side will always be free.
** This number includes both covers and originals.