Review by Shawn Perry
You’d never know there was anything amiss when Phish came to Nashville. A few weary souls wore their masks (me included), but for the most part, the Phish heads or “phans” or whatever their followers are called, were out in force, unmasked, and primed for two nights of Vermont’s finest. The Ascend’s intimate feel and general flow provided the perfect atmosphere for a blend of quirky detours and funky inroads.
It’s hard to say if the pit for fit and ample dancers was festering with Phish cooties or other types of stimulation. The minute the band came on, the faithful were stirred into a frenzy and the bounce of the salsa-flavored “Punch You In The Eye” certainly had them sambaing in the aisles and air pockets. There was a slight pause before they fell into a soulful, dreamy rendition of the Brothers Johnson song, “Strawberry Letter 23,” keeping the mood light and loose. It was early, and Nashville needed to ease into what was ahead.
Any show that includes “Sample In A Jar” is bound to turn out well, and Phish played a version that would have made the dance with Elihu on Leemor’s bed well worth the ride. A short acknowledgement, and off they were into the doo-wop mire of “Haley’s Comet” and the tentative joy of “Backwards Down The Number” that allowed guitarist Trey Anastasio to open up on the fretboard. Darkness settled in, and the light show showered the crowd in colors and aspirations as Page McConnell spanked the clavinet on “Undermind” and got feet moving. All this and more before a stoic “Divided Sky” parted the airwaves and offered rising hope to those in altered spirits.
Tonight, the debut of bassist Mike Gordon’s of “Mull” pushed those who really care and keeping stats into pure ecstasy. An anxious few undoubtedly scrambled to document the moment and probably held out for lengthy discussions about it with like-minded zanies, well into the morning hours. Never mind the song’s jangle and pulsating electric piano lining — its inaugural time and date are what matter most.
You couldn’t ignore Anastasio’s screaming lead work, pushed on by drummer Jon Fishman’s ferocious rolls during the wind-down of “About To Run.” Set closer “The Squirming Coil,” from Phish’s second album, 1990’s Lawn Boy, builds on a loopy progression, largely grounded by McConnell’s succulent piano. For the song’s last two minutes, the keyboardist held the spotlight, deftly punctuating the notes and lulling the audience into a state of bliss.
“Party Time” lead off the second set, not that anyone needed any encouragement. There were a lot of ways the band could have gone, and this might not have been one of the better choices — unless you were there to move. That’s a strong incentive, because this number has everything going for it in terms of rhythm and execution. As it began to fizzle, the need to shake even more was spurred on by “No Man In No Man’s Land.”
When you first hear “Possum,” as this seasoned Phish dweller did back in 1998, it’s astonishing to think someone would actually hang the name on such an innocuous tune. Once it becomes clear the possum in question was hit by a car, the road becomes a metaphorical end-game without purpose. Tonight’s “Possum,” like most, was about unification in the broadest sense. Then a wistful “When The Circus Comes To Town” brought the masses to a standstill.
“Light” expanded on the group’s neo-progressive tendencies, while the widely played and universally loved “You Enjoy Myself,” an early one from 1990’s Junta, took those same tendencies into an entirely different direction. Requiring a little audience participation via its share of “Boy” and “Man,” it was the right way to end the main second set.
As is their practice, Phish rushed out for a quick encore, diving right into a rambunctious take of the Rolling Stones’ ‘Loving Cup.” The pit came alive and lit a Music City fuse. Those in for the long haul were already speculating on what could happen tomorrow night. These are the same hearty and enterprising spirits following the band around all summer. God bless them all. Hopefully, the variants can be contained and we’ll live to see another tour, because the music can never stop.
