SHARING THE SHOWS
The two-year anniversary of how the “Not Enough Concerts” saying came to be. Two years ago, I went with Drew/Brometheus. Last year, I went with Ashley on the first night, and Kelly hooked me up with a face value tic on NYE at the 23rd hour 59th minute. Tonight, I was slated to go solo.
Except I wasn’t. I met up with a friend named Shawn, who traveled from Hollywood, Florida to see this show. We had a nice dinner at this pub on Eighth Avenue, where I indulged in a lovely seafood bisque (see picture: fish before Phish, hahahah, get it?) and the creamiest chicken pot pie I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying. After buying some souvenirs for my people back in Virginia, going back to the pub to retrieve my umbrella, and Shawn getting a Metrocard for his visit, we made our way to the venue. This year, they ran all backpacks through baggage scanners a la the airport. Last year, they took mine aside because it had my laptop in it. I guess they’re really cracking down now. Oh well, can’t be too careful, I suppose. Shawn and I were in different sections, and I made it to my seat at 7:00, about a half hour (75 minutes, in real time) before the show started. Very few people around, which I love (ironic for a devoted concertgoer, right?). Being the book nerd that I am, I had four books in my bag (two of which I had finished on the train ride in). The other two are in progress. One is Gregg Allman’s autobiography, My Cross to Bear, and the other is another called The Introvert’s Way, by Sophia Dembling. As the place became more populated, I continued reading until a dude behind me asked me what I was reading, to which I showed him the cover. “Ironic, right?” I asked. He laughed, and we chatted for a bit. The dude’s name was TJ from Sussex County, NJ. His girlfriend had gotten him this show as a gift. She seemed a bit disengaged, and TJ seemed to need real Phishy connections for that moment, so I was happy to provide it. The lights went down at 8:15, same as always for a 7:30 show. Shawn had called “Wilson for the opener,” and I called “Carini.” Instead, we got a song called “We Are Come to Outlive Our Brains,” which I hadn’t remembered hearing. Except I had. For the uninitiated, Phish dons a “musical costume” every Halloween they play, which involves them covering another artist’s album. In 1994, it was The Beatles’s White Album, 1995 was Quadrophenia, and 2016 was David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust. This past Halloween, the boys invented a Scandinavian band called Kasvot Vaxt, which they claim translates to “faceplant into rock.” This was one of the songs, which I dug. The first set was fairly standard for my liking: “Martian Monster,” “Axilla,” “Meat,” “Ghost,” “Sparkle,” “Maze,” and “Walls of the Cave.” “If I Could” stood out to me, as Phish rarely plays it, and it was only the second time I had heard it live (the first was 6/28/00 at PNC Bank Arts Center in Holmdel, NJ). “Ghost” had a nice spacey jam, and the crowd erupted during “Walls of the Cave.” During “Meat,” I gathered some material for an interesting story: The dude standing next to me left his seat, and was replaced a young lady who was asking me his friend about a guy named “Eddie.” I didn’t know “Eddie” and this person didn’t know (I’m operating under the assumption Eddie was the guy who had left). She danced in his spot for a while. He came back to his seat, and she wrapped his arms around him. He promptly walked away. She danced for a few more minutes, looking a little distracted, and then left. “Romantic drama?” I wrote in my notepad. After I returned from saying my hellos to folks at setbreak, a woman had come in, sitting next to the dude who was sitting next to me. We all talked, and I introduced myself as “Craig.” When she heard I was from Virginia, she said, “are you the guy who was reading before the show!?” I was shocked. “Yeah,” I said. Apparently, TJ had told her a guy from Virginia was reading before the show. I should start bringing books to ALL the shows I go to. The second set amped it up. They started with “Set Your Soul Free,” a tune I fell in love with when I heard it in San Francisco this past summer (7/25/18). Tunes from Billy Breathes are always welcome in my world (“Swept Away & “Steep”). “The Final Hurrah” had me dancing pretty actively (“Faceplant into Rock!” is the signature line). “Fuego” is okay in my book, “Shade” was a nice mellow surprise, “Bathtub Gin” jammed, and “Possum” closed out the second set beautifully. “Bouncing Around the Room” and “Slave” rounded out the show nicely. The aftershow at MSG is always a trip. The nitrous mafia essentially owns 33rd Street. You hear the “hissssssssss” from the nitrous tanks, and you see balloons (and people) strewn about the street. Ahhhhhh, New York. The dude in front of me, Dylan from Hoboken, fell down the stairs going into the PATH train to Hoboken. I helped him up, and he offered to swipe me into the PATH. I didn’t feel 100% right taking it, but he insisted. It turned out to only have $1.15 on it, to which I said, “No worries.” It’s way more valuable for me to help someone without some kind of reward. Good karma. The PATH got into Hoboken at 12:38, and my train to my Mom’s house in Suffern was slated to leave at 12:40, so I made like an Olympic sprinter and dashed toward the train, which I was thankful to have made. And so ended a fun night. This year, I decided one show would be enough. This was my 10th Phish show this year, and as much as I love this phoursome, I like a little variety in my life. I’m saving for a trip to Red Rocks in Colorado this summer to see Widespread Panic, and I have a five-year goal to buy a house. Sometimes we just have to surrender to the flow which is known as the show of life (Hahahhah…I’ll never give up those Phishy puns, like the character in my screenplay who owns a dog named Jim, and when he walks away, her friend who laughs at his own jokes says, “Don’t’ run away Jim” and then he cracks up at his joke while the rest of the group rolls their eyes). Of course, I can’t give them up entirely, because ideas for my screenplay come. In fact, that whole drama during “Meat” provided some material for some romantic conflict involving one of my protagonists. Thanks, Phish! You faceplant into rock! Hahhahahah…
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So now that the temperatures have dropped, motivation to go out has decreased. And I was thinking about not going to this one, but I forced myself into it, and in Maggie’s words, “They only come once a year.” Ultimately, I got the ticket, and for the first time, I used the AXS app to show my ticket. I’m nostalgic for printed stubs, but it’s nice not to have to carry them around.
After some awesome Greek food and a near-scare with my gas tank (don’t you hate when it’s almost on “E” and there doesn’t seem to be a gas station in sight?), Maggie, Gary, Mark, Drew, and I, our party posse of five, made it to the show. Literally when they started. But first, that picture up top cracks me up every time. Doesn’t it sound as if illicit drug use is allowed if you’re of age? And what is the age to use illegal drugs? That’s the English teacher in me. They opened up with “Black Throated Wind,” one of my favs. Mark, our Deadhead scholar of the group, immediately thought the show was from 1972. When they followed with a slow “Friend of the Devil,” I agreed, definitely 1970s. “On the Road Again” was groovy (the characters in my screenplay sing it as they hit the road from New Jersey to Big Cypress, that Phishy Y2K extravaganza). I like the Dead’s faster songs more than the slower ones, so a first-set highlight for me was the “It’s All Over Now” that followed “Ramble on Rose.” When they broke out Robbie Robertson’s “Broken Arrow,” which the Dead started playing in 1993, Mark instinctually said, “Elective.” They concluded the first set with “Day Job,” loathed by a lot of Deadheads, but loved by me. I’ve considered it a theme song (one of the characters in my screenplay sings it as she has to go to a class in her high school). Set 2 opened with a classic Helpontheway-Slipknot-Franklins Tower trifecta. I’m in the minority on “Corrina” (Mark started playing with this phone during the song), but I sang and danced. Then “Dark Star” came (a classic tune, but I’m more into the newer Dead; generational thing, I suppose). Then there was a Drums-Space jam, during which they teased Traffic’s “Low Spark of High Heeled Boys” (I was pissed when they didn’t actually play it), “China Doll,” “Terrapin Station,” and “Blow Away.” They then went into The Beatles’s “Hey Jude” to bring us back to reality. JGB’s “I’ll Take a Melody” followed (thank you, Mark, for the tidbit), and “Goin’ Down the Road” closed the second set. They encored with Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit,” which fed my head pretty nicely. Mark had a good thought about the shows being a kind of meditation. And it’s apt. The music gets me in touch with my spirituality; it’s a cool way to “introvert” while in a public place and with friends and still not feel like a freak, like certain elementary school teachers might label you as (thinks: hmmmm, personal issues?). Anyway, writing about the shows has been an awesome outlet and helps me observe and introvert simultaneously. Side notes:
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AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
May 2024
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