Posted by [When I unearthed a trove of notes that I’d written in the immediate aftermath of Phish’s most recent return-from-hiatus I was shocked to notice just how much these sacred scrolls differed from my long-since-written memories. This was extra-surprising given how memorable the weekend in Hampton (and NYC) had been. However divergent, in their honour I have decided to preserve those hallowed transcripts in this detailed and strongly rewritten postscript to the original, likely much more fallible writeup to the run’s middle show which occurred on March 7th, 2009.]
On night two of The Return of Phish it turned out that our earlier start towards the venue with a bagful of beer and a magnum of champagne wasn’t early enough, as our plan to leave most of the drinks at a friend’s nearby hotel room in preparation for post-show libations was foiled when we discovered that m’lady’s friends had already left for the lot. As a result I was somewhat laden with booze when I hit will call to pick up the Saturday night extra ticket that m’lady had arranged to sell to one of her friends, so after the exchange was made we sat around drinking beers like we were training for it. During my wait at will call I heard Reba being played inside. I asked the guard if she would open the door so we could hear the soundcheck better and she smiled at me like I was kidding. Weirdo.
We definitely had too much alcohol with us to realistically drink it all before showtime so I went on a little sales tour through the closest end of the lot. I sold all of our coldies in no time flat and did a wee bit of shopping too, returning to m’lady with a brand-spankin’ new one-hitter and a powerfully delicious brownie taboot.
As showtime approached our large bottle of champagne remained untouched so m’lady pulled off an epic sneak-in, sleight-of-handing the magnum past diligent security despite the comically large bottle weighing around a third of her body mass. We found her friends holding down seats for us in the same basic area as we had been on night one and everyone shrieked like schoolchildren when m’lady ceremoniously popped the champagne bottle, launching the cork damn near the cavernous ceiling, from which hung new oversized balloons.
I gaped upwards and hoped against hope that they were going drop those big balloons again like they had done during the encore the night before. That had been so very, very cool.
Pre-show socializing was a flurry; everyone was so overjoyed with being in the building that a pleasantly giddy atmosphere simply couldn’t be avoided. The crowd seemed more relaxed than the first night, as the nervous edge that had pulsed through the room on Friday night had been lifted and replaced with a more familiar, almost regular-show comfort. I took advantage of my pre-show time to hunt down and purchase a two variants of a the weekend’s very awesome gig poster, which mimicked and enbiggened the colourful PTBM ticket stub.
When the lights dimmed to begin the show the crowd roared, but the decibel level didn’t even remotely resemble the outstanding din that had welcomed the band on the first night. Understandable, and another indicator that the world was already ready for a regular old Phish show.
They went with Back On The Train for the opener, a song that many had been calling as the first night opener. Joke’s on us, as per usual. The first set rocked us through Runaway Jim and SOAMelt, and the cult-like singalong in PYITE was a joy to behold. The band was sounding so good that it already didn’t feel like a reunion anymore.
Their obvious preparation for these shows made it easy for me to drift close to that old familiar vibe that I used to always get at Phish shows. It started to feel like they hadn’t gone anywhere, or like I hadn’t. The set-closing Run Like An Antelope transformed the Mothership into a time machine as we warped backwards a decade or so, back to a time when Phish was quite simply the greatest band in the world.
Speaking of the greatest in the world: once again light-guy extraordinaire Chris Kuroda kicked my eyeballs from one side of my head to the other. Near the end of the setbreak I went down to the floor section right next to where Chris was. There were these Jersey tough guys down there that suggested I move on, but I explained that CK5 had been knocking me out and I wanted to see the first song of the second set from his perspective. They soon warmed up to me, sharing bowls and hugs and making me their bestest buddy while they continued to kick out anyone else that dared squeeze their space.
Amid my newfound camaraderie I turned to the light board and eyed my visual hero scrunched over his workstation. “Hey, Chris!” I yelled. Nothing.
“Hey, CHRIS!” I yelped again, this time with serious heart and an oomph of gusto.
He turns and I catch his eye. “When you landed that airplane onstage during the vocal jam last night,” I shouted earnestly, “You really kind of freaked me out.” He smiled broadly and raised a Buddha-like hand to silence me, then he gave me a wink as the lights dimmed to begin the second set. The timing was impeccable; it was like the lights went down perfectly on cue with Chris’ eyelid. It gives me shivers to recall.
I stayed down there for the Rock & Roll opener and half of Limb By Limb and enjoyed the soundboard-ish view immensely. On my way out my seat bro’s invited me back the next night.
The second set continued to live up to the déjà vu as well. Phish unquestionably turned in a completely different sort of show than the first night, one that was conspicuously less celebratory and clearly more back-in-the-saddle. During a blistering jam in Weekapaug Groove the band started to really hit their stride (in a three-night-run sense), and my eyes cast upwards again to the ten remaining suspended balloons, waiting (in vain, as it turned out) for them to drop a second time.
The short and sweet A Day In The Life encore brought me back to the first time I’d heard Phish play it in Lake Placid so many years before, a reminisce that further convinced me that the band was feeling comfortable enough after just one show back to keep things slow, relaxed, and normal and not feel like they had to overextend themselves to impress us.
Phish was definitely back. This weren’t no one-off Vegas revue, that much was now 100% certain.
My post-show scene was significantly more jumping than it had been on night one. In the process I spent several hours losing and finding and losing people until m’lady and I and Kyla and Jay miraculously found each other at a Nitrous Inn. Cops were turning over mattresses and opening tanks all around as the four of us reunited in some random room and watched the US beat Canada at some World Baseball Classic tournament. I found myself mature enough to resist any and all hissing snakey snacks and spent my money instead on a very conveniently-timed drive-by pizza. While we whiled away the time the clocks sprang ahead and we were still back at our hotel and in bed not long after 4am.
As I rested my eyes for the first time of the day I couldn’t help but to smile. Id been absolutely loving the weekend so far. The band, the lot, the scene…the everything had been above all expectations. And it was just going to stay that way.
For years.
Todd Man Out 