Posted by [One fateful morning I found myself scouring the darkest corners of my more obscure and unlikely file folders of randomness when I stumbled Indiana Jones-style upon a dusty, cobweb-ridden pile of pixels that turned out to be raw notes and memories from my trip to Hampton, Virginia to witness the re-emergence of Phish, who were successfully coming out of retirement for what is thus far the last time. The three shows marked the beginning of a long and winding road that m’lady and I have been (mostly) sharing ever since so you would think that I would have remembered them better, but contrasting my long-since written ticket stories against these newfound relics suggests that I didn’t. And so, however indulgent, my instinct is to re-document these freshly unearthed ancient memories into this barely-edited creative homage to the original writeup from the final night of Phish’s comeback run. And so:]
Just as we had done on night two, m’lady and I (et al) headed down to the show rather early for the final night of Phish’s comeback run in Hampton, Virginia on March 8th, 2009. And once again the weather was dreamily perfect, with short sleeves and summer vibes seeping through the sunshine for the third straight day.
Our crew intended to eat at a Hooters along the way for what would have my first and only time, but when a twenty-one-year-old kid who is squeaking through life on nothing more than some very vague and fleeting aesthetic properties blank-face asks me how much money I am willing to give her if I want to be seated in a medium-quality chain restaurant*, well I go somewhere where the staff knows how to treat a customer. Plus a McDouble only costs $1.
It took until this final night for us to find the actual official parking lot, and when we did find it we found it to be quite happening after all. Not only was Shakedown somewhat vast and rather busy, it had some notable variety going on as well. And while it’s nice to see popup lot merchants branching out, but do we really need lot sushi? In the end our pre-show stroll was kept somewhat short. Shortly after I hugged a stranger out of some free beers we left the lot to join some of m’lady’s friends in line to get in.
Once the doors opened we got inside in short order. All three nights had been General Admission and this time we opted for a view from higher up the relatively short concert bowl. I was fully anticipating another giant balloon drop and noticed an extra extra-large balloon suspended from the ceiling – bringing the total of massive balloons dangling from the roof to twenty-two – also with its own dedicated lighting rig.
When the lights dimmed for our third time ’round and the band launched into the set-opening Sanity that extra balloon remained illuminated. As the band played under muted lighting the crowd’s focus turned to the dangling orb, and as the opening song came to a close the balloon was released onto the crowd below.
Which was so very cool.
As we all frolicked in the joy of the grand balloon drop Trey hit his open E string four times (badump…babump) kicking off a Wilson singalong that brought back the celebratory feeling of the first night. Following up with Foam, Bathtub Gin, the debut of Undermind, AC/DC Bag, and My Friend, My Friend convinced even the most doubting of Thomases that the game was definitely back on. We were witnesses to the end of the beginning and it felt like a beginning that needn’t require a foreseeable end. It sounded like we’d all seen the last of last-show rumours and announcements, and the crowd was psyched.
I got the Maze I’d been waiting all weekend for (which featured a blistering circa 1997 guitar peak) followed by Mike singing George Jones’ She Thinks I Still Care for the first and what I assume will be the last time played. After another monstrously long first set they closed out on an extremely high note with Page front and centre tearing through Frankenstein on keytar.
The second set saw the band stretching out a bit more, and somehow Chris Kuroda managed to kick my mind for two nights straight and still have some amazing tricks up his sleeve for the last show. He even had me looking forward to the inevitable Also Sprach Zarathustra, song I had seen with such pre-hiatus frequency that I always knew it was coming and always kinda dreaded it. With this night’s version I began to turn around and see the song for what it is: a pulsing canvas handed over to CK5’s creative vision. It has since become one of my favourites.
The set-ending Slave the the Traffic Light seemed a tribute to the collective drive home that 10,000 weary musical warriors would soon be facing, a sentiment that continued when they opened the encore with Contact (following a rousing Happy Birthday that was dedicated to Fishman’s father).
I swear, sometimes I feel like I am the only Contact lover. It was the first Phish tune I heard (well, that and Golgi Apparatus, both in the same sitting), and it’s one of their jazzier ones, plus it’s a grand musical joke – if not a downright novelty song – complete with a punchline and everything. I was actually hoping they would end the show then and there, but I’d forgotten about Tweezer Reprise (and hadn’t even thought about Bug, obviously), and I had also forgotten how badly I wanted them to drop those giant balloons onto the crowd again.
Both happened. This time they dropped the outer ring of balloons too, and oh, my joy when all twenty-one of the orbs were released. And while I was pleased that the prop dudes seemed to have made the effort to get stronger balloons this time so they wouldn’t pop upon hitting the crowd, I was extremely disappointed to see people on the floor purposely popping them, I suspect because they were hindering the view of the band. I mean c’mon people, Phish & Co. went to a lot of effort and no little expense to do something unique, fun, and useless – in other words “art” – and that is something that should be noticed, respected and partaken in. Instead they took something that was supercool and highly anticipated and unilaterally rendered it moot. It’s not like the balloon poppers ruined my evening or anything, I’m just sayin’, is all.
Serves those spoilsports right that when the bursting balloons showered the people beneath them with a blast of latex dust.
The post-show lot scene was muted as the crowd was slowly and happily dispersing. All could rest easy knowing that their favourite band had worked hard to come back in style, and for a reasonable price too, I might add. For a band of Phish’s stature to be charging $49.50 for these shows was admirable. Nobody would have blinked at $69 a ticket, and that right there would have netted the enterprise an extra $600,000 over the weekend. But either way, Phish earned their money. There was definitely no shortage of rehearsal and energy put into their return. To say that the fans noticed would be an understatement, and our collective appreciation for the effort was vast.
In a word: it was a huge relief to know that things were right again.
Overall I’d have to call first night/second set as the champion of the weekend, with this evening’s first set as second place. Overall the weekend was a great show sandwiched between two unbelievable shows, though I would accept many arguments to the contrary. Bottom line is Phish is guaranteed to get return business from anyone who walked through the doors over the last three nights, that much is sure. They worked hard to meet expectations, and surpassed them.
But heck, so did we. And just because Phish could put their fins up and relax didn’t mean that m’lady and Jay and Kyla and I could, for we had to boot it all the way to NYC in the morning for our first-ever excursion to the Beacon Theatre.
*In a blatant fit of inaccuracy, my memories of this encounter mistakenly appear in the ticket story from March 7th, 2009. My apologies for any hurt I may have inadvertently caused.
Todd Man Out 