Rule number one of writing is to know your audience. Well, no, I guess rule number one of writing is to have a point and hope that one hand kind of washes the other (the point leads to the audience... you probably knew what I meant; you're smart people.
Anyway, time for the long awaited Independence Day Phish Concert post. Phish shows are kind of like an entire world in and of itself and it was a real pleasure to take in the experience with Deanna, Sean Taylor, Ben, and Jeremy, who was kind enough to leave his free orchestra level seats to take in the last bit of the concert with us.
I'm nowhere near as qualified to breakdown the music of Phish as I am Dave Matthews Band, but there are certainly some notes I'd love to make. The band was beyond tight. I mean, it's almost like they define what it is to be on the same page musically. To have such a jam/free sound still come off so clean every single time is almost frightening. They crammed 33 tracks into the night and, for my money, didn't miss a beat on one of them.
What I really love about Phish shows is obviously the music, but I can honestly say that something bigger than the tunes goes on at their shows. Don't worry, I'm not talking about some hippie mysticism of a higher power or anything, but simply put, I've never seen a more interactive show with more people uniformly, yet uniquely, invested in what occurred on stage. You can imagine, I'm sure, at a show like that you're going to run into some characters in varying states of sobriety, but in the middle of all this seemingly randomness, there's a literal pulse to the people and vibe there that really makes everybody everything.
I know I've taken that last paragraph could have easily been taken from the greatest passages of Thomas Wolfe, but electric kool-aid aside, I've never witnessed such a positive version of a mob mentality in my life. The closest comparison being Boston Garden during the Lakers/Celtics playoff game when Leon Powe received an ovation I'll never forget.
At this show you have a ocean of tie-dye, Americana, and homemade Phish shirts (including an incredible Harry Hood one made by Deanna), a man holding an American flag with a peace sign embroidered on it, waving it the majority of the show. I'm not even sure he had a seat. You have Sean Taylor and I finally in matching neon green headbands. You have fans of all shapes, colors, and sizes singing along and (to quote Wolfe more directly) "grooving on their thing" chanting at the right parts and the glow sticks, balloons, and beach balls being flung into the air at musical climaxes. I equate the experience to people who go see "Rocky Horror" and chant and shout certain things during the movie or production. It's kind of a way for experienced phans to make the show their own. It's a cult and underground following in its truest form, depending on how deep you are in the pudding. (Should be the last reference, minus a potential nod to day-glo) And all the while, the band just sustains this experience with tunes and lights almost casually, as if they are just a vessel for this ultimate display of humanity.
Proof of this nearly inexplicable synergy came near the end of the show; actually, during the final number before the encore (Slave To The Traffic Light, for anyone curious) when the cloudy (though truly beautiful) night finally gave way and displayed an awe-inspiring yellow moon casting its glow on the venue. When this occurred, the whole crowd literally erupted with joy. The moment seemed so scripted that I actually leaned over to Deanna and asked if I missed something on stage while I was distracted by the moon. When she confirmed that everyone was riffing on the moon, I got some pretty intense chills.
Another cool moment was when strictly by coincidence, the only time I saw fireworks out on the water during the whole show was during a barber shop quartet rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner". I mean, you can't script that kind of stuff.
Don't get me wrong, if had to listen for one band for the rest of my life, it's still Dave. They're my favorite and have molded me into who I am as much as a facet of pop culture can. And, not that anyone asked, but if I had to listen to someone's tunes for 24 hours with no breaks, it'd be Paul Simon, but for my money, for all the GREAT acts out there, if I had to pick one band to see live for the rest of my life, I'd see Phish. I'm honored and humbled to have shared the experience with my friends.
The lone downside of the experience is, once again, I was left hanging in my quest for "Punch You In The Eye" (my favorite song of theirs), but other than that the band was top notch. The set was great and I encourage you to look it up. For me to have three highlights is really the understatement of the year, but...
1. "Avenu Malkanu" sandwiched between renditions of "The Man Who Stepped Into Yesterday" was easily one of the most beautiful things I've heard live. I was kind of overwhelmed and it was a really prophound (see what I did there?) moment that was the apex of the night three songs in. Incredible.
2. My first witnessing of a "tucking" during the first cover of "Purple Rain" since '99. We partied like it (Prince nod), and a vacuum solo to boot. For once Youtube is mightier than the metaphorical pen. Dig for yourself.
3. "Harry Hood" took the second set to a whole new space.
But again, the whole show delivered and had me, and consequently everyone, engaged from Tweezer to Tweezer.
Until next time, this is Tom on behalf of Friar Tuck.
Song of the Day: Jailhouse-Sublime (Summer is here and so is summer camp)
Jazz Song of the Day: The Chief-Billy Harper
Showing posts with label Phish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Phish. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Monday, June 20, 2011
There's A Cost When You Radiate Sunshine
I've been busy in the best ways possible. I'm really not sure how to properly express so much in hopefully not too long-winded blog-post, but I sure will try.
First things first, the Dallas Mavericks became the NBA champions a couple of weeks ago. It was a sight for sore eyes for Mavs fans all over the world following the unexpected collapse in 2006 that made Dwayne Wade a household name for all the right reasons and Dirk for all the wrong ones. Dirk and the Mavs are all validated at this point, as well as their fans to a certain extent. I could not be happier for a more deserving bunch organization. My initial reaction to the win was a bit more understated than even I would have expected, but I was in a semi-emotional stupor from about the final two minutes onward. I'm not going to sully the Mavs' accomplishment by talking about the Heat, but I will say that the better team won, the Heat were not the most classy bunch throughout, and it was weird to suddenly be part of such a majority group of "Mavs fans" who were simply rooting against the Heat. I guess we all got what we wanted, but I was proud to root for the Mavs rather than against the Heat.
I watched the game in Baltimore with the almighty patriarch of Birdland himself, Nick Pappas. We had an awesome time, and the royal family is always very generous and welcoming to me. To have such an influential family still be so down to earth is refreshing and I can't thank them enough. It was a lesiurly Sunday spent watching the Lord play softball in the morning, shooting pool in the afternoon (shot terribly for the first time in a while), and shooting hoops with He and his brother Dom, who is apparently allergic to shirts. One might say that I proved to "still have it" on the court and made up for my poor showiing on the felt. We were hit by a sort of flash monsoon. Fortunately, the only casualty was Nick's phone which he had accidentally left outside. Except for that minor hiccup in levity, the trip was all positive and I hope to do it again soon.
I was in Maryland in the first place to see Phish perform in Columbia with some friends from LI. It was an incredible time, as anticipated, and the consistancy of this group to muster epic performances time and time again is absurd. For those who care, Run Like An Antelope was definitely the high point, but the whole show was really top notch.
Prior to the show, we made an impromptu excursion to the fabled rhombus of Phish-lore. The rhombus is a former chill spot of Trey's where apparently a few songs were written and is an active portal to Gamehenge. If I'm not mistaken, "Divided Sky" is about this place. It was a pretty spiritual quest. My man Ben Kraus put a lot of research into the visit and he was really happy to find it, which was cool to see from my perspective. With that said, I got a little chuckle at him being pretty nervous to come down from a height that wasn't very intimidating. Also, when we entered the place where the rhombus was (which I don't think I can mention due to a code of honor) we stopped at an information booth to get directions to the specific rhombus area (lxwxh...kidding). A very exubarent Ben said, "Don't worry, I'll bet they get this question all the time." Emily imidiately deflated him as only a sibling can by saying, "No, Ben, I bet they don't." The delivery of such a chilling line had the whole car in stitches and still makes me laugh when I think about it. Emily was right, by the way.
Now, I'm not nearly as upset by this as I'll probably sound, but it is an observation of mine that I do feel the need to mention. One the special things about most any concert, especially a Phish one, is kind of the underground marketplace that forms. Cats looking to buy and sell tickets shirts and drugs. To have interactions and a trade system so informally and, honestly, pretty cool. Now, I don't do drugs other than some occasional drinking in any context, but I have good friends who do. If I had my way I'd legalize pot and whatnot. Drug use is all about managing yourself, which, sadly, some can't do effectively and it ruins it for others. I only bring this up to underline the fact that this is not a rant on how drugs are silly or bad, just not for me.
My frustration lies in a few conversations I overheard from those around me. Phish is in the middle of rocking the house and people are talking about the quality of their buzz, when to take more, etc. We're not talking a quick, "How are you feeling?" we're talking full blown conversations. Like I said, I have little issue with drugs as long as you're not driving or doing something dumb, but the fact that some people were valuing their buzz over the great tunes being created was kind of annoying; not pinfuriating or anything, but it didn't entirely sit well with me. Drugs are fine, but as soon as they become a priority over what's right in front of you, I consider that a very important line to be crossed.
I flew from Baltimore that Monday, it was quicker and cheaper than a train. I didn't have bags to check, so it was one of the smoothest airport experiences of my life. While I was on line waiting to board a young couple was in front of me. The gentleman had earphones on that were apparently a little loud because he was unintentionally shouting to his wife, "Is this the right section!" She said, "Yes." He appeared to be unaware of her response due to his out of control earphones and said, "Yeah, but is this the right section?" Her response made my week. She said, "shh, yes." Her tone was such to say, "shut the fuck up you idiot, I just said we're in the right place," however, it was still a tone of unquestionable affection. It was an infectiously charming moment that I instantly fell in love with. The three of us shared a hearty laugh over the situation, as I couldn't mask my staring, and indeed grinning, at that point.
It was a great trip with great people. Look for a post within the next couple of days about my trip to Astoria. I don't want this post to be longer than it already is.
Song of the Day: Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes- Paul Simon
Jazz Song of the Day: First Time Long Time- Medeski Matin and Wood.
First things first, the Dallas Mavericks became the NBA champions a couple of weeks ago. It was a sight for sore eyes for Mavs fans all over the world following the unexpected collapse in 2006 that made Dwayne Wade a household name for all the right reasons and Dirk for all the wrong ones. Dirk and the Mavs are all validated at this point, as well as their fans to a certain extent. I could not be happier for a more deserving bunch organization. My initial reaction to the win was a bit more understated than even I would have expected, but I was in a semi-emotional stupor from about the final two minutes onward. I'm not going to sully the Mavs' accomplishment by talking about the Heat, but I will say that the better team won, the Heat were not the most classy bunch throughout, and it was weird to suddenly be part of such a majority group of "Mavs fans" who were simply rooting against the Heat. I guess we all got what we wanted, but I was proud to root for the Mavs rather than against the Heat.
I watched the game in Baltimore with the almighty patriarch of Birdland himself, Nick Pappas. We had an awesome time, and the royal family is always very generous and welcoming to me. To have such an influential family still be so down to earth is refreshing and I can't thank them enough. It was a lesiurly Sunday spent watching the Lord play softball in the morning, shooting pool in the afternoon (shot terribly for the first time in a while), and shooting hoops with He and his brother Dom, who is apparently allergic to shirts. One might say that I proved to "still have it" on the court and made up for my poor showiing on the felt. We were hit by a sort of flash monsoon. Fortunately, the only casualty was Nick's phone which he had accidentally left outside. Except for that minor hiccup in levity, the trip was all positive and I hope to do it again soon.
I was in Maryland in the first place to see Phish perform in Columbia with some friends from LI. It was an incredible time, as anticipated, and the consistancy of this group to muster epic performances time and time again is absurd. For those who care, Run Like An Antelope was definitely the high point, but the whole show was really top notch.
Prior to the show, we made an impromptu excursion to the fabled rhombus of Phish-lore. The rhombus is a former chill spot of Trey's where apparently a few songs were written and is an active portal to Gamehenge. If I'm not mistaken, "Divided Sky" is about this place. It was a pretty spiritual quest. My man Ben Kraus put a lot of research into the visit and he was really happy to find it, which was cool to see from my perspective. With that said, I got a little chuckle at him being pretty nervous to come down from a height that wasn't very intimidating. Also, when we entered the place where the rhombus was (which I don't think I can mention due to a code of honor) we stopped at an information booth to get directions to the specific rhombus area (lxwxh...kidding). A very exubarent Ben said, "Don't worry, I'll bet they get this question all the time." Emily imidiately deflated him as only a sibling can by saying, "No, Ben, I bet they don't." The delivery of such a chilling line had the whole car in stitches and still makes me laugh when I think about it. Emily was right, by the way.
Now, I'm not nearly as upset by this as I'll probably sound, but it is an observation of mine that I do feel the need to mention. One the special things about most any concert, especially a Phish one, is kind of the underground marketplace that forms. Cats looking to buy and sell tickets shirts and drugs. To have interactions and a trade system so informally and, honestly, pretty cool. Now, I don't do drugs other than some occasional drinking in any context, but I have good friends who do. If I had my way I'd legalize pot and whatnot. Drug use is all about managing yourself, which, sadly, some can't do effectively and it ruins it for others. I only bring this up to underline the fact that this is not a rant on how drugs are silly or bad, just not for me.
My frustration lies in a few conversations I overheard from those around me. Phish is in the middle of rocking the house and people are talking about the quality of their buzz, when to take more, etc. We're not talking a quick, "How are you feeling?" we're talking full blown conversations. Like I said, I have little issue with drugs as long as you're not driving or doing something dumb, but the fact that some people were valuing their buzz over the great tunes being created was kind of annoying; not pinfuriating or anything, but it didn't entirely sit well with me. Drugs are fine, but as soon as they become a priority over what's right in front of you, I consider that a very important line to be crossed.
I flew from Baltimore that Monday, it was quicker and cheaper than a train. I didn't have bags to check, so it was one of the smoothest airport experiences of my life. While I was on line waiting to board a young couple was in front of me. The gentleman had earphones on that were apparently a little loud because he was unintentionally shouting to his wife, "Is this the right section!" She said, "Yes." He appeared to be unaware of her response due to his out of control earphones and said, "Yeah, but is this the right section?" Her response made my week. She said, "shh, yes." Her tone was such to say, "shut the fuck up you idiot, I just said we're in the right place," however, it was still a tone of unquestionable affection. It was an infectiously charming moment that I instantly fell in love with. The three of us shared a hearty laugh over the situation, as I couldn't mask my staring, and indeed grinning, at that point.
It was a great trip with great people. Look for a post within the next couple of days about my trip to Astoria. I don't want this post to be longer than it already is.
Song of the Day: Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes- Paul Simon
Jazz Song of the Day: First Time Long Time- Medeski Matin and Wood.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Mama, There Goes That Man
I will be the first one to tell you that this particular post doesn't have much in the way of substance. I just have a couple quick notes and the sharing of one of the funniest things I'd ever heard on television. You've been warned.
I'm going to see Bon Iver with my sister in the city in August. In the more immediate future, I'm going to Maryland to see Phish and spending the following day with Nick Pappas himself in what I can only assume to be the greatest city of all time, Baltimore. I'm super thrilled about the trip. Also, Sufjan Stevens is playing in Brooklyn in August and the ticket prices are not quite as high as I would expect for an artist of his caliber. If a few friends are interested, I'd love to catch his show as well and consider my graduation money well spent. Dave's year off from touring is really bearing fruits in the sense that it frees me up to see some other artists. Regarding the 4 Dave shows, I would drop all I was doing to go see them in Atlantic City, but arrangements will be too expensive. The NY show is a bit more feasible, but still really expensive and the set pales in comparison to the NJ ditty. At the risk of losing my lifelong DMB fan membership, I don't think a year off is anything worth crying about. In more local news, Hot Tuna will be playing a show about 30 minutes away from my house this summer and the tickets are 20-30 bucks. A small price to pay to see Jefferson Airplane alums. This promises to be a musical summer indeed.
I had promised not to make this blog about basketball, mostly to give myself some solace from it, but I can't help it at this point; I'll be brief.
My Mavericks continue to silence all critics and appear to be Finals bound after one of the most impressive comeback victories I've ever seen last night. The team appears to be running on all cylinders and Dirk is a man on a mission. I'm enjoying just being a fan for once. I don't mean to say that I'm professional or anything, and I don't mean to sound cocky, but usually when I watch an NBA game, while it's a good time, I always approach it relatively impartially and with an analytical mind. For the first time since about middle school I feel like just a fan sitting on the couch with some buds and some snacks, having a good time and cheering right along with the fans. This playoff run has been liberating for the Dallas franchise and it also reminds me that basketball is just a game. A great game, but a game. This run has reminded me why I fell in love with the game in the first place. The experience has been invaluable.
The subject of last night's game brings me to one of the funniest things I've heard in a while. Former NBA-great, Mark Jackson does commentary for the ESPN games and usually has no shortage of quotable lines that are either pretty laughable, or just plain dumb. As a matter of fact, I say this: Mark Jackson's best/worst quotes (depending on how you look at them) are better than Charles Barkley's. Barkley is more consistently quotable, but I'd take Jackson's top ten over Barkley's any day.
Anyway, last night Dirk was in the zone. At one point Dirk hit a near impossible shot over Thabo Sefloshia (too lazy to check the spelling, close enough), one of the premier defenders in the league. Mark Jackson, struck by whatever creative muse he ascribes to, saw fit to imitate Dirk speaking to Thabo after the play. He said the following:
(As Dirk): "Guess where I was last night while you were eating dinner. I was in the gym getting work done."
While the limitations of text prevent me from capturing Mark Jackson's tone of strained bad-assery, this quote tickled me to no end for the following reasons:
1. It makes Thabo seem like an apathetic monster for wanting to eat a meal.
2. It's not like Dirk Nowitzki skipped dinner yesterday.
3. Dirk naps every game day.
Can't a guy eat a meal without being ridiculed on national television? I admit that in type the retelling isn't entirely a knee slapper, but the ridiculousness of the statement coupled with the positive vibes of such a huge win shook me to the core. I thought it was absurdly funny. We can only hope that Thabo stops eating entirely so that he can be better prepared to take on the Mavs on Wednesday.
Mark Jackson, I tip my hat to you.
Song of the Day: "I Was Born In Puerto Rico"- Paul Simon
Jazz Song of the Day: "I Love You"- Freddie Hubbard
I'm going to see Bon Iver with my sister in the city in August. In the more immediate future, I'm going to Maryland to see Phish and spending the following day with Nick Pappas himself in what I can only assume to be the greatest city of all time, Baltimore. I'm super thrilled about the trip. Also, Sufjan Stevens is playing in Brooklyn in August and the ticket prices are not quite as high as I would expect for an artist of his caliber. If a few friends are interested, I'd love to catch his show as well and consider my graduation money well spent. Dave's year off from touring is really bearing fruits in the sense that it frees me up to see some other artists. Regarding the 4 Dave shows, I would drop all I was doing to go see them in Atlantic City, but arrangements will be too expensive. The NY show is a bit more feasible, but still really expensive and the set pales in comparison to the NJ ditty. At the risk of losing my lifelong DMB fan membership, I don't think a year off is anything worth crying about. In more local news, Hot Tuna will be playing a show about 30 minutes away from my house this summer and the tickets are 20-30 bucks. A small price to pay to see Jefferson Airplane alums. This promises to be a musical summer indeed.
I had promised not to make this blog about basketball, mostly to give myself some solace from it, but I can't help it at this point; I'll be brief.
My Mavericks continue to silence all critics and appear to be Finals bound after one of the most impressive comeback victories I've ever seen last night. The team appears to be running on all cylinders and Dirk is a man on a mission. I'm enjoying just being a fan for once. I don't mean to say that I'm professional or anything, and I don't mean to sound cocky, but usually when I watch an NBA game, while it's a good time, I always approach it relatively impartially and with an analytical mind. For the first time since about middle school I feel like just a fan sitting on the couch with some buds and some snacks, having a good time and cheering right along with the fans. This playoff run has been liberating for the Dallas franchise and it also reminds me that basketball is just a game. A great game, but a game. This run has reminded me why I fell in love with the game in the first place. The experience has been invaluable.
The subject of last night's game brings me to one of the funniest things I've heard in a while. Former NBA-great, Mark Jackson does commentary for the ESPN games and usually has no shortage of quotable lines that are either pretty laughable, or just plain dumb. As a matter of fact, I say this: Mark Jackson's best/worst quotes (depending on how you look at them) are better than Charles Barkley's. Barkley is more consistently quotable, but I'd take Jackson's top ten over Barkley's any day.
Anyway, last night Dirk was in the zone. At one point Dirk hit a near impossible shot over Thabo Sefloshia (too lazy to check the spelling, close enough), one of the premier defenders in the league. Mark Jackson, struck by whatever creative muse he ascribes to, saw fit to imitate Dirk speaking to Thabo after the play. He said the following:
(As Dirk): "Guess where I was last night while you were eating dinner. I was in the gym getting work done."
While the limitations of text prevent me from capturing Mark Jackson's tone of strained bad-assery, this quote tickled me to no end for the following reasons:
1. It makes Thabo seem like an apathetic monster for wanting to eat a meal.
2. It's not like Dirk Nowitzki skipped dinner yesterday.
3. Dirk naps every game day.
Can't a guy eat a meal without being ridiculed on national television? I admit that in type the retelling isn't entirely a knee slapper, but the ridiculousness of the statement coupled with the positive vibes of such a huge win shook me to the core. I thought it was absurdly funny. We can only hope that Thabo stops eating entirely so that he can be better prepared to take on the Mavs on Wednesday.
Mark Jackson, I tip my hat to you.
Song of the Day: "I Was Born In Puerto Rico"- Paul Simon
Jazz Song of the Day: "I Love You"- Freddie Hubbard
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