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■ BEST BET
Local bluegrass pickers Athens Grass’ regularly scheduled
Monday night gig Is extra special tonight, with the occasion be
ing their official cassette release party. Their long-awaited de-
buttape, ‘Homegrown, 1 ’ Is now available at local record stores.
The Red and Black • Monday, April 25, 1994 • 5
A&E
Phish-frenzy; Fanatic fried fans fall hook, line and sinker
By JEFF YORK
Staff Writer
Phish is the best band on the road to
day. Having followed their exploits
through the last five years, I was a little
worried when they started making videos
and recording songs that I could imagine
the general public liking. Could they
maintain the intimacy and extraordinary
musicianship that made me drive to
Massachusetts through ten-foot drifts of
snow for their annual New Years show?
Could they stay the same?
No, they couldn’t. They got better.
Friday night’s show at the Township
Auditorium in Columbia, S.C., was, to
put it simply, mind blowing. Phish’s
stage show has gone from some trampo
lines and a strobe light to gargantuan
banks of lights that follow every nuance
of the music.
Within the first two minutes of
“Llama,” you could tell Phish meant busi
ness tonight. Pulsating rhythms over-
layed with the outerstellar moan of Page
McConnell’s organ and Trey Anastasio’s
machine-gun guitar riffs transported the
audience to a higher level. Drummer Jon
“Greasy Fizeek” Fishman peppered the
song with snare grenades, popping the
beat out like a drill press.
After a couple of bluegrass standards,
Anastasio led the band into one of their
newer and more moving songs. The bril
liant “Silent in the Morning” was a
peaceful meditation which climaxed with
a dazzling shower of notes.
“Sample in a Jar,” from the new album
“Hoist,” is a power ballad and a half;
we're bound to hear this one blasting
over classic rock radio. In concert, Phish
breathes life into the song until it stands
on it’s own as a monument to their song
writing skills.
They ended the set with a keening
“Divided Sky” and a “David Bowie” that
truly defied my musical understanding.
The perfect Phish joke, it’s an incredibly
complicated song with lyrics that repeat
“David Bowie” until they finally switch to
singing, “UB40.” After the singing was
done, the tune began to metamorphisize
quickly into a spiraling blowout, with
bassist Mike Gordon propelling the bond
into uncharted realms of improvisation.
Phish doesn’t improvise in a slow, melod
ic jazz style. They improvise like a man
careening down a twisting mountain
road with no brakes, do or die.
I thought the show was over after the
first set. It didn’t seem like they needed
to do anything more. But luckily, Phish
is not content to rest on it’s laurels. The
second set was another miniature mas
terpiece. Highlights included Fishman’s
moving rendition of “I Want to be Like
You,” the orangatan’s song from “The
Jungle Book,” complete with vacuum
cleaner solo. (How ‘bout a banana?)
Fine renditions of new tunes like
“Julius” and “Life Boy” perfectly comple
mented old favorites like “Runaway Jim”
and “The Squirming Coil.”
The encore featured McConnell and
his dad dueting on “Ragtime,” after
which the elder McConnell did some soft
shoe for the approving fans. We left
sweaty, happy and psyched for the next
night’s show.
Saturday night in Atlanta, in what
Fishman called “a dream come true,”
Phish finally made it to The Fabulous
Fox Theatre. Over the last three years,
they’ve played everywhere from the
Variety Playhouse to the Masquerade in
a search for the perfect Atlanta venue.
They found it in the Fox.
The flashing sign blared “PHISH: Sold
Out,” as Freaknikers and Phishheads
mingled in a bizarre parade out front.
The pseudo-Arabian architecture of the
Fox was the perfect setting for Phish’s
musical mastery.
As they kicked off with the hard
groove of “Funky Bitch,” you could see
the happiness in the band members
faces. Deep blues seeped from the stage
until the audience was saturated in a
happy sweat.
Launching into “Rift,” they played
faster and harder. You will not see a
band with a tighter relationship with
their audience; sometimes it was like we
were there to amuse them.
A cover of Frank Zappa’s “Peaches in
Regalia,” was damn near perfect. I have
serious doubts about the ability of any
band to cover Zappa, but Phish is one of
the few that can pull it off.
Merle Saunders came on to lead the
band through a rollicking “Red Dress."
Saunders seemed a little lost at first, but
with some coaxing from Anastasio, he fell
right in.
Yet another strong new song, “Down
With Disease,” swelled and erupted into
a volcanic chorus that led into the finest
rendition of “Stash” I have ever heard.
Not happy with simply playing their guts
out, the band repeatedly broke the song
down, only to regain the rhythm at the
last possible second. They seem to be us
ing this bluegrass trick with their older
songs a lot, assuring freshness at every
concert.
The Caribbean funk of “You ’Enjoy
Myself,” featured none other than the
“retired,” Col. Bruce Hampton on piano.
Eventually he was surrounded by all the
band members, as they crowded around
McConnell’s keyboards tapping and
clanging out disjointed notes that some
how became music.
An acoustic song, something about the
north Georgia hills, with Fishman on
washboard and McConnell on some kind
of flute-like-keyboard thing followed.
Incredibly, silence filled the 6,000 seat
Fox, as the audience strained for every
note since the band without any amplifi
cation. One excitable young lady contin
uously screamed “I love you Trey,” until
somebody explained to her that it wasn’t
a Dead show.
Topping it all off was an acappella
version of “Free Bird.” It was a pretty
nice display of Southern Pride for a
bunch of Yankee college boys from
Vermont.
And that was it. All I can say is when
it comes to live rock mixed with jazz,
bluegrass and funk, Phish is the best
band in the land.
It was nice to be reassured that there
are some things in life you can count on.
The sun will rise, gravity works and
Phish plays great concerts. I don’t know
how, but they really just keep getting
better.
Winfield Chase
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