was poking around the phish.net archive and found this. thank gawd I’m not this long winded anymore. hmmmm, maybe I am…
Date: Fri, 12 Jun 1998 19:45:52 GMT
From: Fonefono
Subject: Opinion on 4/3/98 … and Mickey Mantle
[it’s nice to be back]
I’ve been wondering about emotions, concentration levels, jamming and the
effect of random occurrences upon any of these at Phish concerts. More
specifically, I’ve been thinking about these relationships as they pertain to
the second set of 4/3/98 since I just heard it on tape for the first time today
since being in the Coliseum that night.
As a live performance, I found that set to be utterly amazing, but not
necessarily for the general “quality” of Phish music that was produced.
Actually, from this aspect, I found the music kind of average for them, which,
and I say this only for those of us who will take exception to the use of the
term “average” in describing Phish, is still better than any band playing today
(boy what I won’t go through to avoid a flame). What I found amazing about the
show was a demonstration of the sensitivity and response of the band to life,
and how those in attendance witnessed a wonderous example of this.
Without a doubt my premise is based on nothing factual. It’s purely the
conjecture of another fun loving Phish fan who’s willing to share his illusions
with any of you like minded nutcases with very little pertinent activity going
on in their lives at the moment. So I have to tell you that even without the
influence of chemical enhancements, and while performing such a mundane and
tedious task as driving to work this morning, formulating the schedule of
events that would make up my day, rational functioning dissolved in a flash
once I began to listen again to the music of 4/3. Conscious driving control
slipped to the semiconscious, as my heart and mind were lured back to that
night and to the experience I found so genuinely unique. Stay the course with
me a bit, and allow me to try, anyway, to sell this dream to you.
Roses Are Free is a nice song, and if I could say more than that about it, I
would. The jam that followed it that night seemed to me, both then and now, to
be somewhat directionless. I remember Trey settling into a phunky rhythm role
which implied an attempt to pass the driving theme of the jam over to Page.
Actually this appeared to happen a couple of times during this part of the
show, but nothing significantly unique developed. Maybe nothing unique was
supposed to develop. Maybe the intent was to just sort of noodle around in a
deep phunky groove, and repeat the same phrasing pretty much forever. I don’t
know enough about phunky structures to say what was happening. I do know my
sweetie fell asleep for a couple of minutes from the mesmerizing effect it had,
and from the overpowering heat of the third tier that night in the Coliseum.
Nothing struck me as important during this jam except what I discover at times
to be a function of jamming in general, and that is, that during a jam, one
member may stray into a musical phrase that reminds them of another song. I
mentioned before that the Mike’s Song jam of 12/2/97 led both Trey and Mike
serendipitously to a key note phrase from Simple, which they moved into several
bars later. On this particular night, toward the end of the jam following
Roses, one hears partial Piper phrasing. It almost sounds, from the point that
Trey picks up on the phrase, that the band begins to position itself to start
Piper more formally. I choose to believe, because I’m not a musician in any
way shape or form, that these events are accidents of the jam, and cannot be
planned beforehand. If the concentrative process behaves as it does in other
areas of cognitive activity, it’s difficult to imagine one so deeply immersed
in pushing the mental functions of listening, absorbing and responding to the
utmost limits, being capable of intentionally dropping a phrase unless it
somehow “fit” into the specific moment. There are times when Trey will have an
idea to start another song and stop where they’re at to move to it, but that’s
not what happened here or in the Mike’s.
Piper followed the jam, as most naturally it should have. That night I was
swept away by Piper, even though since then, I have heard versions that not
only sweep me away, but dump my sorry ass out with the trash. Nonetheless I
stood in awe of this relatively simple song, as it pumped me up for an energy
level I was happy to see happen. Instead, the level abruptly returned to those
of the previous jam, as it seemed that the boys lacked stamina or interest at
this point in the show. When they began Loving Cup, the house roared a bit
louder at the hope of having the band rock out a bit more. Loving Cup was
indeed substantial, but it wasn’t until the end of this song, that the whole
point of this post really begins to congeal.
You’re playing nine innings and you started out all hell bent on a good game.
Your first time at bat, energy fresh, you fight the pitcher well and are
satisfied with a single. Fourth inning you lead off, a little more tired of a
game you’re up five runs in. So you settle back on your heels and go for the
fences. You give it a good shot as you drive the centerfielder back, almost to
the track. A mild rush when the ball leaves your bat, but you know almost as
quickly, it ain’t goin nowhere. Too many brews and the groping session with
Marie the night before has left you, shall we say, satisfied? Your thoughts
tend to slip back there. It’s your last at bat in the eigth, and your team is
still ahead comfortably, and you don’t quite know what you’re going to do as
you step up to it once again. The reliever is kicking back real hard, trying
to prove himself as a starter, and as you play the better-than-average game
that you usually do, you’re comfortable to swing at a really bad pitch outside.
Giving the pitcher a smirk because you know you’re better than that, you show
him you just don’t care about his second string antics as he winds the next one
up and brings it in low. You fall back again upon your heels and dream of
sailing one over the fence when you suddenly realize a high hard one is heading
for your face at 80 mph sending every gland into overdrive in a fraction of a
instant. You drop from fear, avoiding being hit, and as you let you anger fall
away, what’s left is the strength, energy and attitude that should be yours
every minute of every game. You return to the plate, composed, but awake,
tuned to the pointedness of mind which is required by what you choose to do.
Knees flexed, back, shoulders and arms in perfect relaxation, the networked
flow of concentrative energy sparkles through your body. Awake as if
dreamlike, the pitch floats into reach. You seem not the doer any longer, but
the observer of atoms colliding in space, as the bat spits the ball heavenward
at the moment that you, the bat and the ball become one in an moment of
reality. You round the bases, and dance across home plate, jubilant that you
have found the vibe of life once more.
It’s a tremendous credit to their ability, that the band, deep into the
instrumental return towards the end of Loving Cup did not miss a beat when our
brother fan ran across the stage chased by a rather slow Carini. I would think
on center stage in a massive crowd of twenty thousand or so, one might have a
lingering bit of trepidation over being so vulnerable. It’s conveniently safe
to conclude that the majority of us would never threaten anyone, let alone the
individuals whom we cherish so dearly. But shear numbers produce increased
deviations from the mean, and, sorry to say, the likelihood of some whacko
attacking the band increases with the size of the venues. For the band to stay
as transfixed in the music while all of us huddle possibly menacingly at times,
is a credit to their ability once again. But the high hard one definitely came
close at the end of Loving Cup.
Shamelessly, I must admit, I’m glad it did, because something definitely
changed in the band after that event occurred. Whether or not it was an
adrenaline rush isn’t possible to know. All I can opinionate on is that the
bands whole attitude changed. Reacting to the event brought changes to their
musical routine and standard psychological patterns. The way the band
typically begins Antelope was interrupted by Fish’s verbal reaction to the
stage guest. The whole Carini rap reset the rhythmic opening of Antelope, and
I’m not quite sure if all of the band wasn’t quite flushed by the whole thing.
But what’s remarkable about it all is how they absorbed what life had thrown at
them and used the slight twist of events to their advantage, and consequently
ours. They worked their concerns into the music and implemented variations
based on events. This is dynamic, incredible showmanship. Its’s a
recoognizable function of this band that brings it closer to its audience in
ways that other performers are incapable of doing.
Antelope was not an overly tight version of that song. When you’re back on
your toes, at first you’re not always steady. This Antelope played different
than most, not necessarily better, but different. They brought in a unique
stop/start routine during the “run run run run” section towards the end of the
song. I found this an amazing example of musical mastery. Trey also signalled
for the glow stick war during this song, which was another way in which they
responded to the “insanity” of the moment, using it to keep the vibe high, the
emotional level peaked, yet controlled. What followed as the encore was simply
an acceleration of the vibe energy. Antelope was the adjustment to the rush of
disaster, and the encore was their homerun. The strongest memory I have of
that night is of Trey doing a guitar dance while Tweeprise raged on stage. In
triumphant ecstacy, they were crossing home plate, dancing to the vibe of life.
I’m old enough, and also lucky enough, to remember being at Yankee Stadium and
witnessing Mickey Mantle drop one in the right field seats to win a game in the
bottom of the ninth. I lived the combined emotion of fifty thousand screaming
ecstatic fans in jubilant triumph as a hobbled old man crossed home plate with
one more coup, giving us all one more joyful memory to fill our simple little
lives. I can honestly tell you all that there isn’t really much difference for
me at this point in my life between that recollection and the one of the band
at the end of 4/3.
I sincerely hope, for all of you, many such memories in life.
have a great weekend,
bill
Did not tell my parents I was coming (because we decided to go at 2 am) home. Almost got my head bashed in by my step father (who was in his underwear) with a 9 iron in his hand while I was coming in the window. Got tickets that morning at ticketmaster when it opened. The rest is history! 
