Great Woods PAC with Phish Last Night July 22, 1992 - The Boston Globe (ARTS & FILM; Pg. 33) by Steve Morse Chalk up another coup of smart summer booking. Take a veteran jam band in Santana, mix with a youthful jam band in Vermont's fast-exploding Phish - and together you have the ingredients of a super-successful, come-one, come-all night at Great Woods. More than 11,600 fans basked in the communal, post-Woodstock vibes last night, among them 2,500 who walked up at the last minute to buy tickets. It was the largest walk-up that Great Woods has had in its seven-year history, despite rainy skies that threatened the show but held off. Nor did anyone look disappointed, for this was a miraculous, mega-volt ride throughout, with both bands playing at a furious clip that contradicted the notion that hippie culture has become a laid-back phenomenon. This was one of the more compatible bills of the summer - and they'll do it again at Holman Stadium in Nashua tonight for those of you kicking yourself that you skipped Mansfield. Santana, especially, were in another stratosphere last night. Guitarist-guru Carlos Santana dedicated their new album, "Milagro," to deceased friends Bill Graham and Miles Davis - and the emotions he's felt clearly spilled over to his impassioned playing. His eyes-closed, head-to-the-sky solos rippled with metallic bursts and feedback-laced sustains that shimmered into seeming infinity. Santana pushed all the right tribal buttons with old faves "Black Magic Woman," "Oye Como Va," "Soul Sacrifice" and "Europa," stretching the songs with a Latin-rock, jam-session flair that was as exhilarating as it was loud. But it was newer material like "Somewhere in Heaven," sung by Alex Ligertwood and dedicated to Graham and Davis, that had the most prayerful, soul-connecting impact. Dressed in a rebel-like red bandanna and green, tie-dyed shirt, Carlos set the unbridled tone, but it was Hammond B3 organist Chester Thompson (formerly of Tower of Power) who added the earthy, funk-powered foundation, along with the unmatched, wall-of-sound percussionists Raul Rekow (whose blacksmith arms nearly ground his congas to a pulp) and timbales virtuoso Karl Perazzo. The only missing ingredient was Santana's ageless, 80-year-old Cuban percussionist Armando Perazzo, who has retired, though his energy gap has been filled beautifully. Phish set the table with a kinetic, Grateful Dead-geared chemistry that also somehow bridged Sergio Mendes and New Riders of the Purple Sage. Their lyrics were light, but their jams rivaled Santana's for intensity.