PHANS OF PHISH MUST PADDLE PHAST TO KEEP PHROM PHOUNDERING June 23, 1994 - The Columbus Dispatch (pg. 6E) by Bill Eichenberger Phish was still playing last night in the Veterans Memorial auditorium when I left after two hours to meet an early deadline. Phish may still be playing when you read this review over your morning coffee. Phish may still be playing next week, next month, next year. Phish, it seems, enjoys playing. If you've ever heard one of Phish's five albums, your response might justifiably be, ''What's all the phuss?'' (I couldn't resist. I promise not to do it again!) But in concert, Phish is something altogether different, more powerful, more fun (see, I didn't say phun, did I?), more exhilarating, more unpredictable. At one point during the proceedings, guitarist Trey Anastasio and pianist Page McConnell traded fours (like they used to do in those old jazz cutting contests), shifted into a tango (''Make love, dude, not war'') and wound up playing some sort of eastern European wedding tune. That was after they'd invited the listeners to ''smell my mule'' or some such nonsense during the previous selection, a sci-fi bluegrass jam called Scent of a Mule, which featured close, three-part harmony. Phish was patently unfunky (ah, I resist the urge yet again) throughout the concert, though it mattered little. What the foursome lacked in syncopation they made up for in furious tempos and ferocious drive. The quartet didn't just sample styles for the fun of it. There were plenty of intriguing musical ideas kicked around, especially between Anastasio and McConnell, the stars of the show. Even the theme music from Close Encounters of the Third Kind transmuted eventually into a fascinating, demi-jazz jam with weird harmonies and discordant keys. Serious musicians, these guys, though not above poking fun at themselves. During the opening number of the second set, Phish filled the stage with dry ice and turned on nearly blinding strobe lights while Anastasio and bassist Mike Gordon played their instruments and jumped on minitrampolines. Without missing a beat, the pair bounced and bounded, a '60s-tinged psychedelic romp roaring out behind them. Phish phirst (OK, I swear, last time) performed in Vermont bars and clubs. Though it drew more than 300,000 fans to its concerts in 1993 and grossed more than $5 million, band members haven't let success spoil them. Refreshingly absent from last nights concert was any sort of rock 'n' roll posturing. The band took the stage without fanfare or introduction, as if it was about to perform for a bunch of close friends.