Catch of the summer? Fresh Phish at the Mann June 28, 1995 - Philadelphia Inquirer by Tom Moon Fearless prediction: The summer of 1995 will be the time when Phish, the Vermont quartet known for its endless jamming, steps out from the shadow of the Grateful Dead, stops being called a "Baby Dead" band, and finally gets some respect for its heady, unpredictable music. To its Phishhead fans, of course, the iconoclastic band long ago crossed this threshold. But the public at large has resisted: Phish's last album, Hoist, sold less than 500,000 copies, despite a hefty marketing budget(there was a budget?) and the band's first ever video(which you can only see on Beavis and Butthead). Meanwhile, critics(like yourself) have dismissed the quartet-identified on T-shirts at the Mann Music Center, where Phish opened a two-night stand Saturday, as the Phearsome Phoursome" and Vermont's Phinest"-for its hodgepodge blend of campy harmony, contemporary-classical noodling, and displays of jazz-fusion virtyosity that last too long and say too little(like those of us who have a good thesarus). But if Saturday's sold-out performance and a DLCD(i abbreviated it), A Live One, which hits stores tomorrow, are any indication, it is time to rethink Phish(in other words jump on the bandwagon because it is now cool to like Phish). In a short four-year interval, it has gone from playing clubs to headlining amphitheaters-without changing its decidedly uncommercial music. Along the way, Phish's touring operation has borrowed from the Grateful Dead's crowd-cultivation playbood: It offers collectors a prime home-taping vantage point near the soundboard, and its printed newsletter(circulation: 80,000) is summplmented by hundreds of weekly posts(from band members and fans alike) on the phishnet electronic bulletin board(A. It's more like hundreds a day :) B. Its a newsgroup not a bulletin board.) Phish's breakthrough will not be a commercial one-that would be anathema to loyal followers, many of whom traveled from Boston, Washington and points in-between for Saturday's eye-opening, precise show. (Note to Grateful Dead marketing dept: Some D.C. based fans said they could have gone to see Saturday's dead concert at RFK stadium, but chose to drive more than 3 hours to catch Phish(Score one for Phish!!!!)) Rather, the live album and current tour will change this band's image-from nerdy Dead ringers to assertive, individualistic artists. With its expansive live shows, this band is doing something genuinely unique: It is gathering large groups of calm, well-adjusted people together for music that is at least partially apontaneous and informed by a sense of exploration. Through tootling, good-timey grooves and jarring stop-on-a-dime tempo changes, through indulgent instrumental overtures and solos that are even longer and less choesive than those of the Dead, it somehow manages to keep its crowds standing and dancing for more than two hours. There elements, coupled with the convention-challenging guita lpaying of Trey Anastasio, help mask Phish's one weakness: songwriting that is often just plain dumb.(Lighten up and get a clue. This guy probably thinks Bon Jovi is deeply soul searching). This is a band of accomplished musicians who for some reason feel compelled to preface their musical explorations with silly, melodically undistinguished lyrics.(Again, get a clue) "Silent in the Morning" contained itchy, crunchy-granola(????) lines like "Once again in morning stilness." The first verse to "David Bowie"(it has verses? news to me!) was nothing more than eight repetitions of the rock stars name(OOH, so you can count and you actually know who Bowie is?); the second, eight repetitions of the band name "UB40". Between them came the meat of the music, elaborate lines that united Anastasio's guitar with Page McConnell's piano in search for unusual, often dissonant sonorities.(whoah! Break out that thesarus!) It is this confident, patient instrumental play that saves Phish , and makes A Live One, which contains staples(doesn't staples usually infer that they are always played?) of their concert repertoire that have not been documented on studio albums, worth hearing(Gamehendge not worth heraing?). The songs themselves might be forgettable, but they're twisted and inverted until they become a journey-galloping chases followed by moments of quiet reflection, crystalline melodies spelled by moments of murky collecive improvisation. Phish not only balances these polar extremes, but orchestrates them: Selections like "The Squirming Coil" and "Stash", which were part of Saturday's et and are available on A Live One, capture the band moving from on knotty, improbable art-rock plateau to another. For all its virtuosity, ther is an emotional element to Phish's music. At times, the band is like a gospel choir that's deep into its "Hallelujag" choruses, determined to turn up the intensity until every heart is healed. But because the songs meander(meander???? c'mon!), there's rarely a sense of mission. The driving, cresting high points are their own reward, and this is clearly part of the plan. By shifting the empahsis away from pop's traditional narrative and responsibilty, and replacing rock's earnestness with equal doses of operatice excess and offhand camp(Saturday's show featured a barbershop-styoe "Sweet Adeline"(camp? I'm sorry i consider camp to be something along the lines of Rocky Horror)), Phish makes thinking-person music that's surprisingly carefree.