Band displays rich blend July 22, 2003 - Indianapolis Star By David Lindquist click on thumbnail for larger image When Phish last appeared in Indiana, it was the summer of 2000 and the rock band had pushed its mainstream currency to an all-time high. The quartet returned to Verizon Wireless Music Center on Monday -- not as conquering heroes but as four musicians who stepped away from the hype long enough to rediscover their roots. While an audience of 22,000 fell short of the group's customary sellouts at the venue, Phish is booked for two more nights of big box-office numbers. If there's any single thing that separates today's incarnation from yesterday's, it may lie in a more collaborative spirit among vocalist-guitarist Trey Anastasio, keyboard player Page McConnell, bass player Mike Gordon and drummer Jon Fishman. This presents a contrast to the latter three simply getting out of the way of Anastasio's world-class instrumental solos. The old way resulted in some jaw-dropping excursions, but the new way pays more democratic dividends. The band peaked during "Stash," an obvious anchor of the pre-intermission set. The showy, sly epic seems fit for a soundtrack commissioned by silly, surreal filmmaker Terry Gilliam. The audience hit its unspoken cues for unison clapping early in the number, which took flight after competent solo passages from Anastasio and McConnell. Moving from acoustic piano to synthesizer, McConnell joined forces with Fishman to dictate a feeling of swirling dread. Upon this foundation, Anastasio and Gordon flexed raw power by nudging repetitive riffs to unbearable tension. And what seemed to be the ultimate precipice became a wall, which the players gladly rammed against for another minute or so. After this ran its course, Gordon stepped to the microphone for the clinching lyric (and vague final pronouncement) of "maybe so, maybe not." With his bass given a generous place in the sound mix, Gordon made his presence felt throughout. Visually, it was impossible not to notice his lumpy physique accented by a sleeveless yellow T-shirt and white pants. He also sang lead on assorted hoe-down tunes. What was Gordon trying to say about Indiana? Let's just assume these were statements of rural admiration. There's no hick in New Jersey guy Anastasio, who pushed the accelerated cool of "Birds of a Feather." His guitar did dominate this one, sprawling from a tentative exploration of mid-range notes to a piercing jam to an amplified replication of the vocal melody. Whether it's their own curiosity or a courtesy to their fans, the value of Phish lies in the players' willingness to open up their songs and see what's inside. Article Copyright © 2003 Indianapolis Star