Schools of Phish fans demonstrate it's all about going with the flow at Shoreline July 11, 2003 - San Franciso Chronicle By Neva Chonin There should be a plaque displayed at the entrance to every Phish concert: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be freaks . . . " For the jam-band community, being a freak is a good thing. It allowed one woman at Phish's Wednesday show at the Shoreline Amphitheatre to wear full fairy wings without fear of mockery. It enabled some guy decked out in a suit made of laminated Caltrans cards to garner interest, not scorn, as he checked out a booth raffling off backstage passes to save endangered salmon. And, every time Phish plays, it encourages the armies of fans who follow this band across the country to dance like boneless noodles and act dopey and generally just be their own happy selves without fretting about adhering to the latest canon of cool. That's why, with little radio and MTV exposure and decent, but not stratospheric, record sales, Phish -- singer-guitarist Trey Anastasio, bassist Mike Gordon, drummer Jon Fishman and keyboardist Page McConnell -- has grown into the biggest jam outfit since the days of the Dead. The band members' anti- commercialism frees them to thrive while doing their own thing, from keeping ticket prices low to encouraging bootlegging to boasting a drummer who performs in a dress. Phish's two nights at Shoreline were part of its first tour since taking a two-year hiatus that saw the Vermont band releasing a slew of live albums and Anastasio going solo and working with Oysterhead (a collaboration with Primus' Les Claypool and ex-Police drummer Stewart Copeland). Last year, the members reunited to rehearse for a New Year's Eve show and wound up recording an album, "Round Room." It was a classically spontaneous Phish move. The faithful are more than happy to welcome them back. Following in the footsteps of jam granddaddies the Dead, Phish has built a devoted fan base through improvisational live shows and extensive touring. But the group's unique appeal also echoes Vermont, where people do what they want. On Wednesday, there was Anastasio and Gordon's synchronized bouncing on trampolines during an 18-minute opening jam on "You Enjoy Myself"; always, there are oblique lyrics that somehow manage to be both absurd and profound. The two-hour-plus Shoreline show -- broken into two sets -- was a classic Phish-fest of songs that clocked in at more than 10 minutes each (except for a brief cover of Stevie Wonder's "Boogie On Reggae Woman") that blended permutations of rock, jazz, blues, bluegrass, funk and folk into a seamless musical stream. In the first set, the mellow "Simple" and "Mist" moved into the up-tempo "Chalkdust Torture," which then segued to the tempo-shifting funk of "Bathtub Gin." For the uninitiated, it was often difficult to tell where one number ended and another began. Similarly, the music's free-form nature can blur into a jumble of notes for those who aren't onstage playing or in the audience grooving, but since the vast majority of those at the near-capacity show belonged to one category or the other, the criticism seems moot. 'Tis the nature of the beast: One is either into the jam dynamic or not, and those who aren't give the genre a wide berth. There are few skeptical newbies at a Phish show. But there's no denying that Phish can play. Anastasio's solos during songs such as the upbeat, arena-rocking "AC/DC Bag" and the more eclectic "Piper" sounded like aural jigsaw puzzles with shifting pieces. Gordon took a turn in the spotlight during "Mike's Song"; Fishman played relentlessly with syncopation and beat; McConnell's piano set the mood during an encore cover of the Rolling Stones' "Loving Cup." Even the group's lighting director, Chris Kuroda, showed why he's spawned a cult following, with mind-melting displays that were as much a part of the music as the instruments on the stage. Though Phish eschews bland, between-song chatter, it bonds with its audience with an intimacy that feels uncanny in a huge amphitheater. Over the course of more than two hours, the barrier separating the Phish members from the Phish-heads was nearly nonexistent: Security was as loose as the music, reflecting a casual vibe that hewed closer to yard party than rock concert. The Phish community thrives on such casualness. The band's lack of pretense and improvisational approach encourages its fans to indulge their personal expressions. In turn, they help their band boogie on by turning out by the thousands at every show. Symbiosis, thy name is jam. Article Copyright © 2003 San Franciso Chronicle