Lengthy jams scale back Phish's finest moments July 14, 2003 - The Seattle Times By Rachel Devitt I tried to like Phish, I really did. Maybe it was just the apocalyptic middle-of-nowhereness of the Gorge on Saturday night. But I really couldn't handle one more epically boring "Trey Anastasio channels Santana through some sort of Sharper Image psychedelic cell-phone (Can you hear me now, Carlos? Please?!)" jam during the first show of Phish's two-night Gorge gig, their first appearance here since their 1998 hiatus and subsequent 2000 "break-up." OK, maybe that's a bit harsh. The show did have some good moments. The inside jokes and audience participation Phish shows are known for are usually entertaining. And I do enjoy watching the neo-hippie dance, sort of a cross between air-swimming and slapping at the behinds of an imaginary swarm of flying monkeys. "Tweezer"'s chucka-chucka guitar and P-Funk-esque slap bass and the country-rock, "Amazing Grace"-based "Water in the Sky" gave the second set some integrity. And I always like the funky bass line and eerie unison vocals of "Story of the Ghost," the sixth song of the second set. In the first set, "Mexican Cousin" and "Mock Song," both from the new album "Round Room," were a little tepid, but the fugal samba (complete with "cha-cha-cha" claps from the crowd) of "Stash" had some nice moments — that is, until the song was completely hijacked by yet another inane 10- to 80-minute jam. Hardcore Phish fans will probably think I don't get it, that I'm some Neanderthal neophyte who just can't comprehend that the jams are the point. But that's my point: Phish is a jam band whose jams just don't go anywhere. Compared to the skilled intricacy of the real Santana or the creative "polyethnic Cajun slamgrass" of Leftover Salmon, Phish comes off sounding like the Grateful Dead's used-car salesman son-in-law. Article Copyright © 2003 The Seattle Times