A phond pharewell Dearly beloved August 8, 2004 - Atlanta Journal-Constitution By Nick Marino We bid goodbye to ultimate jam band Last summer about 60,000 Phish fans gathered at Limestone, Maine, for a weekend festival. This program features interviews interwoven with performances from that event. A eulogy, to be read next weekend at Phish's final concert in Coventry, Vt. Dear phriends, We have come to Vermont with one goal in mind: to hook up in our campsites. And, while hooking up, to say goodbye to Phish, one of the great bands of our time. For too long --- for the band's entire career, in fact --- Phish has been written off by the mainstream as just another Grateful Dead wannabe, a noodly band playing self-indulgent 20-minute jams to dirty hippies. But, as you know, that is only part of the story. Some hippies are both dirty and smelly. In any case, the Dead comparison has been dramatically overstated. True, the bands' business models were basically the same: Forget radio and MTV support, allow a close-knit community of fans to tape and exchange your shows, tour 'til you drop. And true, each was immortalized with its own Ben & Jerry's flavor. But the bands' sounds and legacies are so totally different, and Phish Food so totally trumps Cherry Garcia, that there's really no comparison. I will thus resist characterizing our time with Phish as a "long, strange trip." I will instead say that our lengthy and unusual journey started here in the Green Mountain State more than two decades ago. And so it's only fitting that it end here as we pay our respects to the band that, over time, became one of the most reliable concert draws in the business and one of the most eclectic acts in music history, utterly transcending what it meant to be a jam band. Phish wrote bluegrass (''Poor Heart"), funky instrumentals (''Cars Trucks Buses"), epic rock songs (''Divided Sky") and goofy larks (''Fluffhead"). They dabbled in hip-hop, and they loved reggae so much that their frontman had a dog named Marley. Their new CD, "Undermind," contains at least two great, conventional pop songs. You want to label Phish? Try the phrase "alternative band," because Phish's music really provided an alternative: You could listen to whiny twits cramming their miserable childhoods into four-minute alterna-rock songs, or you could listen to Phish, a playful and hypercreative quartet that never met a musical boundary it couldn't obliterate. You could watch "American Idol," which aimed squarely for the middle of the road, or you could listen to Phish, a band that aimed for the margins. Despite operating outside the mainstream, these guys were hardly obscure. Their shows were massive and lucrative affairs that, according to the concert industry trade publication Pollstar, grossed $35.8 million last year. They made several gold records. Their multiday, camping-friendly mega-concerts --- with names like Lemonwheel, Clifford Ball, Big Cypress and The Great Went --- drew tens of thousands of people to obscure locations for marathon performances lasting up to seven hours. Their big finale is expected to temporarily make Coventry Vermont's most populous city. Why did so many love Phish so madly? We loved them for their unpredictability. Who else would have (or could have) covered the Beatles' entire "White Album" on Halloween, following that on subsequent Halloweens with the Who's "Quadrophenia," the Velvet Underground's "Loaded" and, one night in Atlanta, Talking Heads' "Remain in Light"? What other band would've been zany enough to use a vacuum cleaner as a musical instrument, as drummer Jon Fishman occasionally did? Who else would've flown over a Boston Garden audience in a giant hot dog? Phish used to sing a cappella, barbershop-quartet style. They used to play chess with their audience. For crying out loud, a few weeks ago in Brooklyn, they performed with rapper Jay-Z! We also loved them for their proficiency. All four members wrote songs, and they were such good musicians that they'd occasionally switch instruments midset. And they wrote incredibly intricate songs that, even with all the improvisation, had recognizable shapes. I think of Phish as a yo-yo and the Dead as a Hacky Sack: Even the jammiest Phish songs eventually snapped back. (Check out the dime Phish stopped on to conclude the 15-minute version of "Harry Hood" released on "A Live One.") The Dead's music was, by comparison, a limp little beanbag --- requiring a swift kick to get it airborne. The Dead may have had a better sense of space, I'll give them that. But Phish had a more sophisticated sense of timing, a sharper pop sensibility and a much funnier sense of humor. Now they've gone and broken up, saying they want to leave the game before becoming tiresome. Many of you are obviously upset. I can see you dabbing your eyes with your rolling papers. But the band has given us so much music: a dozen studio albums, more than two dozen official live albums and all the bootlegs anyone could ever want. They toured constantly --- we had our chance to enjoy them. Now let them rest in peace. You look like you could use some rest, too, my fellow Phishheads. Especially you there, down in front. I've got a sweet fleece sleeping bag --- care to come back to my campsite? Article Copyright © 2004 Atlanta Journal-Constitution