Phish's magic blooms a bit late June 24, 2004 - Indianapoils Star By David Lindquist Whimsical rock band Phish rarely is associated with anxiety, but the sensation dogged the Vermont-based quartet Wednesday night at Verizon Wireless Music Center. As dates tick by on the group's final tour, the pressure is on to make every show count. For an improvisational band -- one with performances loosely designed to catch random moments of greatness -- this is a daunting challenge. Phish guitarist Trey Anastasio searches long and sometimes with indifference before his solos reach a payoff. So what if that reward didn't arrive Wednesday, when a sell-out audience of 24,000 gathered to catch the first of two farewell shows at the Noblesville amphitheater? Things didn't look good early. The band delivered a safe and plodding hour of music before intermission. The first set closed with "Split Open and Melt," a song that's often a guitar clinic in Anastasio's hands. But his marathon solo was as stiff as the statue's pose he struck while playing it. In theory (and past practice), his gimmicky stance provides a visual focal point as the tune's energy builds. Here, it was merely a literal representation of a go-nowhere sound. Keyboard player Page McConnell gave voice to the first hour's mood when singing "Army of One" from the band's current album, "Undermind." "Just can't compete with the weight of it all," he sang in a soulful tenor we haven't heard enough during Phish's 21-year run. The lyrics of "Army of One" don't have anything to do with the band's breakup, however. As a muddy parallel between relationship woes and the backdrop of war, the song won't be remembered as a Phish classic. The band's true legacy will be tied to four musicians -- Anastasio, McConnell, bass player Mike Gordon and drummer Jon Fishman -- who found unlimited joy when performing in front of an audience. Thankfully, that magic emerged after intermission. The second set was a front-to-back success as boundaries were erased and music flowed freely. In more casual terms, the players let their backbones slip. A cover of the Talking Heads' "Crosseyed and Painless" proved to be the unlikely turning point. Fishman took vocal duties on the rock-disco hybrid from 1980. Gordon's bedrock bass allowed Anastasio's guitar to glide easily above and eventually achieve man-on-fire intensity. And that's the aspect of Phish that will endure. Article Copyright © 2004 NPR