Voices Carry November 1, 1996 - Chicago Maroon (VOICES) By Moacir de Sá Pereira Album Review - Billy Breathes Moacir de Sá Pereira pulls a few bong hist of the dank and joins the Hippie nation in narcosis, seeking the Truth that supposedly Phish contains within their new release It's okay for Hootie to make a Hootie album. But when Phish makes a Hootie album..." My friend e-mailed me that sentiment almost a month ago, as we idly speculated on what Billy Breathes, Phish's seventh release, would hold. Was the big-time not far away? Rolling Stone certainly thinks so. The magazine, which has for years gone out of its way to soil Phish's reputation (by printing, among other things, a grammatically disastrous criticism of a tongue-in-cheek four-voice a cappella rendition of "Free Bird"), has made a complete about-face, ejaculating praise all over the band at every opportune moment. Unsurprisingly, though, Rolling Stone has it backwards, as does Elektra, who is promoting this album obscenely. Billy Breathes is not what makes Phish the most popular Modernist band in the United States; it's not even close. Billy Breathes, in comparison to what Phish has done in the past, falls to stunningly forgettable. Today, however, with the HORDE festival erupting in size, the band finds itself in a very peculiar position. Should they continue their Modern path, redefining popular music through sonic dialogue and irony? Or should they rest on their laurels--take a breather--and play into the arms of critics and teeny boppers of the pockets-lined-with-disposable-income variety? Spoiled Phish In their 13th year, Phish is doing several things badly. Perhaps most significant is the direction their studio works have taken. Perhaps in response to their growing fame since the release of 1994's Hoist, the songs coming from of the songwriting twosome of guitarist/vocalist Trey Anastasio and boyhood friend Tom Marshall have been smaller and terser; expansive meditations like "You Enjoy Myself" and "David Bowie," both released on debut Junta (1988), have given way to musical burps "Bliss" and "Swept Away," from Billy Breathes. In 1995, Phish released A Live One, an album that had, in the words of bassist Mike Gordon, "fit as many minutes as was technically possible" onto two CDs. Gordon related that the disc was possibly too long for anyone to sit through, even though it included some of the best work Phish performed from the fall tour of 1994, including a half-hour "Tweezer" that establishes the wide palette with which the rest of the second disc paints. A Live One is the pinnacle of Phish's recording career--the paramount essence of the live show experience is finally captured on CD, save the annoying offers of a "kind trade" for your extra ticket. But the astral distances Phish cross during a gigantic second set live have been forfeited for Hootie-mania. The single from Billy Breathes, "Free" is now a flaccid imitation of what it is live, as entire sections have been hacked away to bring the song into a radio-poop four minutes. Furthermore, Phish has also greatly upped the role of lyrics with Billy Breathes. Marshall has been working to give his lyrics poetic soul and emotion, but now the results fall easily into what can be denounced as cheese. Still, the crucial center of the Phish experience has always been the live show. Yet even those are becoming more and more difficult to endure. First, popularity has brought a negative element to the shows, since the stereotypes are true--several people seem to be there for little more than the bargain basement-rate narcotics. And if the scraggly youths with skateboards stapled to their shoes begging you to either give them your ticket or buy their opium is not bad enough, lot vending, in the wake of the Dead's demise, has exploded in visibility--trinkets of every sort can be now purchased at the show. Phish played an abbreviated summer tour this year, which included three overall stunningly lackluster shows within 200 miles of Chicago. They played predominately safe sets that seemed to circle around ballads like "Talk" and "Waste." Shows grew duller and duller as Phish concentrated more on these user-friendly poppy songs, including wheeling out a mini-riser from which all four men, with acoustic instruments and a tiny drum kit, would play the songs in unendurable blocks of four. Furthermore, in the 11 shows so far of the fall tour, of the 14 songs performed four or more times, eight are on Billy Breathes. Reeling it in But, Phish is also tearing down the house in their live performances this fall. In a buildup to their Halloween show at the Omni in Atlanta (which sold out in 12 minutes), the shows have been tighter and more interesting, whether it's circus dancers and contortionists at Madison Square Garden, or the return of "Ha Ha Ha" in Hampton, VA, after a 45 show drought. Perhaps the most interesting development in the Phish live scene has been the Halloween show. Every year for the past three, the band has covered an album in its entirety. The first year it was The Beatles, and last year, at the Rosemont Horizon, Phish covered Quadrophenia. This year, though, they played Talking Heads' Remain in Light. During the first set, guitarist Trey Anastasio, in the middle of a fairy tale narration about the mythological land he created Gamehendge, had the godhead Icculus transform into David Byrne. The third set of last night's Halloween show, after the Talking Heads set, included a horn section and extra percussionist. Quite and interesting musical treat it seems. Remain in Light? One begins to imagine a scruffy Anastasio in a big suit asking the crowd of thousands "How do I work this?" Back to the album, though. For all of its low moments, Billy Breathes contains four amazingly good songs. "Billy Breathes" is a sleepy lullaby that swirls around odd "A Day in the Life"-esque chord changes. The other ballads on the album, in comparison, are dull and cheesy at best, and total Beatles rip-offs at worst. "Billy Breathes"'s structure also casts a spell, as even a hint of theremin wafts over the canon refrain. "Cars Trucks Buses," on the other hand, is the first song by keyboardist Page McConnell that Phish has recorded since "Magilla" on Picture of Nectar (1992). With it, McConnell shows the recent influence of bands like the Meters and Medeski Martin and Wood. The Hammond is flailing, and the funky beat is bubbling. The murky and sub-marine "Theme From the Bottom" and "Steep," the third and fourth really good songs of the album, also betray Beatles influences, but subtly. In order to record Billy Breathes, the band closed itself off for a few days and just sat inf a circle, playing a note from each bandmember, until an organic counter structure, "the Blob," emerged. The band, however, then brought in Steve Lillywhite, current jam band knob-twiddler in demand, for the album. "The Blob" was sidelined, and now exists in the two-minute tune "Steep." But those two minutes are the most interesting on the album. Its backmasks covering piano sprinkles introduce Pink Floyd-ish lyrics that descend into a bare bass riff echoed by keyboard effects. The brief temporal existence of "Steep" shows, ironically, the bright future that a Modernist band can still continue to explore within the context of deep musical conversations that typically run 20 times longer than this song. Instead of creating annoying little pop ditties à la Hootie, Phish should continue doing what they do best. Their art, as delicate as it is, is still simply not ready for the dull commercial masses Article © 1996 Chicago Voice