Phish - Farmhouse May 15, 2000 - Ace Weekly By T.E. Lyons Album Review - Farmhouse Phish's recorded output initially favored listeners who like space jams, as befits a group that has attracted those who used to wander around in the wake of the Grateful Dead's summer tours. Unfortunately, the throng who fill up parking lots before Phish concerts have apparently only purchased one album copy per vanload. Though the group (and certainly the fans) might deny it, Phish is now recording shorter songs with less inherent improvisation. It seems like a modest turn toward commercial pragmatism. If you want the tunes, buy the album; if you want to hear them stretched out, go catch a show. The devoted will do whatever they always do, but the casual fans might just fork over money twice. That isn't such a bad deal. It's true that since the Dead had seven members, it was large enough to offer more of the variety of a community, while Phish's quartet is sometimes just [Trey] Anastasio's chosen direction plus a skilled, open-minded threesome. But the current crop of tunes are sprightly, and both lyrics and arrangements have their share of witty bon mots. There are some moments that are obvious take-off points for jamming, and they can seem a bit clunky amid the streamlined pace. At such times, Phish sounds more than ever like a Grateful Dead clone band. There's the drop-down organ wash signifying daybreak, the hushed-strut percussion that harks back to "Shakedown Street," the vocal trickery that doubles up on echo to give the listener an effect like being in a stadium and breathing second-hand smoke from controlled substances. Fortunately, such "Dead lite" guideposts don't significantly interfere with the collection's bucolic-but-bouncy vibe. This is fine picnic music, whether or not your tailgate is parked next to a tie-dyed shirt booth.