New record from reunited Phish sounds half-baked January 4, 2003 - Tulsa World By Matt Gleason Album Review - Round Room Trey Anastasio of Phish performs at New York's Madison Square Garden on New Year's Eve. On repeated listenings, "Round Room" is neither as bad nor as good as some might let on. It's basically four guys in a studio trying to reconnect musically. When Trey Anastasio and his musical cohorts decided to go on hiatus in October of 2000, diehard Phish fans let out a collective gasp of horror as though they'd been sucker-punched in the gut. "What could possibly have happened?" some fretted in coffeehouses and head shops across the country. There hadn't been any vicious infighting among guitarist Anastasio, drummer Jon Fishman, bassist Mike Gordon or keyboardist Page McConnell. Nor had there been any embarrassing trips to rehab or colossal mental breakdowns. The boys were just burned out and needed a break to pursue their own projects and reboot their neglected personal lives. In the meantime, Phish fans stockpiled their bootleg concert recordings and rare EPs, and prayed to the patron saint of lost jam bands that their beloved Phish would soon return. And then it actually happened. Two years to the month from when they separated, Phish was back in Anastasio's 150-year-old barn near the band's hometown of Burlington, Vt., recording its highly anticipated follow up to "Farmhouse." Within months fans were clambering for their prized copies of the new record, "Round Room," which was not accidentally released just in time for Christmas mega-sales. But even rabid fans soon discovered "Round Room" was no "A Picture of Nectar" or even "Billy Breathes." If you check out Internet message boards you'll find three distinct Phish camps: those who would covet recordings of Anastasio gargling Scope; those preaching understanding of an obviously mediocre record; and those spitting pure venom. On repeated listenings, "Round Room" is neither as bad nor as good as some might let on. It's basically four guys in a studio trying to reconnect mu sically. However, one would have hoped that their sabbatical reinvigorated their creativity. These tracks are, in essence, souped-up demos that have glimmers of excellence. Stylistically, the record isn't as funkified or fun as previous efforts. Instead it tends to veer in a more subdued direction captured on songs such as the somber "Friday." But, thankfully, with the inclusion of the tequila-soaked "Mexican Cousin," the record isn't entirely devoid of Phish's quirky sense of humor. Ideally, Phish would have road-tested these new tunes before officially releasing them. That would have satisfied their fans' insatiable appetites for the band's stellar live show while also enabling them to perfect these quickly produced studio tracks. The result might have wowed everyone, including all those naysayers who never let them forget their Grateful Dead forefathers. But they could have saved us all a lot of trouble if they'd just released these on the Internet. If it was well-received, then they could have put it on the racks bolstered by an array of special goodies. Fellow jam-lovers the Dave Matthews Band inadvertently did that with the "The Lillywhite Sessions" and came up with the chart-topping "Busted Stuff." However, Phish went into the studio Oct. 6 and 7, 2002, to lay down the first of 20 tracks for this record. Then they took a week off and recorded for just two more days. Holy half-assed attempt, Batman! The band took four months to record "Farmhouse," so one has to wonder whether hubris or, more likely, corporate pressure led them to release this much-ballyhooed, under-cooked and underwhelming piece of Phish. © 2003 The Tulsa World