Phish's final album provides tombstone June 28, 2004 - IGN.Com By Tom Anderson Album Review - Undermind Phish's final album provides an eerie aural tombstone for the band. Exactly what is undermined on Phish's latest, and presumably final, studio offering is left up for the listener to decide. On the one hand the band is undermining their fanatic cultish fan base with an unparalleled work of maturity and subtle grace. Gone are the references to the mythical land of Gamehendge - you won't find a "Guyute" or a "Llama" or a "Divided Sky" here. Gone is the absurd cavalcade of questionable characters - Elihu, Jezmund and the Armenian man have left the building. Gone are the Dr. Suess rhymes of doaist dementia. Gone are the weird chord changes of haunting beauty. Gone are the extended jams. With all their tricks piled by the cellar door and left to decompose in the rain, Phish has attempted to do something they've never done before - create a studio album that breaks new ground, engages new listeners, and stands on its own as a work of … well, you pick the term: Art? Rock? Music? On the other hand, hindsight being 20 / 20, it seems that pop god wannabe Trey Anastasio has undermined no one other than himself and his loyal bandmate prodigies. In short, Phish has delivered a unique work with this album and in the process have not only reinvented themselves, but have now broken every guideline in the Phish rulebook. But now, instead of celebrating and embracing this new direction, they are imploding upon themselves like a mango rotting in the Micronesian heat alongside a dusty road. They're calling it quits. Hanging up their amps and leaving it all behind. So what does the listener hear after burning Undermind onto an iPod? Many weird and wonderful songs, most of which are wrapped up and ensconced in a pop sensibility. The last track, "Grind" should be the first. So start by playing track 14 and then let the album repeat. "Grind" is a barbershop ditty with a chorus about something abstractly silly. As for the first half of the album? It really could have been released as its own psychedelic alt rock EP. It all starts off with the effects laden "Scents & Subtle Sounds" intro. And this isn't even the entire composition, mind you (the rest of "S&SS" rears its head on the back half of the album), merely the first 90 seconds of skeletonesque prowling. This is followed by the title track, which probably should have been the first single off the album, but was more than likely disqualified due to its 5-minute running time. And as for the next entry, "The Connection," well let's just say that it could be playing on some radio station you aren't listening to while reading this. It's poppy. It'll get stuck in your head. There's whistling. It may drive you insane. And, it'll definitely make you smile. One of the anchors of the album has got to be "A Song I Heard The Ocean Sing." A throwback to late '60s classic rock, the tune wavers and flows through the crags of sonic somnambulism. In it astute listeners will hear hints of Hendrix's "1983…(A Mermaid I Should Turn To Be)" and the first two Floyd albums (we're talking Syd Barrett folks!). Lick this track up, it's tasty ear candy. "Army of One" is Page doing a vintage Elton John impersonation on the keyboard and vocals. This track seriously sounds like a cover of something off of one of Elton's '70s albums, while "Crowd Control" is basically Phish telling the "hardcore" fans to go do you know what to themselves - "the time has come for changes / do something or I will…" is how the lyrics express this sentiment. Needless to say, the crowd refused to change and forced Phish's hand. The first half fantasy EP ends with a dark throbbing instrumental piece called "Maggie's Revenge" - it's a freak-out, and may even be a snippet of studio jamming that producer Tchad Blake alchemized for the disc. Ah, yes, I almost forgot to mention Tchad. Despite his idiotically impossible name, the guy has skills. He's worked with everybody. I mean, EVERYBODY. Don't believe me? Check his credentials. He brings a much needed sensibility to this album, literally interpreting Phish for the masses. Many Phish heads have been clamoring that this album is over produced. Then again, Phish heads always clamor that the studio albums are overproduced. I've been into this band since the first Elektra release Picture of Nectar, which had its own production fiascos - from the studio trying to make the effort sound like a "Live" album to slowing down Trey's voice during "Chalkdust Torture" for radio playability. If Phish is truly breaking up, Tchad holds the honor of being one of the few producers who succeeded with Phish during their Elektra tenure. As for the second half of the album (Album? Who are we kidding!? Does anybody really listen to albums anymore? This is The Future, after all where we buy the CD and rip it to the iPod and skip through playlists faster than a Congressman shuffles through excuses). Where was I? I was talking about "Nothing," the song that kicks off the latter portion of the CD. As the name seems to hint at, "Nothing" is something, sure, but ultimately nothing special. If any thing at all, it's merely a set up for an amusing summer tour anecdote that might go a little something like this: From the innocuousness of that track, the album slips into "Two Versions of Me," which is oddly composed, but you may find yourself humming it nonetheless. "Access Me" is pure Mike. Tchad lays down some incredible effects on this one and you can tell Mike had a blast running Phish through these changes. Mike, for those out of the proverbial know, is Phish's enigmatic bassist and supreme straight-faced joker. "Access" streams nicely into the rest of "Scents & Subtle Sounds," which takes the prize for Best Phish Composition since the hiatus. If you're catching any of the band's final shows this summer, expect great things from this song. From there the album shifts into "Tomorrow's Song," which is more or less an update of "Lengthwise," albeit with four part harmony added for extra effect. This is currently my favorite track on the whole album. Over a samba rhythm lain down by Fishman and Mike, the band incants and conjures peculiar ghosts and memories. If they weren't breaking up, they'd pop this out during their New Year's run, most likely slipping it in between "Mike's" and "Weekapaug." The album closes with an epic slow song (remember, in a just world the final track "Grind" should be first!) entitled "Secret Smile." It's a truly beautiful swan song for the band wherein both Trey and Page take elongated solos which are accented and spiced by Tchad's use of strings and delicate aural layering. In the end, Undermind is neither Phish's greatest studio work, nor their worst. It is their final work, however. And like The Beatles Let It Be (or Abbey Road, depending on how you look at it) and Talking Head's Naked, it will ultimately stand as an eerie tombstone adorning an undead thing. Enjoy it if you can. Review © 2004 IGN Entertainment