DAY 1: TOP PHISH

6:00 pm - Friday 4/21/23
Assessment of the vibes - circa 1-hour B.P. (Before Phish)

Dina: lowkey (but excited)

Meena: today feels like Sunday (church)

Betsy: has been waiting for years

Ryan: good, fantastic

Anthony: in the sauce

Kevin: first phish, bushy tailed and doe-eyed

The group is reaching unprecedented levels of stoked. We have arrived at the Hollywood Bowl with spirits high, and expectations higher. The hype builds as we are only 1 hour away from coming face to face with the American jam band Phish. Known for their extremely long improvisations, multi-album lore plotlines, and the underground whippet market following their tour route, Phish is a spectacle I’ve been dying to witness for years.

As we first stepped onto the lots surrounding the Hollywood Bowl we realized we were in for an unhinged weekend. Mobs of balloon salesmen shouting “ICE COLD WHIPPETS 2 FOR $20,” ominous street meats for sale, and shitty $5 tie-dye shirts were just some of the wares being peddled to us from all directions. This chaos was further amplified by the incessant explosions of nitrous balloons happening in all directions. The experience was akin to getting airdropped right in the middle of the Vietnam War, a very traumatizing experience.

I thanked the powers above that I didn’t have to reconcile this absolute scene with a day job, unlike the army of Gen X-ers in cargo shorts that comprised the vast majority of the mob. This was no place for a 19-year-old, this was a grown man’s land. Seeing as I wasn’t yet a seasoned Phish veteran, I quickly vacated the premises with the pieces of my soul that remained uncorrupted.

It was shortly after exiting this black market that my party ascended the mountain, making our camp at the top of the Hollywood Bowl. Our throne was situated in the exact middle of the very last row, a location hence referred to as Top Phish.

We missed the band’s entrance by 20 minutes, just in time to catch the second half of their first song, “The Moma Dance.” An extended jam followed, eventually flowing into the funky groove of their second song “Sigma Oasis.”

The first set drifted through all the most pleasant textures and Mixolydian flavors you could imagine but left me with a craving for something more solid. Things seemed very loose, very noodle-y, like the band was just warming up. This feeling was compounded by the fact that there were 20,000 Phish heads around me waiting for their drugs to kick in.

Luckily near the end of the 1st set, the band bestowed a rare “Party Time” upon the crowd. According to Phish.net, there is about a 1.74% chance that Phish plays “Party Time” at a show. They average about 1 “Party Time” per 57 shows, so even the most eager Phish connoisseurs in the crowd knew they might not ever experience this again. The vibes were quickly sent soaring with lyrics like

“Party Time!
Party Time!
Party Time!
Party Time!
Party Time!
Party Time!
Party Time!
Party Time!”

Those are all the lyrics by the way. It’s just “Party Time.” This, coincidentally, is also how I’d describe the concert at this point. By now bassist Mike Gordon was reaching deep into his bag of pedals, using the most absurd effects to create a crazed robotic squelching. All sorts of the world’s greatest gizmos and gadgets were on display at this point, as Mikey and the band demonstrate this world-class engineering.

As the alien noises faded and the first set came to a close, we found ourselves in a particularly silly mood. The crowd was having an absolute party of a time, but it was during the mid-set break when shit got real. The second the lights turned back on the whole venue was sent hurtling into the chaos realm. Nobody could hide the absurd amount of drugs they had taken, and they were all hitting at the same time. It was like one of those dreams where you come to school naked, but instead, all these people were just completely exposed in their fucked-up-ness. There was this tornado of manic energy swirling around me, collecting in little pockets of crazy stuff going on nearby. From my vantage point at Top Phish, I could see all sorts of quirked-up characters lurking suspiciously for the next set, but the lion noises being made by the man to my left gave a particularly feral vibe that I didn’t appreciate. If the music didn’t come back soon we might’ve had a situation on our hands.

Thankfully Phish soon delivered with fan-favorite “Sample In A Jar,” which the dude behind me seemed incredibly stoked about. One of the unfortunate aspects of being at Top Phish was the fact that this dude’s drunken shouting of the lyrics was louder than the sound system of the Hollywood Bowl. Because I couldn’t hear the band playing the song, I’d have to rate this rendition of Sample in a Jar lower than the Phred and Co version performed at the KXSC Jam Band Show this spring. Still, “Sample in a Jar” was a very enjoyable experience when this gentleman wasn’t yelling at the top of his lungs.

During the song, frontman and guitarist Trey Anastasio continued his demonstration of stringed mastery into a blazing and extended solo. This song was one of his best performances of the night, and the band seemed properly warmed up.

Another 20 minutes of guitar wizardry gave this guy ample time to stop yelling, just in time for the crown jewel of the night. Phish’s “You Enjoy Myself (Y.E.M.)” is a 10-minute long prog rock jam that constantly changes key, time signature, and genre (including the hardest funk breakdown of all time). In 10 minutes of music, the only lyrics are

“Boy…
Man…
God…
Shit…
Wash uffize drive me to firenze (x12)”

It’s one of my favorite songs of all time. Now, imagine this musical odyssey, except now Phish has added another 10-minute-long jam at the end where all the instrumental parts are instead done acapella by the band members. My jaw was glued to the floor, I couldn’t believe it. This was easily the highlight of night 1, and probably the most impressive musical display I’ve ever seen performed by a human being. I mean who even thinks of this shit? It was glorious.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I realized that Trey and Mikey were now doing a coordinated dance routine on 2 trampolines. The sensory overload was too much for my puny mind to handle. As a result, my remaining memories from the night are hazy and unclear. I think I cried during the encore.

DAY 2: THE TWO PHISHES

I woke up the next morning to find a deep chasm in my gut. It definitely had something to do with the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything since 4 pm the day before, but I felt like I was missing something greater. It was like I got abducted by aliens who showed me the stars and all their jacked-up alien technology, just to plop me back down in a cornfield. I was not yet one with the aliens, but I couldn’t relate to the normal people anymore either.
Luckily, I only had to endure this Phishless hell for a few hours before returning to the Hollywood Bowl. No later than 5 minutes after my friends and I returned to Top Phish, the band bestowed a blessed “David Bowie” upon us. This is another one of my favorite Phish songs that features fast-paced key changes, Frank-Zappa-esque composition, and gibberish lyrics like:

“David Bowie
David Bowie
David Bowie
David Bowie
UB-40
UB-40
UB-40
UB-40”

I think I’m starting to see a pattern here in their songwriting. Despite the unhinged lyrics, the musical ability of the band members was at its absolute peak. Drummer John Fishman (who claims his name has nothing to do with naming the band Phish) was the highlight of this set. Hearing him play “David Bowie” live brought thousands of blazing-fast ghost notes to life, with an absurdly syncopated drum pattern that I cannot begin to comprehend. After the first few minutes of these blistering drums, we were greeted with the prog section which switches time signatures often and at random. To put it simply it was nuts.

Following an epic 10-minute solo section the band seamlessly transitioned into the shortest song of the weekend, Esther. Esther details the journey of a young girl at a carnival who is pressured into the ownership of a demon-possessed doll by an Armenian shopkeeper. The knowledge of this demonic presence spreads across the town until a riot forms, and the doll promptly grants Esther the ability to fly away from the angry townspeople. After unwittingly landing in the bad part of town, another mob begins their pursuit of Esther. She jumps into a lake to escape, where the doll then grabs her ankle and drowns her until she dies.

I think the craziest part is that Phish manages to fit this whole story into a 5-minute song where the key is constantly changing. Imagine what they could do if their 20-minute songs had this type of storytelling going on. Actually, scratch that. It might be too much for the laws of reality to handle.

As the first set of night 2 came to a close we decided we needed a change of scenery. Top Phish had been our home until this point, but we needed to get closer to infiltrate the heart of the beast. We descended the mountain.

We settled somewhere near the middle of the Hollywood Bowl in an empty row just in time for the start of the second set. Phish came in with all guns blazing with the riotous uptempo jam of “Chalkdust Torture.” Immediately I was showered in a sea of glowsticks, something I didn’t experience at Top Phish considering we’d always be throwing them down the mountain instead of getting hit ourselves. I put a few of them in my hat, it was pretty goofy.

I also noticed a lot more smoke in Middle Phish, which was strange considering the fact that the people down here seemed so much more behaved. Definitely better vibes. This incredible new world was enhanced by the fact that Trey Anastasio’s guitar was blazing at a million miles an hour over “Chalkdust Torture,” one of the best solos of the weekend.

Other highlights from the second set include Also “Sprach Zarathustra op. 30,” because why not have classical music at a Phish concert? There was also an incredible rendition of “Run Like an Antelope” to end the night, which has become an increasingly rare addition to their sets recently.

I give this night 2 Phishes out of Phish.

DAY 3: THE FINAL PHISH

I began day 3 at Top Phish once again. As I soaked in the gorgeous view of the mountains and the crystal clear skies of the day, the band began. The first song, “Birds of a Feather,” was my favorite opener of the weekend. Drummer John Fishman continued to demonstrate his blistering chops on the drum-and-bass adjacent jam. Right out the gate, the band seemed warmed up, but when the second song began I knew we were in for something special.

“The Divided Sky” is a 15-minute-long epic that follows the tale of three covert individuals in their worship of the god Icculus. The song was devised as a part of the lore of Trey Anastasio’s senior thesis (The Man Who Stepped Into Yesterday), which follows the fictional land of Gamehendge and the tale of the lizards.
The lizards are oppressed in their subjugation by the evil King Wilson, who keeps them in check by preventing them from gaining access to the Helping Friendly Book, the sacred tome of their god Icculus. To worship Icculus they must secretly climb the Rhombus in the middle of a field to do their sacred chant:

“Divided sky
The wind blows high
Divided sky
The wind blows high”

The song features a prog rock section that interpolates “Mary Had A Little Lamb” over the banging of pots and pans, followed by one of the most beautiful and soaring guitar solos ever recorded.

15 minutes of shredding later and the band flawlessly transitions into a cover of “Cities” by the Talking Heads. At this point, the band was on fire, and Trey’s guitar tone morphed into something Hendrix-esque. The guitar was screaming in a blaze of phase shifting and wah pedal magic which didn’t let up until the first set ended.

This mid-set break at Top Phish proved to be another chaotic and uncomfortable experience, thanks to two particular gentlemen in my row. This dynamic duo was introduced to me by means of their incredibly loud conversation behind the bush, which went something like

Guy 1: “Man are you peeing right now”
Guy 2: “I got my dick in my hand”
Guy 1: “That’s freedom man”

Immediately after this, the dude who was peeing fell down two rows of benches, knocking multiple people over. He was so red he looked like he was about to explode, which might’ve had something to do with the big sack of mushrooms he then offered to my friend and me. We didn’t take the shrooms, but instead received an important sermon about the importance of releasing DMT in the brain to connect with your ancestors.

This conversation was meandering its way into a deep and slightly uncomfortable discussion about my dead grandmother when I realized the second set had started. I actually missed most of the set, but fortunately snapped back to reality in time for “Gotta Jibboo.” Another classic display of Phish songwriting where the only lyrics are the song’s title repeated a million times.

Many Jibboos later, the band dropped out into an ominous keyboard solo played by keyboardist Page McConnell. There was a strange, eerie feeling in the air, especially compared to the abundance of silly vibes during “Gotta Jibboo.” My brain was just beginning to dissect this mystic energy when I heard Page’s blessed voice booming through the crowd. When I realized they were covering “No Quarter,” I lost my absolute shit.
About 5 minutes into “No Quarter” that same gentleman to my left also lost his absolute shit, as evidenced by his second fall down multiple rows of benches. Thankfully his friend set him down in the bushes where he promptly fell asleep. Thank god I didn’t have to deal with that shit anymore. I enjoyed the last 20 minutes of the song in peace, finally able to appreciate the magic of Page’s virtuosic keyboard performance and booming vocals.

Eventually, the tempo began to speed up. The slow droning of “No Quarter” was beginning to morph into the uptempo blues jam, “Possum.” This song has been a staple of Phish’s live performances since the 90s. More importantly, it contains valuable lore of when the sky god Icculus drove down from his home atop the mountain and found a possum that someone hit with their car.

When Trey began the song’s iconic main riff the crowd was sent into a frenzy. The lights began blaring and dancing almost as maniacally as the fans and the party was on. There were notes of “Chalkdust Torture” in the band’s crazed shredding, but the fans were far more manic.

The end of such a fantastic set left me with high expectations for the encore. After a raging “Possum,” I knew it would be hard for the band to follow up, but Phish delivered.

As the first notes of the encore rang out, the entire crowd erupted into chants of “WILSOOOOOONNNNNN”. If you couldn’t guess this song is called “Wilson,” a hard rock jam describing the lore of King Wilson and his rise to power over the land of Gamehendge and the Lizard people. Truly a cult classic. After an electric performance, the band capped it off with another classic: “Slave to the Traffic Light.” A blissful 20-minute arrangement ended the weekend in a thunderstorm of various solos being played at once. This was easily my favorite encore of the weekend. It was like watching gods communicating with each other, writing down ancient tomes of lore and that kinda stuff.

Rating: Phish cubed

POST-PHISH: PHISH OUTTA WATER

Coming back to reality after a weekend like that is a real challenge. For one, the immediate exit of the Hollywood Bowl dumps you right onto the Walk of Fame. It’s there you realize that you’re still on all the drugs you took for Phish and now you have to get home. It doesn’t help that the Walk of Fame is already a bizarre hellscape when no Phish fans are present, and now that the hoard just left the concert you’re stuck watching all sorts of crazy scenes.

Try to imagine for a second that your brain feels like a fried egg, you just saw an 8-year-old do a whippet, and now you have to coordinate a way to get home. It’s a recipe for disaster. These tragic circumstances are compounded by the fact that there is no Phish to see the next day.

I think post-Phish depression should be considered a real psychological trauma. In my experience, the real world felt completely unfulfilling in the days following this weekend. All the little interesting things you experience on a day-to-day basis feel inconsequential compared to the batshit insane circus of a Phish concert. Adjusting to normal reality after living in cuckoo land for 3 days is a tall order. At least now I can understand why some of these people ditch real life to follow this goofy ass band around the country.

Despite the sometimes belligerent nature of the most dedicated Phish fans, the concert was an unforgettable experience. These 4 nerds are some of the most talented musicians in the world and are true masters of their craft. The dynamic between the band members compounds their nerdiness into a display that is sometimes tolerable but often mind-blowing. There is something of value for everyone from the new initiates to the wisest lore-masters of Gamehendge. Even if you’re afraid to dip your toes in the water of the vast sea of Phish, I recommend giving it a try. This is truly a spectacle that’s worth witnessing at least once in your life.

- Jackson Nehls

Recommended If You Like: The Grateful Dead, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Rush, Frank Zappa
Recommended Tracks: "You Enjoy Myself," "David Bowie," "The Divided Sky"
FCC: Clean

Addendum (The Phish Community: From the Journal)

Throughout the weekend, I asked Phish fans to draw, write, or express how they were feeling in any way they deemed fit. I collected these works and testimonies in my notebook, images of which are provided below. The second half of this collection is taken from my personal notes which I made over the course of the weekend. I hope these excerpts help you gain further insight into the thoughts and experiences of this vibrant community.

Notes From Phish

REVIEW: Phish 4/21/23-4/23/23