The Chicago Way
The Right Way
Well I finally got out of Chicago after two aborted attempts to leave the “Second City” following the most surreal weekend of Phish I’ve ever experienced. What started on Friday during perhaps the oddest set of circumstances is finally coming to a close. And with less than 72 hours back in New York City to take care of business, decompress, exercise, call my therapist, (and most importantly do some laundry) before hopping a flight to Seattle on Thursday evening, I’ve got to act fast.
To be perfectly honest. I destroyed Chicago. Me and my crew just ripped that town to shreds. We barely slept the whole weekend. Almost a complete reversal from our jaunt down to Atlanta which were on the whole, mellow evenings in the South, just as it should be.
Lessons from Tour? Each stop on tour has its own rhythms. Tap into those rhythms. Sure we partied and raged the post-shows; we just did so at the house we rented in the Atlanta suburbs. A very rich city indeed.
Never have I seen such manicured lawns, even at the strip malls, which dot the place like free range cancers. A stretch of road we came to know quite well was littered with fast-casual restaurants, big-box stores, banks, liquor stores, check-cashing storefronts, the very things I want to avoid on Phish tour. Not while I am getting my healing, not while I’m drinking from “the vessel that stank.” I felt ill even being close to the source of so much illness, so much obesity, so much over-consumption, so much cultural poverty. America surely is the prettiest Wasteland, probably why it is so effective at it, wasting itself that is. It’s potential.
Atlanta was mellow in the way I know the South to be from my years in New Orleans. We had a top tier crew of people join us from up North and had some big league bonding sessions go down. We laughed we cried we danced; we ate a shit ton of mushrooms and got super weird. It was so relaxing and mellow. Earth sacraments are good, but should be eaten almost constantly and for extended periods of time. Also, it rained. Again. And I went running. On mushrooms. 6 miles or so.
And then, Chicago. Saying goodbye to friends who we had been with since Bangor was bittersweet. We’ll see everyone again at Dick’s but with people this incredible, who make not only the shows themselves better but also everything around them (heck, even breakfast rocked!) who wants to say goodbye!? Not us. Still, kisses, hugs, and boom, Chicago.
New venue, untested, but Phish really set up a great weekend with two strong shows in Atlanta. We checked into a very cool loft in Pilsen, quickly gentrifying neighborhood or so they say. No artisanal coffee joints yet. Call me when Intelligentsia opens a location nearby. We almost got stabbed a few times. Though, considering the litany of substances we gobbled, I’d have felt bad for anyone who tried to rob us.
Summer tour was starting to take shape. “Energy” in Atlanta got a big time dose of electricity. Trey even pulled the “Piper” jam from later that set directly into an “Energy” refrain before piling on power rock chords, transmogrifying into The Who before our very eyes. The music is certainly alive with possibility and opportunity and synchronicity. And I couldn’t help shaking the feeling that yes this was the Summer I’ve been waiting for. Years ago, my friend Andy Greenberg showed me the importance of listening to, being aware or, and promoting the “synchronicities” and coincidences that we find. Andy showed me how to watch out for them, how to discern and translate them, how to let their lessons and hints, their allusions, stream through the rest of my life. It’s one of the things I am grateful for most, and a central reason why Andy and I decided to gift this Summer experience to ourselves. And to do it together of course. For two straight men, we spend a lot of time hugging at shows. Every new jam, every moment of brilliance. I elbow him in the ribs. We shake hands. We hug, we high-five. It’s special for men to be intimate the way he and I are.
What I’ve learned since then is that we are integral to this process. We have to be open to the synchronicities. We have to imbue our lives with a magical quality, with irrationality, with an understanding that there is more to life than just what we can see. We have to will them to be the lives we want, not the ones we are given. And when we do so we find that the electricity, the waves of matter that connect all things, find us more often, funneling more and more opportunities to connect the disparate strands of life together. Everything happens for a reason.
For years I’ve been slowly piecing this together for myself. It’s almost unbelievable then to realize that the Apples in Stereo song “Energy” seems primed to become Phish’s song of the Summer. It’s a quintessentially Phishy song, with an open ended jam launchpad at the end, perfect for extended explorations much like “Golden Age, Light, Tweezer and Down with Disease.” With its lyrics of “electricity, energy, synchronicity, possibility,” it falls squarely into Phish’s universe. I am so happy to see the band make it so formally their own. It’s my favorite song to hear live right now. I’ve caught every version they’ve played and since I am not scheduled to miss another show this year, I’m likely to see every version played.
Cue a monster of a storm passing directly over Lake Michigan on Friday night. Just as the band was developing a beautiful moment in “Down with Disease,” the lights come on. At this point I am completely discombobulated. And I was pretty sure that despite the psilocybin coursing through my body something was happening. When Page stood up from his keyboards and walked over to Trey, who was blindly strumming the opening chords to “Prince Caspian” out into the crowd, I thought the worst. What the fuck was Page doing? Sit down you bald fucker. What the hell is going on? Don’t interrupt Trey! Was he about to quit? Was he pissed at Trey for playing “Fuckerpants” (“Prince Caspian’s perjorative?)
I was completely thrown for a loop, not necessarily scared just confused, and yet, if there is ever a place to be confused, Phish shows are the place, considering that nearly everyone at their concerts is kind and sweet, caring with help (in the form of a cigarette, a sip of water, a freshly packed bowl) only ever a tap on the shoulder away. I truly believe that if I ever had a big problem at a show I could basically ask anyone and they would interupt their own experience to help me.
People have been handing me drugs all year. I just must look like the guy you want to give drugs too. Don’t stop. And don’t hesitate to ask either. Everything I have is yours. If you want something, ask for it, especially if you feel it is going to get you where you need or want to be for Phish. They live off our energy so I try to do my part in getting as many people as possible to that place, their place. Quick aside: I am not a dealer so please,be reasonable.
But back to Friday’s storm. Considering how bizarre the whole scene was—the crowd literally watched the giant storm making its way South-West across Lake Michigan all evening long—it was almost a semi-relief to be told we had to evacuate. Almost. We milled around as long as we could until it became apparent that a serious energy event was about to rip across this tiny, isolated and completely shelter-free island; Then we booked it. And like really booked it. Sprinting up grassy knolls.
Arriving at a tunnel underneath one of the giant walkways leading to the venue, a typically Phishy scene unravelled, with soaked and dazed fans gathering, hooting, hollering and generally making the best of the situation. (Read: swallowing all the drugs they had. Cracking open beers, sharing food)
Phish fans are the best crowd of people to be around in these times. We gobbled our stashes, stopped in at the Palmer House (GORGEOUS!) to get jazzed up for Dopapod at the Hard Rock Cafe. Tripping in high-end hotels is highly recommended on tour btw. Sometimes you find candelabra’s such as these and they just mesmerize you.
And hotels are also likely to have long hallways to give you that Kubrickian eerieness. Forever and ever and ever, Danny.
Bizarre night, a lot of energy had built up, with little opportunities to discharge. We danced, spent time with some new friends (a theme of the weekend), and drank ourselves down. Caught some rest around 6am. Some.
Saturday Phish played 3 sets. But they really only played one set. I was disappointed. And the community was starting to tear itself apart. Badly. Online and off people were pissed all day. One asshole in particular ruined a lot of people’s days with his sickness and depression, his egomania and his narcissism. Thankfully I am so keyed into the community that I can spot this stuff a mile away. Some seriously damaged people in the Phish world. And of course they are the very ones who won’t give themselves the antidote, that is,see more Phish.
The show itself was great, but after what we had endured on Friday, an actual evacuation and cancellation, I expected more from the band. I’ve got to watch my sense of entitlement here, but fuck it, I’ve put a ton of work into Phish, into this band, into supporting and nurturing and healing this community so we could all have a great Summer. I saw that opportunity, Andy did too, and we stepped right into it with Please Me Have No Regrets. It’s been the greatest creative project I’ve ever been a part of.
What I expected on Saturday though…actually happened on Sunday, along with a hit and a half of just incredibly amazing LSD. Unless you were there, you are unlikely going to grasp the importance of Sunday’s show. We got rained on. Again. Phish has played this entire Summer tour underwater at this point. Return from whence they came. At least this time I had a poncho…
And though not quite as bad as the torrential storm we endured at Jones Beach just a little more than a week before, this was bad bad weather. Many left. Who can blame them?
But many more stayed and as always, they were rewarded. It was nice to actually have extra time to float around, enjoying the venue, reveling amid my people, seeing friends at every corner of the venue, running into “STRANGERS FROM THE INTERNET” unexpectedly. As long as the show wasn’t getting canceled, I was all good and tripping wonderfully.
And for those concerned only with the music, Sunday might not be enough. Other critics I respect have said as much. I understand why. But Sunday is the show I’ve been waiting for. I have NEVER seen Trey so relaxed. I have NEVER heard him so locked in. Not at Dick’s, not at NYE 12. Not at SPAC this year or last. Nope. Not even close. In a just-released Rolling Stone interview, Trey cited the present as one of the band’s peak moments. And though some of that could be construed as fluffing and showmanship, I believe him wholeheartedly.
Wearing a Page McConnell t-shirt during the marvelously played 1st set before switching into what is clearly his new “battle armor,” the “Phearless” shirt, Trey was at peace. I personally need to see my hero in that state to reach the levels of transcendence I both desire and require. This is my church. This is my synagogue. This is why I am here. This is why I come back. It is not only for the music.
I am here for the magic. I am here for the spiritual healing. I am here to fill my psychic gas tank, all the way to the brim. And to keep it filled all Summer and Fall. My life is changing and is going to keep changing in radical and drastic ways and I need need need to get what I can right now to sustain me for the long road ahead.
But I feel the music speaks for itself. “Energy > Ghost > Lizards” is as stunning a suite of music as any of the other incredible segues Phish has produced this year. We’ll have analysis up on PMHNR in the next few days. In the meantime, @thebabysmouth will get you there.
But if you don’t know, then “Harpua” is easily one of the rarest and most mythologically important Phish songs. Rarely played, Phish used this “Harpua” to up the ante on their interest in theatrics. From their setlist gimmicks, New Year’s Eve gags and other assorted theatrical elements, Phish is honing their instincts for theatricality. What has always been an essential part of their performance, and their history, is now morphing into something else entirely. Having just experienced a taste of Broadway with “Hands on a Hardbody,” I fully expect Trey, and by extension, Phish, to continue this trajectory towards theatricality. Could we see a Broadway production of Gamehendge? A Phish movie? Something special at Dick’s or MSG again later this year?
So Phish quickly planned a prank with the current cast of the world renowned Second City Theater. Improv meets improv. And though the Second City crew kind of blew the gag,it didn’t really matter. It was awesome to see Trey running all over the stage, smiling with his whole body and soul (hey thanks again LSD!), bringing what we thought we’re ordinary fans on-stage to celebrate with him. It didn’t matter that the gag ran on a bit too long. It’s fucking Harpua people. And we even got a Mike Gordon narration: “I thought it was Odd.”
And just like that,a Summer of incredible fun and serious musical improv but lacked for romance, mystery and magic got a B12 injection of the highest order. Talk about a “net energy gain!”
Well, we took all that energy and we burned Chicago to the ground. A quick stop home to change into dry warm clothes. Brush of the teeth,gobble this and that and off to dance the night away at Kung Fu. There are some nights that after shows you want to go relax, drink a few beers, smoke a joint and chill. And then there was Sunday night which had our entire crew champing at the bit.
It turned into one of those crazy nights where everyone you meet fits some important role. We made new friends everywhere. We arranged dates for the West Coast. We made love and we did drugs. We closed down the Tonic Room and with some new friends and a psychotic look in our eyes, moved the party over to the Kingston Mines, the very place Mike Gordon (Phish’s bass player) had referenced in his epic narration. Synchronicity ya know?
There, we saw the fire and brimstone, the genius of the Chicago blues in all its glory. We knelt at the alter and prayed. We supped from its kindly cup. We drank the night away.Then we had burritos and went to the airport. Andy went home. I went back to Chicago for a quiet night in a giant hotel room. I should have jacked off but didn’t have the energy. I ate a grilled chicken salad and slept 10 hours.
We did Chicago. “The Right Way.”
Quick thanks to the kind soul who gave me the LSD. An important drug that one should never have to buy, it was an amazing gift and got me exactly where I wanted and needed to be. Will never forget that evening. Thank you, you know who you are.
And to @LanguageStrange for allowing me to use his stunning concert photography this Summer. Do me a favor and go and like his Facebook page to show support.
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