Random Phish Show Review: 5/10/1991 Page Commons Room, Colby College — Waterville, ME
Phish are nerds. They thrive off of pedantic rituals allowing the audience to bask in the weirdness, with a fast-paced jam, a bluegrass skedaddle, even a composition. In 91 they inexorably drive to find more weirdness, and bring these ideas to their show. And when I mean weird, I don’t mean Devo or something with a provocation of awkwardness, but a dissidence that pushes common folk away, and embraces the outcasts with open arms.
There’s nothing special about this particular show, located on the Page Common Grounds, an enclave on the outskirts of Waterville. The only historically significant thing about this show is it’s the show before their final shows at the Front, their last Vermont headquarters. From there, they would venture all over the United States (they have already started this year, breaking into California, and working their way back in various parts in the North and Midwest.) For this particular show, they systematically pealed through their regular repertoire. No fanciful experimentation, no explicit eccentricity, just good solid 91 Phish.
The question that arose while I listened to this show is “Does Phish know what they’re doing,” in terms of creativity. As far as creating art is concerned, the theory that artists that create are not aware that they are creating something beautiful, they’re the creators, or according to Barthelme: “The answer that the painter knows how to make something that is beautiful is not allowable.” This exploration into the art of Phish tends to resonate within the receiver of the art, that we meld the music with the pedantic rituals and call it art, while Phish are just creating and letting time and synchronicity venture forward. Barthelme feels that: “The artist knows of the exploration of the qualitative relational possibilities of color, shape, and all of the things that can be constructed with them.” I feel that Phish, especially during this show, have this sophistry.
William Gass posits that: “Artists should abandon truth as an ideal as artist. Mathematicians aren’t interested in truth; they’re interested in formal coherence. That’s the way poets work, I think.” Phish falls under this guise, the mathematical poet: codifying their own formulas, and recursively magnifying them. In order for 93 to even be possible, you need the mathematical precision of these years. Sure, they’re creating, but through structure and syntax. The reflexive nature of these shows, particularly this one, rids of the “forced beauty” that came later, and exhorted on their heterogeneous mantra.
Take the opener, Bowie. This is standard Phish. No off-the-cuff ripping jams, no experimentation. It was like they took this version and put it on the album. That doesn’t mean its bad; it just means mathematical precision is in tact. The subsequent choices are of this same ilk, standard, flawless tunes — Cavern, a new tune to the repertoire, a dancehall Yamar, the proggy Dinner and a Movie all standard. This is the show to introduce your college buddy to a new band. Tired of Def Leppard? Is your Color Me Badd tape worn out? Come check out this really weird band from Vermont, they’re all over the place, but with purpose.
After the Sloth and an eclectic Landlady, the first set finally has some sonic dissidence with Bathtub Gin. Trey fuses long, crescendoed swills while the band keeps it in four time. Nothing out of the box, yet something more fungible with your typical Lawn Boy syncopated jams.
Picking up speed we go to Buried Alive, a tune they’ve been trying to incorporate into the set, yet hasn’t found its niche yet — we all enjoy a Buried Alive opener now, especially 3.0. Close out the set with some Gamehendge tunes, and we have ourselves a pretty pristine first set.
There’s a story from backinmyday.net where someone ran into Trey in the bathroom. He recollects telling Trey that he should put Chalkdust Torture teases in McGrupp (the story is that, while this person was spun, he remembered hearing some remnant of this combo, and had the need to share.) Trey thought about it for a minute, then left the restroom. We can take these folktales with a grain of salt, but the parallel is that Trey does start to implement teases, secret language, and “game changers” into second sets. There’s only a instant of that here, and I’m assuming these secret language inceptions are happening during this time period. I remember 1990 where they really focused on elaborating on Secret Language (see Wetlands 1990) and I feel that once that developed, the emergence of working jam structures, ie song teases, melody augmentations, etc, to blossom.
Before we get to that we have a gorgeous Harry Hood, elegant in its meanderings (this followed Golgi.) Then some more diversity (Gamehendge-Wilson, New Tune-Poor Heart, well, fairly new — it was the 5th time played, so don’t fret it being in the 2nd set, and Junta-Foam) where we arrive at McGrupp. Although CDT was not “teased” you’ll hear the sinuous transition from song to song. Not to many people wonder how they came about these transitions, but they are just as important as the songs themselves (they really concentrated on song exchanges in 97 wielding unblemished transitions.) This could’ve been an appeasement for the fan, and we reap the benefits.
Fish comes out for Love You, and then we close the set on Mike’s Groove. A plethora of minor chords extending the Mike’s part, but nothing too fancy (What? An Umphrey’s reference in a Phish review? BLASPHEMER!!!) H20>Weekapaug standard — high energy to close the set.
E: A Train>Highway to Hell. Nice Jazz standards are still lingering in 91. Will have to do some research on when they faded. I do know that nascent Jazz standards are occurring since they are preparing to take the Giant Country Horns on tour with them in a couple months.
Phish in 91 was nerdy, because they relied heavily on their library, and their audience. You have to be a nerd to care about Phish, plain and simple. They are creating art, but are using their medium to push the boundaries of their audience expectations. They still have a long way to go.
Assface: 1991 Promo photo
