FU Ego
A Review of Phish’s Fuego
There and Back Again
I must make a confession — I like Phish albums, a lot. The first Phish song I ever heard was the studio version of “Sparkle.” The first tape I ever got was Junta. I bought Hoist, Billy Breathes, and The Story of the Ghost the day they were released and listened to them each and every day for years. While I understand people who dismiss Phish’s studio efforts as inferior to the live shows I also vehemently disagree with them.
As a fan who cut my teeth listening to studio albums quite some time before I had access to bootlegs—I lived in the South and was 13 years old—I can tell you that when I first heard a bootleg, I was disappointed. I craved the sonic clarity and precision of play from the album. The only part of Phish’s live show that felt as lofty as the studio efforts to me at that point was when Trey was shredding (and at my first show in 95 I didn’t think he was shredding enough). I clearly remember hearing “Split Open and Melt” (sans horns) for the first time on a bootleg tape after listening to the studio cut hundreds of times. I thought to myself “what is this thin and sloppy crap?” “They really wrote a check they couldn’t cash here” I also had this feeling listening to many other songs that I now love to hear live. As a side note — “Split Open and Melt” is one of my favorite songs to hear live and I haven’t listened to the studio version in years.
We all know that loving a band as much as we love Phish is not without it’s share of personal pitfalls, mostly derived from our own insecurities. I think that as an outsider coming in we see Phish as it is — as “their” band. We get behind the decisions that the band makes more readily because we don’t yet erroneously consider it “our” band. After falling in love with Hoist in 1994 I finally was old enough for my parents to let me go to a show — as a 14 year old I stepped into North Charleston Coliseum to see my favorite band for the first time and as they opened with the classic “Dinner and a Movie” my jaw dropped to the ground and tears welled up in my eyes; they remained awash. I could hardly breathe I was so pleasantly overwhelmed. I couldn’t move or speak, let alone think, for the duration of the show. Nothing I had heard on recordings could prepare me for this experience. It’s like seeing a picture of beautiful woman and then seeing her in person. A thousand snapshots could not get you an accurate depiction of such radiance and with the access to alter visual angles and the motion of the subject you are rewarded with a nearly infinite number of vantages.
Now apply this analogy to the richly constructed ever evolving musical tapestry that is Phish. If a picture is worth a thousand words, how much is the real thing worth?
I heard “Free” for the first time at my first show and instantly fell in love with it. The geometry and eloquence of the head riff spoke to my soul in a way that very few rock riffs had before it. By the time Billy Breathes came out when I was a sophomore in high school I was so excited to hear what they had done with “my” beloved “Free” that I tore off the plastic and listened to it about 20 times in row before moving on to “Character Zero.” The new bridge section that they had added to “Free’s” studio rendering, complete with juicy Gordon bass solo and new changes gave me chills on an order of magnitude of the studio “Divided Sky” outro solo, and the solos from “Maze,” and “Sample in a Jar.”
I listened over and over to see if the knowledge of what was coming in the song would diminish it’s resonance with my soul. It never did. This was pure sonic magic on the level of The Beatles. Needless to say — I love Billy Breathes as I loved all the albums before it. If I had to pick, “Lawn Boy” was my least favorite album at that point. I was old enough to drive then and I started going to every Phish show I could possibly attend. I began to immerse myself in the live show.
I had a huge collection of tapes and a few sources in town with new tapes coming every month or so. I also traded with people via mail. This was the time when I began to erroneously see Phish as “my” band. I suppose I felt I had put so much of my own time and effort into Phish that I had “earned” a stake and perhaps even a vote in the band’s musical future.
My freshman year of college Phish dropped The Story of the Ghost. I had just gone through a heart-wrenching break-up, I was halfway across the country away from friends and family, and upon first listen this album did NOT sound like “my” Phish. I had seen many of these songs played live at this point and comparatively the album versions felt to me like some cheesy mainstream commercial for this band that I loved. Simply put, I felt like they were trying to be something they weren’t and I didn’t like it.
Here’s the kicker though: I now realize that a true artist must constantly change, however, he/she must strive to still be true to his/herself by creating a product whose creation is pleasing to them. Thus EVERY Phish album that I had fallen in love with would have felt like Phish was trying to be something they weren’t were I so invested in the band at the time of that album’s drop. I remembered many community members commenting that Hoist and Billy Breathes felt “too mainstream” — like Phish was trying too hard to be accepted by the masses. For the first time (with Story of the Ghost) I understood what they meant. I was convinced that the absolute best thing in the world had been corrupted by money — by the faulty capitalist machine. After a quick walk I decided I was being far too egotistical with the way I was listening to the album. “Phish are artists and my heroes, who am I to judge their painstaking efforts on one listen in one mindset?”
So I cleared my mind and sat again at my college desk and put on my headphones. I closed my eyes and listened again from start to finish restraining my thoughts and trying to listen as an outsider again — as I had with all the albums before — and I absolutely loved the album. It was then that I realized that it wasn’t Phish who erred — it was I who erred. This was PHISH’S album — not “my” album! Why was I judging it like it was my own? Was I now one of those jaded vets who I felt so confused by originally?
I went to Big Cypress and like many others had an absolutely life-changing religious experience. On 12/31/1999 I rode the rail after waiting 8 hours straight like a Zen Monk with no bathroom breaks or refreshments and even appeared on the Dan Rather ABC clip in the crowd shot. I hated “Heavy Things” and it’s cheesy, pseudo-ironic, self-reflexive, banality, and although I danced along as much as the next guy I was celebrating the event and the band but not the song.
When Farmhouse came out I went through a similar process as I did with The Story of the Ghost in college but upon second listen I did not love it. In fact I was becoming fairly certain that Phish was headed downhill. I sensed less sincerity, artistry, and group chemistry from the band than I had felt previously and when Phish took their first hiatus I walked away — disappointed that one of the things I loved most in the world had decayed and become insolvent. In fact I lost faith in the scene, I lost faith in live music. I started going to rave’s and viewed those still in the jamband scene as posers and late-for-the-party crashers. I felt that era of my life had ended — the Phish years. I had become disgusted with the world and time in it’s role as an artistic ruiner. In my own music writing I tried to steer as far away from Phish’s influence as possible, yet they felt like that tiny puppet tugging at Esther’s toe as I always heard from my listeners “that reminds me of Phish” It even got to the point where I was writing 80’s styled music in an attempt to return to my pre-Phish artistic leanings.
Flash forward to 2009 — Phish was a distant memory and through the grapevine I heard they were playing again — I got some friends together and drove to Knoxville and attended the show. It just didn’t feel the same, I didn’t feel connected, I refused to listen to Round Room or Joy. When Phish played new songs I didn’t know I didn’t even give them a chance. From my perspective the band simply felt disconnected and cold. They seemed a shell of their former selves (or maybe it was me?) — wrecked by the tides of drugs, money, egos, and desire for acceptance. What was this “Ocelot” shit? “Undermind”, “Waves”, “ASIHTOS”, “Army of One” — to be honest, when these songs were played I stopped listening and I started to be a jaded vet. For the record — I now love all of those the songs.
Finally in 2010 Phish returned to the venue of my first show in 1995 for the first time in 14 years, and it was a two night Friday/Saturday run. I had just recently connected with a bunch of college kids and musicians (3.0 kids) who loved Phish and their enthusiasm for the new material and fanaticism in general inspired me to give it another chance. It seemed Phish was rolling out the red carpet for me, and deep down inside I really wanted to reconnect with them — I wanted to feel that feeling again that I had long forgot — I wanted to see if I was even capable of having that child-like awe and devotion to a band that I experienced a teenager.
As Phish so loves to do to me they came right out and “Punched Me in the Eye” (one of my favorite songs to hear live and also the one I have heard live the most) I knew right from the first set “Bathtub Gin” and “Stash” that things had changed. The connection was back between them and subsequently between them and me. Those tears welled up inside me like that idealistic and innocent 14 year old boy, speechless, floating in a sea of emotions that could only be released by pure musical sorcery. I felt the feeling I forgot. Anything was possible. The world was once again transformed for me, by Phish, to a Xanthian paradise. Where every intention and effort was a force of nature to be reckoned with. I was free. I could make a difference again. Yes, it was still “their” band but I wanted them back in my life. When they played “Suzy Greenberg > Slave to the Traffic Light” to close the second set, the deal was sealed. I was in love again. I don’t think a took a single breath during “Slave” — I was so happy I couldn’t even breathe.
After the show I rushed downtown and walked into my favorite bar on King Street in Charleston, where Mike Gordon was standing as if to greet me. Seeing that no-one else recognized him and he was just standing there I walked right up to him and struck up a conversation. I told him how happy I was with the show and he looked me in the eye and asked me very sincerely “Oh really, what did you like?” I shared my thoughts with him as I might a fellow fan and he looked up and to the side as if to make a mental record of my impressions.
Since then I have run into Mike more times than I can count; in 3.0 he has seemingly served as a steward to bring me and many of us back into the fold and even more fitting as it was his playing at those fateful 2010 shows that most inspired my hopes for the future of Phish.
After the second show—which blew me away even more than the first and featured my beloved “the Curtain (With)—with tears in my eyes the first thing I did was call my old friend and ex-fan Zac Cohen who I had fallen out of touch with, and delivered THE MESSAGE, “they’re back, whatever you do — you’ve got to go see them.”
On the Road
In 2013 after starting Please Me Have No Regrets and @thebabysmouth, Zac and I decided to go on tour together and fully immerse ourselves in the world, culture and community surrounding Phish, something we had always wanted to do in the 90’s but never had the chance (or perhaps the money). From Bangor, ME to Atlantic City, NJ we both had countless revelations and learned more about ourselves and each other than perhaps we ever had.
By the time we got to Atlantic City for Halloween we had both fallen head-over-heels in-love with this newest incarnation of our favorite band. I, for one, was VERY excited to hear that Phish would be playing a set of new originals for Halloween. As much as I love hearing Phish play anything,I first and fundamentally was attracted to Phish’s writing and artistic development. Without that component they never would have held my attention so.
When the opening chords of “Wingsuit” began I felt that feeling again — I was that 14 year old boy, hearing “Free” for the first time committing every chord, word, and nuance of the song into a permanent sear on my being. My tears welled up as intensely as the outro section of “Wingsuit” began to kiss my ears for the first time. Page’s static riff repeated over the ascending changes from Mike and Trey acted as a spiritual fire, melting every bit of ice left over in my eternal soul from it’s timeless voyage through time and space. I had finally come full circle — I was a child again. A blissful outsider.
By hiding that material and surprising us in the fashion that they did Phish reminded us that we are all outsiders looking in. They are the only insiders and vets — and with this new material they revealed that they were in fact not jaded at all but were sincere and committed to moving forward and finding their modern compositional voice to complement the modern sound they had worked so diligently to develop in 3.0. This was an honest and vulnerable live experience and resonated greatly with me although it was a bit jarring as I’m sure it was for them as well.
Fuego
In listening to the album Fuego for the first time, I experience the songs as well as listening for the changes that made on the album. This is a different experience for me with Phish. I am used to hearing the songs live for some time before the album versions — with these I have heard them live once (some twice) but they are still in such infancy there was no chance for me unfavorably compare them with live versions as I did with “Ghost, The Moma Dance,” et al. I think this feels a more natural way to be introduced to material and it is in fact the way I was originally introduced to Phish as I said earlier — album first, live later.
The song “Fuego” is not all that different from what I have heard live other than subtle additions to the form. Certainly the sound quality is better and parts are more precise than the live version. I feel that musically this song perfectly explains where Phish is. It connects their prog-rock self-indulgent roots with their new found penchant for modern hooks. I can’t but help always think of the Theme from “Rawhide” with the “Rollin’ Rollin’ Rollin’” section which seems perfect for attracting a new generation of fans. In short — it seems a gateway song but also far more genuinely Phishy than previous gateway offerings which I applaud.
“The Line” starts out with a very sparse Story of the Ghost vibe yet with a much more contemporary and poppy vocal style. The composition and recording are both very strong. I have to admit I was opposed to the backing vocals on this chorus when I heard it in Atlantic City but at this point they don’t really bother me much. I think what bothered me at first was I was worried they were a bit insincere but that’s really not fair of me. Who am I to gauge their sincerity here? I guess it just reminds me of something I would expect to hear during the closing credits of Dawson’s Creek which I generally find over-dramatic to the point of being emotional slop. Don’t get me wrong though — this is a good song — just my least favorite at this point. I am humble enough to know that it could be my favorite by New Years and if it is, I will readily admit it. You see, I trust Phish at this point in our relationship together. They have proven me wrong before when I thought too much with my ego and clouded my judgement and I know they will again. They are simply ahead of me and all of us as the ultimate insiders. Don’t worry though — I will catch up, but then they will have forged even further ahead at that point. Count on it.
“Devotion to a Dream” is a song that I instinctively want to dismiss as cheesy but you know what? I love it! Both the lyrical message and music sound like a modern version of Simon and Garfunkle with a splash of—dare I say—John Cougar Mellencamp, particularly in its orchestration. Trey’s vocals sound more natural, relaxed, and humble than previous studio efforts. This song is catchy and to the extent that I could actually hear this getting some mainstream radio play in an ideal world.
So far the album is a bit less surreal than previous studio efforts with the exception of Farmhouse. A bit more mundane with the exception of “Fuego’s” proggy intro and solo section.
“Halfway to the Moon” finally evokes some of the mystical elements that I love in classic Phish. Any rock fan could appreciate this song and Page’s voice sounds the best that I have heard it on a Phish studio album. He sounds mature, organic, unabashed, and perfectly defined. The mixing of this track and recording quality is remarkably clear. The vocal harmonies sound incredibly lush and as pitch-perfect as any I’ve ever heard on a Phish album.
“Winterqueen” again showcases Trey’s now-far-more-accessible voice. He sounds like a Broadway actor with perfect singing technique as opposed to his formerly more “nerdy/pretentious” style that repelled many listeners away from Phish. This song again showcases more comfort than I have ever heard from Phish in the studio and in their own skin. Being a Trey-penned song, in the flow of the album it comes as a bit of an aside to the listener, albeit an extremely polished and highly figured aside — in stark contrast with the more stripped down orchestration we saw in the aside of “Swept Away” from Billy Breathes.
“Sing Monica” has that classic I-VII chord change that the Beatles so commonly utilized but is even simpler — this song only has two chords from start to bridge, very rare for a Phish song. The solo section/outro of this song recall the outros to both “The Line” and “Devotion to a Dream” which bestow continuity to the record but “The Line” contains my favorite of all those outros due to the refreshingly sparkling backing vocals. This song could have easily been the B side to “New Age Girl” by Dead Eye Dick or some forgotten one-hit wonder. This is a good thing — because this is Phish.
At this point in the album it is clear that Phish will use this album as a stepping stone to their next level as a band. They have have taken very simplistic musical elements and superimposed them in a highly accessible yet somehow more sophisticated and innovative way. This reminds me of Radiohead’s artistic agenda.
It is logical that this would happen being that they borrowed ideas from excerpts of spontaneous composition from their own shows. It is these moments in Phish shows that are their sweetest fruiting. Those chance moments where no one (including the band) really knows what’s going on. The music plays the band. These breakthroughs are capable of driving all music into a higher paradigm than previously realized.
It is as if Phish spent thirty years learning complex music so that they could then spit out very simple music with a high level of sophistication. This is no small feat — it is most definitely harder than writing complex brain bending math exercises. Perhaps this is the result of that mind bending. It’s always been odd to me how Phish seems to have a harder time playing “easy” music than “difficult” music. Then it stands to reason that now they are perfecting “easy” music that their ship has finally arrived at the shore of the masses.
On “555” Gordon’s voice is notably hotter in the mix as influenced by his new found vocal confidence, clearly the result of much practice and instruction. Thematically “555” is all about escape and change as is it’s numerological counterpart. This Mike-penned track serves as a reminder of Phish’s constant musical urge to “get up” and “jump out”—with this “Little Feat” tinged song they have come completely out of the box of anything we’ve ever heard on a Phish album. Ezrin’s production is exceedingly evident on this track which perhaps has the most production of all the tracks.
The nostalgically somber “Waiting All Night” is one part do-wop, one part beach music, one part “Esther” and the rest perfectly defined undiluted modern Phish. When I first heard this song in AC I instantly liked it and committed it to memory. I like to wonder how Phish would sound today were this song on Junta. Sonically “Waiting All Night” is ethereal and pristine to the point that it is shiny. Trey’s vocals are timeless on this song. Perhaps his first truly timeless vocal in the conventional sense. This song succeeds overwhelming at being both totally original — and totally recognizable to someone who has never heard it — an instant classic. These two attributes seem to be Phish’s goal on this album. When I first heard the Beatles records I felt certain that I had heard these songs before. This quality in songwriting showcases a VERY direct connection with the collective unconsciousness. It is only a true master who can pull off this artistic dichotomy. This song may be the most convincing piece of evidence that Phish—as a group—has finally mastered songwriting. That is not to say that this is my favorite song but it makes perfect sense to me that this would be the single off this album. It will appeal to the masses in a profound, individualized, and touching way — not just superficially. This to me indicates that Phish may finally see the mainstream recognition that it has evaded, though fully deserved. “Waiting All Night” and “Fuego” at large very well may represent the key that unlocks the great and ridiculously imposing door that is the barrier to entry into mainstream consciousness.
“Wombat”: Historically Phish has used ballads and short composed songs to “cleanse the musical palate” on both albums and live settings. “Wombat” and it’s placement serve an analogous function in an inverse manner. Sandwiched in between two ballads “Wombat” acts as a foil to restore the listener to a more contrasting segment in order to enhance the impact of “Wingsuit” which follows it. The musical gist of “Wombat” seems as if it was derived from a “Tube” jam in the same way that the middle jam section of “Fuego” might have been lifted from a “Birds of a Feather” jam. Speaking of fungibility, both of these songs are easy gateways to their ancestral grooves. Think “Tube -> Wombat -> Tube or Fuego -> Birds of a Feather -> Fuego.”
With this gesture Phish is indicating life and exploration remain for them in these distinct stylistic movements. Perhaps a line in “Wingsuit” alludes to this: “What’s new is old.” Based on the manner in which many of these songs were created (elements of past Phish jams collaged into new material) I would guess if that line wasn’t intentionally crafted to have that meaning — subconsciously it must have some resonance for them. I can’t help but think that Phish is referring to their own fanbase with the properties of the wombat — “herbivorous” “crepuscular” night owls in the same ways that “Birds of a Feather” was an exploration of observations of subtly ironic behaviors of fans.
“Wingsuit” brings us back to the start of that legendary night in Atlantic City as perhaps this entire album brings us full circle to Junta which could be construed in composition as a polar opposite of Fuego. As opposed to the predominantly Trey-crafted painstakingly intricate notated compositions of Junta, Fuego features uber-collaborative and nearly spontaneously rendered works. “What’s old is gone.”
This chapter of Phish began with these two chords — with this relaxed elegant riff traced from “Three Little Birds” from Page — which Trey mirrors with the words “Steal away” — “let’s steal a car” — Trey beacons us to the train of thought that Phish is employing. There is no stealing when everything is free — when there are no intellectual property boundaries. In fact with the majority of this album they are in essence — stealing these songs from themselves — stealing them from the tightly guarded vault of the collective mind. “Cause it feels good” — Why question artistic decisions? Shoot from the hip. This seems to be Phish’s new compositional ethos. It’s all about the process. If it feels good — do it! “and gliding away, you fly where you choose, there’s nothing to say and nothing to lose” this what Phish has done with this album. They put their collective artistic wingsuit on with not only the way this album was debuted in raw form in AC, but with the way they composed it, from start to it’s finish here on the disc. This is their mantra.
“You’ll never win a major only shooting par.” Flash back to New Years 2012's Golf Theme. With previous albums they established par on the golf course that is the musical terrain of Phish. This album is an attempt from Phish to “Fly Like an Eagle” or perhaps even “Hey-hole” out. As their experience with this material comes to a close and simultaneously opens to the live stage they have indeed won a major. They have successfully traversed the full spectrum of their creative possibilities as a unit. From Junta to Fuego and at last “Wingsuit” they have done a complete 180 yet at the same time come full circle. They are once again fully cohesive, just as they were at the start of this most noble of ventures; but this time it’s a group vision. This is a Phish that is once again taking the riskier shots in their writing in order to succeed. This is a level of comfort that it’s taken them 30 years to achieve. And you can hear it loud and clear in the closing segment of “Wingsuit”.
As the “Time to Put Your Wingsuit On” melody line loops on the piano the bass note ascends changing the modal perspective of the listener. This is pop musical mastery and sophistication on a level that we have never seen from Phish. It is perhaps one of the most emotive closing statements of any album I can think of save “Eclipse” which closes the Dark Side of the Moon. Trey annihilates the section with his most searing studio tone and playing to date. And I close my Fuego experience with over ripened tears in my eyes just as I began my first concert experience with them. Phish have always been master craftsmen of artistic beauty and substantially stable compositions of the highest order — but with this album they display it in such a way that feels more sincere and mature. More substantive and less frivolous. More fire less smoke.
