Quick thought about Summer 2016 Phish.
From my world-changing bestseller, the 33-1/3 volume on Phish’s A Live One
And maybe part of the appeal of pop music is that it doesn’t have a past: in three minutes you won’t go far enough to forget where you came from. Duration is a big part of the psych-rock experience; or maybe I mean scope. How much world fits inside.
Overfamiliar fans sometimes skip over the band’s “Type I” jams (like the ALO “Stash” and “Chalk Dust”: closed-circuit improvisations on fixed changes or modes which don’t abandon the songform) in favor of open-ended “psychedelic” journeys like the Bangor “Tweezer” on A Live One. But it’s the explicitly purpose-driven improvisations that form the bedrock of the band’s improvisatory method; the open-ended explorations take their power not least from the group’s tendency toward coherence, which develops in the “Type I” stuff.
Those contained improvisations function partly as teaching tools, as “zones of proximal development” which scaffold the listener’s learning, not to mention the musicians’. There’s a reason the self-dissolving jams like the ALO “Tweezer” only ever happen in second sets — or on second discs.
Many of us noticed early in the band’s ‘3.0’ era that, while the band’s improvisations were no longer distended half-hour brainmelts as they’d been a half-decade prior — while the multipart ‘Type II’ jams of yesteryear seemed curiously, worryingly absent — they were accomplishing more in five minutes than 2004 Phish could’ve done in fifteen. In 2009-10, at a time when many fans, especially younger ones, were complaining that the band ‘couldn’t jam anymore’ and so forth, the band’s enormous increase in improvisatory effectiveness was reason to hope that something new was coming.
It’s here, of course. Since 2011 they’ve been playing at career peak levels of fluidity, empathy, creative freedom. We’re hearing some killer music this summer; it’s ‘dad rock’ in a sense, but y’know what? your dad sure can’t play this shit. They don’t bat 1.000 anymore, but then it’s long past time to acknowledge that Phish’s mid/late-90s creative streak was a freak occurrence — and to ask seriously whether any other American bands have strung together a five-year run like Phish’s 1994-99 explosion. Meanwhile their 2011-16 streak covers a lot fewer shows, and a much less dramatic stylistic transformation. But their achievement — harmony, sustainability, total improvisatory openness — is every bit as thrilling, if you submit to its logic. In a sense, they’re a better band today than they’ve ever been.
Of course, if you don’t like Phish’s music, have a nice time with whatever you’re into. No sensible person would hold it against you.
But I’ll say this: you’re missing out…