Swimming with the Phishes
Why everything I thought about the band Phish was wrong
Thanks to Bobby for inviting me to see Phish at MSG in NYC on the night of December 29th this week! Here’s what I thought…
Known for being an unabashed, shameless Critical Asshole, I tend to trash more movies, theatre, and concerts than rave about them. Hating art is as much fun for me as loving it since I get to gleefully pound my chest and growl like a gorilla throwing shit inside a filthy zoo cage. Hearing myself rant is almost as much fun as annoying the hell out of everyone around me when I do.
Anyway, all my expectations for hating Phish were annihilated within about twelve seconds after the house lights darkened at Madison Square Garden this Thursday night. Not only did I love the entire concert, but got the added thrill of being exposed to an entirely new live music experience that for years I had flippantly dismissed as hippy jazz played for Grateful Dead zombies.
Instead I was astonished by more than three blissful hours of nonstop sensory overload. Dosed on several varieties of Extremely Dangerous Drugs generously offered by Phellow Phishsters, my trip got better and better as the band’s two amazing sets blew the doors off the arena, continuously embellished throughout with a jawdropping light show that’s without doubt…
