Trapped in Time

thebutterroom:

Happy Phourth of July From TBR in Alpharetta!

Of all the trips I’ve taken for Phish, none comes close to the one from last weekend. Incredible improv, some amazing bustouts (finally got my first Col. Forbin’s after 61 shows while wearing my red, white and blue Forbin shirt on the Fourth), and such a great time with three of my favorite people.  Three days later and the euphoria of the whole thing still hasn’t worn off!

Fluffhead - Phish
8.7.09 - Gorge Amphitheater, George, WA

(via thebutterroom)

Here’s a nice little iPhone video I shot at the Gorge.  12+ minutes of pure bliss synced up with soundboard audio in iMovie.

The Grateful Dead’s Bill Kreutzman sits in with Phish Sunday night at Red Rocks (8.2.09)

I love the contrast of the three in the foreground against dozens more on the other side of the Columbia.

I went back through some of my RAW files from the west coast trip tonight, and found a couple of great photos from Moab that I had missed upon first inspection.  This is a great one of Brian looking down on all of us with his camera and water bottle.  I also like the photo beneath, as Marcus takes everything in.

Last night we were talking about how much we all want to go back, and looking back through these photos, it’s hard not to want to be there right now.  The call of the West is strong right now; and even if it’s not Moab, I’m looking forward to heading out to Cali in October.

Since the monumental festival weekend that shook American culture in Woodstock, NY on August 15-16, 1969, music fans across the country have made journeys to new and interesting places to catch their favorite bands or expand their horizons at marathon festivals.  Live music and the summer season go hand in hand, an American past time not unlike baseball or cold beer.

I’ve seen my fair share of festivals over the years.  I was lucky enough to catch Radiohead electrify the Bonnaroo crowd in 2006, and got my first taste of the Grateful Dead scene in August 2002 as Terrapin Station reunited The Dead, dozens of like-minded artists and thousands of fans at Alpine Valley.  And in 2003, I ventured solo to Limestone, Maine to catch Phish’s IT festival, an experience that forever changed my outlook on what community and music can combine to create.

Since that experience when I was just 18 years old, I’ve been adamant that if and when the opportunity arose, I would complete a tour from one coast of the country to another. It was one of those “life goals” that I added to a list which included backpacking Europe, becoming my own boss, getting married and starting a family (amongst other things).

So when my favorite band announced they would tour coast to coast this summer, I saw what may be my one and only opportunity to do a true tour. The real touring bands of our generation are dropping like flies, and the commercialization and pressures of the industry often dictate a furious travel schedule that not only tires the artists, but prevents fans from jumping on for the long haul.

In retrospect, I believe Phish’s 2009 summer tour was one of the most memorable and important times of my life.  Kicking off the tour at Boston’s famed Fenway Park on May 31, Phish seemed to conjure that spirit of 1969, whether it be through the StarSpangled Banner that proceeded the band’s first notes of “Sample in a Jar,” or the message woven deep into the lyrics of their rare fan favorite, “Destiny Unbound.”

“He said ‘I’ve been havin’ this everlasting itch’… We gotta get on the road, destiny unbound.”

Fenway set the tone for a revitalized musical journey, inviting all of us along to share in the band’s joy, while leaving our own fears and problems at our doorsteps. The Jones Beach shows welcomed us back to Amphitheater Phish, a feeling much different than the indoor Hampton shows of March, or the grandeur of a legendary MLB park.

Following the lines going south, we witnessed Phish play their smallest show in almost a decade at Asheville’s Civic Center, before staging a 25,000 person Bonnaroo pre-party at a wild University of Tennessee arena.  In Manchester we gathered with many people catching their first glimpse of Phish in a larger-than-life late night set, out of the ordinary on many levels.  Bonnaroo also gave us an opportunity to see artists from all genres and time periods.  The Boss’ slightly cheesy Saturday night headlining performance had to have left a smile on your face, and watching Nine Inch Nails late night for their last large-scale U.S. show was something I’ll never forget.

All along the way, we met new people whose reasons for being there were much the same as our’s, even if their background was completely different.  As a group, The Butter Room became a lot closer over the course of the summer.  Eugene and I got to spend a couple of fun days in New York City with Todd and Graham, and were thrilled when the Brothers Blum decided to uproot from the east coast and see their June shows in the Midwest.  The four of us will likely never forget the band’s performance at Deer Creek, nor the lightning and monsoon that we walked through for over an hour. Nor will we forget the trek up to Alpine Valley, or the hospitality of Zak and his family. (Side note: don’t eat cookies that strangers hand to you after the show… results may vary or cause spaghetti to appear on your GPS).  Speaking of Alpine, I won’t soon forget seeing my first Phish show with my brother on Father’s Day, as the band opened up with their own “Brother” for the first time since 2003.

As the final set of the first leg of the tour came to a close with “Slave To The Traffic Light,” you couldn’t help but feel inspired to discover what the West would have in store.

Red Rocks felt like a badge of honor and piece of history.  There was a lot of work that had to be done to acquire tickets, a 14-hour drive to Denver, and even more awe at the beauty of such a natural venue.  Old friends reunited, our 4-person west coast tour crew assembled itself over the weekend, and new friends were made (Tony, you’re the man!).

Perhaps the highlight of my summer came outside of a Phish show as we drove from Denver to Moab, Utah, and caught a breathtaking sunset from atop Dead Horse Point. The tranquil isolation of the desert was a well-placed diversion from the growing momentum of the tour and what would follow.  Long drives saturated our next few days as we made it from Utah to Vegas, and Vegas to the Bay area for the Shoreline show.

At Shoreline we converged our crew with local friends we hadn’t seen in some time, as well as friends from home who had started their tour with some San Fran lovin’ in mind.  The band responded with great renditions of “Oh Sweet Nothin’” and “Cities,” keeping us nomads feeling as though we were at home.

Yet, not surprisingly, the apex of our tour was about to come as we journeyed up the west coast, making our way to the Gorge.  Playing slave to the traffic light once again, we nearly missed the beginning of the show, and used a scraped arm as evidence that we were “handicapped,” pulling up right to the gate and jumping into a packed line not even 10 minutes before the opening notes of “Down With Disease.”  Rather fitting that it was my favorite show of the tour, filled with exploratory jams, tight compositions, and a “Slave” that said as much with its breathy silence as it did with its crescendoing solos.  In the isolation of The Gorge, everyone seemed to find their connection to the band and music.  We were all in it together, with not a distraction or care in the world.

While the two nights above the Columbia River moved and inspired, we awoke Sunday morning to the reality that lay before us: You have almost 2,000 miles of driving to do in two days.  And so we drove.  On Monday Eugene and I shift drove 1,250 miles from Billings, MT to Chicago.  We watched the sun rise over the city before crashing long enough to recharge the batteries for a fun, but uneven show at Toyota Park.  We met up with our friends, including one who met Trey the day prior and got us the first “Paul and Silas” in 11 years (Thanks, Bart!), and even brought a couple friends to see their first Phish show.

This probably could have been enough, making it back home after two weeks gone. But after a couple days of attending to business and resting up, I decided that my goal of a cost-to-coast tour would not be complete without a return out east.  And so I drove 11 hours by myself out to the greater-D.C. area where I met up with with my Butter Room friends who I hadn’t seen since earlier in the summer.  I got to introduce a long-time Panic fan to her first Phish experience (even if the lot did feel like a concentration camp), and witnessed the veteran side of the Butter Room bond over their first summer show together in years.

On my final leg, I also met up with a veteran of 225 shows from Chicago, and hiked up from Merriweather to Saratoga to catch the tour closer.  After an intense pre-show storm, I finally got the Llama opener I’d been chasing all tour, a powerful “Anything But Me,” and a Harpua that almost seemed to say, “Sorry you missed Forbin’s the other night.”  Closing with AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell,” almost 13,000 miles of summer driving through 27 states and 20 shows seemed to converge into a single smile on my face that tied everything together.

I hope this summer meant as much to the band as it did to me.  On top of all the phenomenal music I saw and experienced, it was the special places I saw and wonderful relationships that blossomed this summer that will never leave my heart or mind.  At the end of a crazy decade, this tour planted some much needed hope in me, not just musically, but personally and spiritually.

Thanks to all of you who we met along the journey, and thanks to all of you who caught our setlist tweets, our streaming attempts, our photos and stories from the road.  This summer? A dream come true, I saw it through!  See you all in the fall, whether it be out in Indio, or another show along the way.

(via thebutterroom)

PHISH at The Gorge 8.8.09

Goin’ Down The Road…

Phish @ The Gorge 8.7.09

Watching Phish play while enjoying the sunset to my left and the Columbia River beneath to my right… not something I’ll soon forget.  It was breathtaking.

Beautiful windmills landscaping the high desert above the Columbia River

The Gorge

After 14 days, 6,085 miles, and a 1,250 mile straight shot drive from Billings, Montana today, we rolled into Chicago at 5:15 A.M. listening to a Ben Harper cover of “Sweet Home Chicago.”  I’m going to need some more time to properly reflect on this entire experience, but it’s definitely changed me for the better. I’ve spent valuable time with some great friends, met a lot of kind people, and seen places that I’ve dreamt of visiting for many years.

I also realized how much I miss my family and dog, and how much I truly love them.  I couldn’t feel more blessed to have such wonderful people in my life, nor the opportunity to see so much of this beautiful country.  The West is by and large so vast, empty, and yet full of natural beauty that it’s given me a new perspective on our country and the possibilities that lie out there.  I’m still considering driving out for Saturday’s show at Merriweather Post Pavilion where I’ll probably see many of my friends for the last time this year.  It would fulfill a long standing dream of driving coast to coast (and half way back again). Regardless, I could be quite content with what I’ve received from this trip just so far.

I’ve seen some amazing music from my favorite band in venues I have spent years dreaming of visiting (Red Rocks and The Gorge), while visiting natural treasures such as Moab, visiting Denver, Las Vegas, San Francisco, and Portland.  Tonight, for the first time in my life, Phish will be playing in MY city.  I’m excited to share it with with those closest to me and cap off this adventure just a few miles away from my apartment. I’ll never forget the past two weeks, or all of the joy and self reflection I’ve gained from it.