Preshow: The line getting into the club was out of control! It went the length of the sidewalk outside the venue, and across the street almost down to 12th Ave. In some way it felt like a strange mini-shakedown street, us all freezing in the snow, ice on the sidewalk, heads lookin for a miracle ticket. The only thing missing was the scent of patchouli, although it could have been so cold out, I wouldn’t have been able to smell anything. I stayed on-line for about 15 minutes to get in – not so bad – would’ve been better had I had appropriate foot attire. The decision not to wear my flats would haunt me 4 hours later.
Once I got through security I felt the buzz inside, Trey was in the house, and people were ready to bounce Phish-style. You felt it in the air. My show karma continued (and I’m very grateful for it!), I got in with the perfect amount of time to get settled. I was able to get a drink and find a spot way on the right, pretty close up, with a pole next to me to lean on. There was a pocket of space at that time, but not much, as the crowd shifted into a dancing, picture-taking, movie making collective.
First Set: One of my buddies grabbed me and brought me upstairs to the VIP area (thanks Josh!) and I dropped my coat and was psyched. So so psyched! Lots of the bands’ posse were in the house last night, including Trey’s mom, and songwriter Tom Marshall and I’m sure so many other Phish Family members, I’m embarrassed to say I don’t know any other names.
Trey shreds his guitar. Those horns, oh the horns. Trumpet, trombone, sax. My my my, the funk just got a bit funkier.
He was on F I R E last night. I don’t know, I’m a deadhead-allmans-kinda-guitar-lovin gal, but Trey is easily fast becoming one of my favorite guitar players. Who knew I’d be putting phishhead on my list – or better yet, where have I been the last couple of years?
Stand-outs: Shine, Gotta Jibboo, Liquid TIme, Sample in a Jar (acoustic), Chalkdust Torture (acoustic), Wilson (acoustic)
Set break. Oh my lord, we are in for a smokin second set. First set ran about 2 hours, and there was oh so more to come. This was no typical Tuesday evening. Nope, not at all.
Second set: There were no standouts. The whole darn set rocked the roof off that cold winter night. Last Tube started out low and funky, and I knelt down to grab this photo on the right, in-between the legs of the people behind me. We, the collective we, went sliding ahead into a throwback of Dire Straits’ Sultans of Swing, and took a breather during Ether Sunday. A breather to be quickly forgotten when Zep’s Black Dog exploded, the trumpetess belting it out so incredibly soulful and strong… oh my heavenly musical angels, the Terminal 5 had elevated off its cement floor. Encore was Magilla, where those horns strutted their stuff all to end it with a bouncy, jumpy, smilie First Tube. In typical Mardi Gras fashion, I threw off those VIP beads into the crowd below and danced around with my fellow stranger friends till Trey and Classic TAB said goodnight.
Next morning: Woke up with a smile on my face, my hips not aching too bad, my feet still recuperating, whisssshhh-ing in my ears and happy, so so happy, to have caught an amazing show. Let me know if you were there!
More pictures here.
Set I: Shine, Cayman Review, Push On ‘Til the Day, Alaska, Mozambique, Gotta Jibboo, All That Almost Was, Drifting, Liquid Time, The Birdwatcher, Night Speaks to a Woman, Tuesday, Brian and Robert*, Strange Design*, Sample in a Jar*, Chalkdust Torture*, Wilson*
Set II: Sand, Alive Again, Last Tube > Show of Life, Sultans of Swing, Ether Sunday, Black Dog
E: Magilla, First Tube