Jesse Lauter is a music producer, engineer, and mixer who has worked with The Low Anthem, Elvis Perkins, Lenny Kaye (Patti Smith Group), James Blood Ulmer, Blind Pilot, Marco Benevento, Surprise Me Mr. Davis, and Dawes. He is currently producing a tribute album to Bob Dylan’s overlooked 1980s catalog, featuring Bob Weir with members of The National, Gene Ween & Slash, Built To Spill, Craig Finn (The Hold Steady), Deer Tick, Carl Broemel (My Morning Jacket), Blitzen Trapper, Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Langhorne Slim, Reggie Watts, and Widespread Panic.

This is the second installment of a two-part essay in which he offers an extended look at his longtime musical relationship with Phish as well as his take on the group’s recent West Coast tour. Click here to read Part one.

I woke up Friday morning, July 26th, at 4:30 AM in order to make a 7 AM flight out of JFK to Seattle. Fortunately I made it just as they were about to close the gate. I fell into a deep sleep on the flight and the dream began. I woke up at SEATAC and was immediately surrounded by dozens of Phish fans descending upon Washington to witness the band’s return to The Gorge– an airport overrun with excitement. I got my car rental with Trevor and his girlfriend Isabela, a Brazilian woman who had never been to a Phish concert but would soon see eight in a row. We caravanned with our friends and arrived at our first destination. That night would be my 50th show.

As I was walking into the venue, I ran into an old friend that I went to summer camp with as a kid. This is very typical at a Phish concert. If you have a long history with the band, you are bound to run into someone from your past. I introduced this friend to Phish at Ramah Darom, a Jewish camp in north Georgia. It was at this camp that I spent dozens of hours dubbing Phish bootlegs in the nature shack, with the encouragement of my counselors (a friend once aptly described Ramah as “Phish Boot Camp”). For care packages, I asked my parents to send blank tapes, which allowed me to take the precious booty from the elders (the days before drag’n’drop). I’d proceed to boogie around camp with my Walkman, lost in the groove and dreaming of playing guitar someday like Trey.

I will go out on a limb and say that Phish would not be as a big as they are without the perpetuation of their music by young Jews in the ‘90s, specifically at summer camps. I told you earlier that my sister introduced me to the band, but more specifically, she bought Junta after learning about them at Ramah Palmer in Massachusetts. The connections between the band and Judaism run deep. Mike Gordon and Jon Fishman, the band’s rhythm section, are both Jewish. Phish covers the Yom Kippur prayer, “Aveinu Malkeinu,” (which I got to witness at my first show, something that baffled my dad) and they even recorded a version of “Yerushalayim Shel Zahav (Jerusalem of Gold)” as a secret track for their 1994 album Hoist. Phish’s odes to Judaism are some of the most overt from any popular act and are a point of pride for many Jewish fans.

I once spotted another friend from my camp days (another person I introduced to the band) at a Madison Square Garden show a few years back. He had actually made the decision to become Orthodox some years ago and had been studying at Yeshiva University in Manhattan. I realized that he was at a show on the Sabbath, the Jewish day of rest. He told me that he and his friends walked to the show that night from the campus in Washington Heights, which is 150 blocks. He then admitted he’d “rather be at a Phish concert than shul [synagogue].” He could get kicked out of Yeshiva for a statement like that (unless his head rabbi was a Phish fan, which is certainly possible). Quite simply, Jews love Phish. I’d guess the average Jewish population at any given Phish concert is 25% (+/-10%).

So I entered the holy site that is The Gorge for the first time with my old friend from Jew-camp. You can immediately understand why people travel great lengths to see Phish at this venue. I’d heard it’s like seeing music at the Grand Canyon, and the spectacular setting translated in their playing. To my ears, the first night at The Gorge was a classic Phish show. First, this tour has sounded better than ever from an audio engineer’s standpoint. Word has gotten around that the band and their front-of-house engineer, Garry Brown, have elected to use an analog mixing console this tour, an extremely significant choice in an era where the norm is digital.

The distinction between analog and digital is a big topic, but in layman’s terms, it’s like describing the difference between taking a professional photograph with film versus a digital camera. One looks great and the other looks good but is simply more convenient and easily manipulated. One is true to the image and the other is binary code. With audio, going analog usually translates to a smoother sound with a tighter low end or bass. Digital audio is scientifically proven to be fatiguing to the ear for prolonged periods due to imperceptible harshness in the high-end (aka treble), but recalling your settings is as simple as the click of a button, just like opening a document in any word processor. You can easily hear the difference by comparing the Live Phish recordings (meticulously tracked and mixed night after night by my friend Jon Altschiller) over this past summer versus tours past. Phish is one of the only major touring acts that uses an analog board on the road.

Second, it was Chris Kuroda’s birthday that night so you could immediately tell everyone on stage was in good spirits. Kuroda is Phish’s famed lighting designer and is also known as the fifth member of the band or CK5, oftentimes pushing jams in certain directions with his lighting choices. A few songs in, the band played “Happy Birthday” for Kuroda followed by a tease of “Satisfaction,” as an ode to Mick Jagger who happens to share the same birthday. Later, Trey asked Kuroda to shut off the stage lights so they could jam and howl at the moon. During the anthemic “Wilson,” Trey stopped the song, saying the band invited the Seattle Seahawks to the show and they hoped the “Wilson chant” would become a tradition at Seattle’s Safeco Field in honor of rising-star quarterback Russell Wilson. It has since become a reality.

The correlations between Phish fandom and sports fandom are strong. As I said before, I go to every Phish concert free of expectation. I try not to anticipate anything because that’s what makes a Phish show exciting for me. But for a majority of fans, it is like a sport. Since the band plays a different set every night, predicting songs before they’re played is commonplace. If you predict correctly, then you’ve won something intangible for a fleeting moment amongst your friends. It gives one the feeling that they themselves were in the band deciding the setlist. Then there’s the collecting aspect. For many fans, going to shows is like collecting baseball cards. You go to a show and maybe you get the rare tune the band hardly plays. There are also fans who count how many states, cities and venues they’ve seen the band perform in. There’s now an app called “The Helping Phriendly App” that does the counting for you (which is how I know my show total). None of these things have anything to do with the music at hand, but just add to the overall experience for people who may not come to the show from a musical or artistic background.

The Phish experience is also very athletic. It’s not just mellow hippies who attend these shows. They’re actually in the minority these days. You’ll find many Phish fans are in good shape and that going to shows for some substitutes for exercise. Even though the shows are more of a mental workout for me (we are talking about the most mentally-taxing band in the history of rock), I love to dance at Phish concerts and it does serve a purpose in breaking a sweat. There’s even been a small surge in Phish-related exercise courses. I attended a fan-curated Phish yoga class at their Super Ball festival in 2011 (attempting to practice yoga to overstimulating Phish recordings seemed paradoxical to me, but the other participants seemed to enjoy themselves) and my buddy Ira just started the first-ever “Phish spinning” class (appropriately called “Spin Open & Melt”). Endurance is a tenet of jamming, so it’s no surprise this is becoming a part of the culture.

Oftentimes this athleticism comes hand-in-hand with aggression. You will repeatedly hear people say they go to Phish shows to “rage.” “Page Side, Rage Side” is a popular motto that refers to standing on the house-left side in front of keyboardist Page McConnell (which is ironic because Page has a very soft and sweet personality, but also can play some mean keys). The “rage mentality” may oppose one’s stereotype of the Phish scene, but they do have a few songs that could be described as heavy metal (Phish and Metallica fans slightly crossover). I’ve also recently experienced people getting violent at Phish concerts, both instances on the east coast. A friend of mine was punched in the face earlier this summer, forcing him to leave the show with his pregnant wife, and I myself was shoved by an aggressive fan for no apparent reason at the band’s most recent show at Jones Beach. I understand that not all people know how to control themselves in the “heightened state.” We are seeing a rock’n’roll band with one of the most ripping electric guitar players ever, and the combination of certain substances and musical tension can result in negative release. Aggressive personalities can also result in something less disturbing, but nevertheless rampant and aggravating– talkative concert-goers and over-active cellphone-use.

During night two at The Gorge, audience chatter really got to me. I believe this is the great issue of the current concert experience– our inability to focus on what’s being created on the stage. And because community is emphasized at Phish shows, it can be particularly awful. I don’t mean to stand on a soapbox but I do have an issue with so many adoring fans incapable of paying attention or keeping quiet during a show, particularly since Phish puts a heavy emphasis on the art of listening. But that is the state of the human condition. We’re all distracted by our mobile devices and going to a show for some has more to do with the ego or connecting with your friends (whether or not they are physically present) than what the four guys are doing on stage.

Phish is never going to tell their fans what to do, but other major artists are starting to. Bjork posted a message from the stage before her Bonnaroo set this year asking people to not take photos with their cellphones during the concert. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs have posted similar messages at their shows. Prince has also been doing the same but in a more aggressive fashion, kicking people out of his shows for using their cellphones. Neil Young recently called someone out mid-song for texting in the front row. In many ways, I wish Phish was able to pull something like this off just once. Maybe a silent meditation show? Here is a band whose ultimate goal is symbiosis between themselves and their fans, but frankly, the fans have a hard time zoning in.

That includes myself, by the way. I must admit there are times I have a hard time listening at a Phish concert. There are so many distractions and the people watching is incredible. I’m also guilty of busting out my phone during a show. But it’s a matter of staying focused. I am constantly reminding myself to listen, inhale, exhale, step in sync with the music, or concentrate on an individual member’s playing. I’ve also made it a point to put my phone into airplane mode so I can at least have the capability to write notes and yes, take photos.

I’m usually not afraid to tell my friends and neighbors to be quiet if they’re talking over the music (politely, of course), but I also don’t want to cause any more commotion. If it’s a general admission show, I’ll just leave for quieter surroundings, and that’s what I did night two at The Gorge. I started the show from the floor, but eventually elected to go to the top of the lawn. It was a great choice because I quickly ran into a group of friends I could dance with and also because I was able to take in the epic view, which was punctuated by a massive forest fire billowing on the other side of the Columbia River, creating a mushroom cloud of smoke that hovered over the stage. This was really something to behold. Our boys were furiously blazing through a set while a real fire literally blazed behind them. The contrast was striking. What was also striking was the fact that no one in the audience, nor the band, seemed to know what on earth was going on (it turns out that it was a brushfire that began earlier that morning. A few abandoned buildings burned down and no one was hurt). It was one of those moments when Mother Earth danced for us in her cosmic way that could only happen at the Church of Phish. In my opinion, it was the perfect chance for them to bust out their first version of The Grateful Dead’s “Fire On The Mountain” since 1984, which would have really set the house on fire. Opportunity, blown.

On this night, the band debuted the most exciting new song we heard the whole tour. It was a Mike original called “Say Something.” When it started with its swamp-funk groove, I was thrown for it being a tribute to J.J. Cale, who had passed earlier that day, but it turns out we had a fresh & catchy original in the mix (the band paid tribute to Cale a couple songs later with “After Midnight”). The only thing that has disappointed me about Phish of recent is their lack of new songs. A grand total of four were debuted throughout the summer (if you count Trey’s songs “Architect” and “Frost,” which were both on his last solo album, Traveler). “Say Something” was a slight breath of fresh air. Unfortunately, my friends around me didn’t think so and were vocal about it.

The Phish scene is rife with criticism and analysis. Sometimes I feel like I’m watching Phish Sportscenter when I’m with friends and acquaintances after a show, each person a talking head with an opinion on the event that just transpired, oftentimes overly critical. I wonder if Phish were a new band, could they succeed in today’s climate of blogs and playlist culture (or what I like to call ADDJing)? Would potential fans shut them down too quickly? On the contrary, could a new band reach the same heights as Phish and dedicate thousands of hours to practicing, like Phish has, in our world of easy distractions?

The band sent us off with one of the stronger second sets of the summer, highlighted by a triumphant version of Allen Toussaint’s “Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley.” We rocked into the night, cleaned up our campsite the next morning, and drove back to SEATAC just in time to fly to Reno for the Lake Tahoe shows later in the week. I was very excited to see Phish play one of the most serene places on earth. My friends and I rented a “nautical mansion” on the California side, laid low for a couple days, and saved our energy for what would ultimately be the highlight of the tour.

The venue at Harvey’s Casino isn’t anything to write home about (it’s a parking lot) but it was the natural surroundings (and the casinos) that created the atmosphere. We had one of the most beautiful lakes in the world to our left, one of the most beautiful mountain ranges in the world to our right, and one of the coolest bands in the history of rock playing before us. I also hit the blackjack tables before showtime on the first night and won $200. Not a bad way to start a Phish concert. After the Tahoe run, I vowed to never miss Phish at this venue again and I heard this sentiment echoed by many. However, my friends forewarned me about the chatter-fest I was about to experience, since they witnessed it the last time Phish came to Tahoe. Lo and behold, it was disturbing. These shows made me wish that the band would institute wireless headphones at their shows, ala The Silent Disco. Umphreys McGee has done it but I know that allowing a handful of fans the chance to rent wireless headsets with the front-of-house or Live Phish mix wouldn’t jibe with the band or their front office. One can only dream.

The second night of Tahoe began with the most lackluster set of the entire summer. For this, I blamed the chatter. It seemed as though the audience couldn’t care less about what was happening on stage, and that was reflected in the band’s playing and song choice. During setbreak, I jokingly predicted to my friends that the only way the band could redeem themselves was if they played “Tweezer into Tweezer into Tweezer.” Boy do I know this band all too well…

I’m not a “Tweezer lover” like many Phish fans, but whether you live for this exploratory-funk-vehicle or not, no one in that parking lot knew what was in store for the next 37 minutes. It was arguably one of the best things any of us had ever seen the band do and purportedly the seventh longest jam in their career. Do yourself a favor and take this one down if you haven’t already. Funkadelic’s ethos of “free your mind and your ass will follow” resonated in every note and Jimi Hendrix’s Band of Gypsys was certainly evoked, as was another personal favorite, Traffic.

The crux of this “Tweezer” was a call-and-response “woo” that began to emanate from the audience about 27 minutes into the jam. Audience participation is a major tenet of Phishdom and the audience participation during the “Tahoe Tweezer” was mostly on-point, adding to the raw power and excitement of the band’s improvisational masterpiece. The “woo”-ing became a theme for the rest of the show. But it also became a theme for the rest of the tour, which became an annoyance for many, including myself (a friend told me he saw a shirt in the Hollywood Bowl lot with Samuel L. Jackson’s character from Pulp Fiction holding a gun, reading “Say Woo Again!” Phish fans can be very creative and productive on the fly). We value Phish for their musical complexity and I think the band could have graduated us from a simpleton “woo” to something more complicated. Or nothing at all. That would’ve been just fine.

That being said, with the “Tahoe Tweezer,” we got that moment we had all been waiting for. That sermon that you’ll go back and say “remember when Reverend Trey…” and need not say anything else. Everyone who attended church that night will understand instantly. It also amazed me to see the reaction from people who weren’t physically there. Many friends on Facebook wrote about the “Tahoe Tweezer” that weren’t in attendance because they had downloaded it instantly after the show or heard it on YouTube. It was a peak moment for a band whose live sound is based around the creation of peak moments. It was also a nice way to transition into the three shows that weekend in San Francisco– my “homecoming shows.”

*****

My concept of “home” is complicated. I was born in San Francisco, raised in Atlanta (there was actually a brief stint in DC between SF and ATL), and have lived in New York for nearly a decade. But I still call San Francisco my home, mostly because my family goes back there six generations. Last year when Phish played San Francisco, I experienced what was easily the most difficult few days of my life. In February 2012, my grandfather, Robert (Bob) Lauter, underwent a surgery to remove a supposedly-benign cancerous growth from the top of his head. The surgery was botched, causing him to stroke and effectively making him insensate for the remaining months of his life. I was very close with my grandpa and this was extremely depressing for my family to witness. We were constantly updated as to how much time he had left, and when it became evident that he was probably going to pass in the fall, I made plans to say goodbye to him while Phish was in San Francisco. I did this because I knew this trip would be a difficult one and, well, you probably know my preferred form of therapy by now.

My grandma wasn’t doing well either. Before night two of last year’s Bill Graham run, I took her to the farmers market, where she proceeded to lose her breath while walking. She asked me not to tell anyone else in the family and I idiotically respected her wish. I took my uncle (a Dead Head) to his first Phish show that night along with Evan, one of my dearest friends from high school. We all had a real good time. Evan and I spent the next day with my grandma floating around Marin County, where my grandparents had resided since the early 90s. We visited my grandpa in the hospital and had an early dinner at my aunt and uncle’s in Forrest Knolls (the town where Jerry Garcia left this earth). Evan and I then departed for some more Phishing. We met up with my sister Eliana in the city.

An aside: Phish is an extremely important part of my family’s life. I told you my older sister Rachel introduced me to the band and our dad took us to our first show when we were kids. My dad is not a fan of the band (I tried sitting him down to watch one of the Chicago’s webcasts this summer but he couldn’t handle it. It overstimulates him which is perfectly understandable. He however digs the Trey Anastasio Band) but my two younger sisters, Eliana (23) and Shoshana (18), have each been to multiple shows, and now my mom is in the club. The four siblings took her to her first show at Madison Square Garden this past New Year’s run. She had a wonderful time and wants to go again. I’m very lucky to have a family where we all get along incredibly well, and even luckier that we all enjoy seeing Phish together (it kind of freaks out my older sister and I that we’re able to measure our Phishing career in the life of our youngest sister). I know several other families who share similar stories. What other bands, aside from The Dead, create these familial bonds? Beats me.

Phish played an incredible show that night at Bill Graham, considered by many to be one of the best of the 3.0 era, and I was glad to share it with my old pal and kid sister. Sadly, when we walked out of the venue, I finally checked my text messages to be informed that my grandma had suffered a severe heart attack during the show. My uncle told me to come to the hospital the next morning, so I stayed with Evan, Aaron, Trevor, and Aaron’s girlfriend, Karlee. I am forever grateful to them for the nurturing love they gave me that night. We were all riding high from church, and their care and attention only proved to me that “Phish friends” are the best type of friends.

I woke up the next morning still in a daze and rolled over to my cellphone. I got an email from a friend in New York with a subject reading, “Is this your building?!” It was a news article about my apartment building in Manhattan catching fire. It happened Saturday night and I had not been informed. Everything I owned was in there, including all of my recording equipment and several projects I had been working on. I got in touch with my sister Rachel and she sent her boyfriend to check on my place. Evan and I then went to the hospital to be greeted by my extended family and my grandparents’ friends. Although we took comfort being in the company of one another, there was a looming sadness in the waiting room. I was also scared shitless at the possibility of all my earthly possessions being gone for good.

I was finally allowed to see my grandmother. She was on a respirator and was badly bruised. Her body had really done a number on her. I approached her bed and when she saw me, she tried saying something. I couldn’t make it out the first time but when she repeated herself, I heard her say, “How was Phish?” I completely lost control of myself.

Fortunately, my apartment went unscathed. The adjacent tower incinerated. No one was hurt but many of my fellow tenants were displaced for almost a year. More importantly, grandma is doing okay, although she remained in hospital care for four months. I got a voicemail from her the other month saying, “Phish is on the Newshour. He’s wonderful! Now I know why you always go!”

I said goodbye for the last time to Grandpa Bob a couple days after the 2012 Bill Graham shows. He passed on October 1st, 2012. I like re-listening to the last night of that run (SF3 in “Phish speak”) but I can’t help but think of my grandma suffering and being carried away in an ambulance, or my grandfather withering in his hospital bed, or my neighbors homeless and robbed of all their material possessions, the meaning of material possessions, my family, my friends, my birthplace, home. I said it before– Phish’s music forces you to think about the big picture.

I initially thought returning to Bill Graham this summer was not going to be easy, but I brought Eliana on the first night, and it was a rewarding feeling to enter those doors again with my sister. I’m also always excited to see Phish play in San Francisco beyond my personal ties to the city. San Francisco is one of the more potent music cities in the world and is the birthplace of psychedelic rock, my “genre” of choice. This goes beyond The Dead. We’re talking Sly & The Family Stone, Creedence, Moby Grape, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Santana, Jefferson Airplane, Steve Miller, Sir Douglas Quintet, The Flamin Groovies. San Francisco may have never relived its heyday of the late 60s and early 70s, but its history is seeped within the bay, eucalyptus and fog. Though they’re not from San Francisco, one might argue that Phish is one of the last vestiges of that history.

Throughout the weekend, the band was digging further into their rich catalog of eight-hundred-plus songs, which always makes for a better show in my opinion. On the third night at Bill Graham, I made friends with my neighbors in my section. They were “farmers” from southern California. There’s a tradition of introducing yourself to your neighbors at a Phish concert. This tradition is comparable with a minister or rabbi asking congregants at the beginning of a service to introduce oneself to the people in your area and shake hands with someone you may not know. One of the farmers, Ty, was my type of Phish fan. He had been seeing the band since the mid 90s, but had only been to thirteen shows. He knew the band and he loved the band, but he didn’t need to be inundated by them. This wasn’t sport for him. No predicting or collecting here. He simply appreciated the band for their ingenuity and ability to bring the ruckus. The highlight of that night’s show for me was the double-whammy of an encore, the rarity original “Sanity” and the rarity cover “Bold As Love.” I wish I could bottle up the look on Ty’s face when they started up the Hendrix epic. It was that child-like enthusiasm that one could only hope they bring to every show, whether you’ve seen them thirteen times or two-hundred-and-thirteen times.

I slept for two hours that night on the floor of a friend’s hotel room, got my bags, and took the train to SFO for the last night of this mini-journey of mine. It wasn’t even noon and the terminal bar was filled with Phisheads drinking off their choices from the night before, awaiting to board our flight to Lala Land (it should be noted that it was Monday morning). There’s something quite special being on a plane filled with other Phish fans. We all know where we’re coming from and we all know where we’re going. It’s an unspoken connection. We’re literally flying together and figuratively crashing together. And we thankfully had almost arrived to our final destination.

I had never seen Phish in Los Angeles but kind of knew what to expect. The show definitely had the vibe of a music-industry showcase. I ran into the band’s manager, Coran Capshaw, before they hit the stage. I’m a client on his management company, Red Light, and his label, ATO Records, is releasing an album I’m producing. It’s a tribute to Bob Dylan’s music from the 1980s. Knowing that I might run into someone like Coran, I sometimes have to enter a Phish show with a certain degree of professionalism. It is my ultimate dream to work with them at least once. I sometimes struggle to find new music I can rally behind or bands that I can see myself working with. Since their return, Phish has felt like a young band to me and a beacon in this 21st Century flood of music. And they practice! What a radical concept!

During the show, I left my seats for the top of the venue, a wonderful hike that one must absolutely do if they’ve never been to the Hollywood Bowl. I’ve been seeing Phish for nearly twenty years and I can firmly say you’ve never seen Chris Kuroda do his magic until you’ve seen him do lights at the Bowl, so I wanted to get the view from “the mountaintop.” There’s a conveyor belt on the house right side that you can ride that makes you feel like you’re being elevated into heaven. I kept riding that conveyor belt like a giddy child in a theme park. You get that sense from a lot of people at shows– a bunch of social (or socially awkward) people who just want to feel young again. To feel the feeling we forgot. Sometimes I wonder if my life and artistic pursuits are a perpetual struggle to sustain the wonder with which Phish’s music imbued on my childhood and adolescence. We are all looking for that fountain of youth and for the Holy Spirit, even if we don’t know it. We are also looking to get laid, which is one in the same as looking for the Holy Spirit.

Seeing Phish play the Hollywood Bowl on a Monday night may not have seemed very “Phish like” on paper, but as the show progressed, it made all the sense in the world. This is an ideas band, a band to kick off someone’s work-week, and what a better place to end a tour than in this city of dreams. The crowd was hippy chic and chatty as shit but I couldn’t care less. On this cool summer’s evening, my life in this church started to make even more sense. This bands mean so much to me not only because they are so ingrained in my development, artistic sensibilities, family and social life, but because they speak to the condition we’re in, while telling us what else is possible.

Phish’s musicality has always reflected the hypersensitive reality of the world, a world that became more hypersensitive in the thick of their career (they were one of the first bands to have a substantial web presence). They’re so damn in tune with modern chaos that they played its symphony all too well, which at the heart of things is why people have borderline-religious experiences at their shows. Simultaneously, Phish can softly breath out solemn reminders of Mother Earth’s eternal beauty. This band is full of dualties– forest and city, awake and asleep, humor and maturity, bliss and rage, sober and high, childhood and adulthood. The dual nature of the Hollywood Bowl, a tranquil ampitheatre burrowed within the entertainment capital of the world, was very fitting. Phish articulates a consciousness consumed by mobility and pop culture, but their music also assures that amid the chaos (the Tension), there can be peace in the eye of the storm (the Release), just as long we learn to relax and let go of the “devices” we cling onto. This is the type of reminder we need as modern beings. Although cellphones, the internet and social media have their benefits (like being able to instantly hear an epic “Tweezer” from afar), they certainly have made us regress in far too many respects. It’s the new drug and we’re all addicted. I am reminded when at the Church of Phish that it’s not a bad thing to be analog in a digital world.

Phish is also a paragon for progress in music. A friend of mine recently pointed out the difference between Phish and The Dead after thirty years of existence. For The Dead, that was 1995, the year Jerry died. What about other significant bands and artists at 30? The Beatles and Hendrix didn’t even hit 10, Elvis died after 25, The Stones were questionable after 20, and Dylan… well, that’s a subject I shouldn’t get into. Bruce Springsteen, Prince, Neil Young, The Black Crowes, Nick Cave, and Tom Waits (although he doesn’t tour enough) are the only legacy artists I can think of on the same upward slope as Phish. There’s going to be a lot more discussion about them in the coming months as we approach their 30th in December, but their legacy is undeniable. MGMT, The National, Vampire Weekend, and many others, have all been public about Phish’s influence on their music. Their festivals (where they never needed to book supporting acts) proved to be the model for festivals such as Bonnaroo and Coachella, the few glimmers of hope in our struggling industry. And now Phish is creating the model for web-streaming concerts. My ‘80s Dylan tribute album is kind of a statement on artistic struggles and the cultural nadir that was the ‘80s, but I’m starting to work on a Phish tribute album, which will undoubtedly be a statement about their impact on American culture.

The tour ended with “Loving Cup,” The Rolling Stone’s classic where the congregation relishes in life’s “beautiful buzz.” Trey, Mike, Page and Fish gave a final wave and left the stage. We relaxed in our seats as most exited and said goodbye to this great temple we had called our home for the past eleven days, knowing we will be back the next opportunity we get. I went to a party to celebrate the end of a pilgrimage and then to a friend’s to sleep off this lifelong dream.