, attached to 2014-10-28

Review by gankmore

gankmore I like to spin the the dead center of the back hall of this venue. When all goes well you can see every member of the band enough to see smiles and nods from that spot and also see all of San Francisco unfolding right outside the doors. I think I've done that nearly every set of every show at this venue (except for 8-19-12 II where my friend Casey talked me into a balcony seat, and that went really well -- the Way is not an unvarying way).

There's this wonderful spot in the middle of the venue which is a line of symmetry roughly at the I in phish on the marquee of the venue that's a perfect place to ride huge waves of phish kinetic waves. It's not my spot, you can dance there too, but man do I like it.

It's a perfect spot to spin circles of devotion and healing through the crowd, but then again I've always had an over inflated view of the importance of that sort of thing (and probably my own role in it), having come up in the grateful dead scene when there were many more folks who had this practice all spinning in unison.

Last night this spot made a terrific viewpoint for a huge scene outside, filled with far more freaks than our own little circus: The Giants were suffering a major game 6 defeat in Kansas City, broadcast in technicolor right outside Phish's grand San Francisco tour perch last night to tens of thousands, many of whom had long since left for home when the band started into a down right triumphant Crowd Control. The Mike's Hydrogen Groove was stellar and a sign we were in for a series night of fireworks fit to lose a world series game by.

Wingsuit is the least favorite of my new phish tunes, mostly because as an avid Squaw Valley skier, this one always takes me a little too vividly towards the memory of Shane McConkey one of the gods of my sport who died far too early in wingsuit crash. So much to lose. A good metaphor for the need to "make good decisions" (as I always like to heckle phans to try to remember outside the show -- something I was doing last night a lovely young man pointed out how hard it was to take me seriously saying that when I was so completely covered in glitter, but I'm getting ahead of myself). Maybe the metaphor is a little too close to what I do by putting phish right in the middle of a high functioning otherwise pretty boring existence. It's my way to fly.

Wingsuit isn't my favorite bit of psychedelic dim sum, but I certainly did not spit this one in my napkin. Even my least loved new tunes are incredible monkey bars for the band.

Man do I love Water in the Sky though. No complaints on the song writing here or the mental image it conjures in me, because you know, that stuff matters?

Plasma made another surge around it's new found stomping ground.

And then into Halfway, which *is* my favorite of the new tunes, though it really is older sibling to the other Fuego songs and has the confidence and swagger to make the old family truckster hum down the road.

Poor Heart was a mid set victory lap somewhat akin to Rocky Top 8-19-12 II, but you draw your analogy where you want. This was fun.

The Gumbo was strong and Sanity loaded the bases for Antelope to knock at least a few RBIs in for a first set that had everyone talking phish over sports at set break.

It occurs to me that I've got to head off to work here in about half an hour, and this long and rambling review is almost better deleted.

Kill Devil was a rocking second set opener, even though this one seems first setty as did the very beautiful and well executed Mist.

Fuego seemed at home in this set and didn't make me cringe a bit in terms of selection . It just worked.

This whole show really did Twist everything around including song orders, and the results are just incredible. Every single song in the first deserves it's own set of analogies and hyperbole, but you'll want to make sure not to miss the Twist > Jim > Hood. Yowzers. I caught SPAC and Mann this summer and know I'm west coast biased but the Hood took us somewhere close to the level of raw and open true improvisational incredibleness we found last summer in the Tahoe Tweezer.

And the only way to defend that comparison is to point out what my old friend one said

but there is no competition—
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

Next time you're at a BGCA show, stop by and spin a few circles with me in the back.

Root root root for the home team, if they don't win go see phish!


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