, attached to 2015-09-06

Review by Fondue

Fondue I'm sitting at the airport in Denver, stupid tired, and just heard an announcement for the Esquandolas party to meet at the PGA store. A few moments earlier, they announced that there was a phone call for Colonel Forbin. No idea how that got through, but everyone who laughed made eye contact and shared smiles. So I guess maybe I get why Trey was the one thanking us in the encore. I guess you get out what you put in, wether you're looking at it from our side or the band's side. To all those who were starting to hate on this year's Dick's run for being disappointing or not quite up to par after nights one and two... pffft.

Friday had some solid moments, Saturday was mediocre on any scale, and Phish made frequent stops at the clam bar during the composed sections of multiple tunes throughout the weekend. But then you got Sunday.

Sunday!

For those just now getting a chance to point your ears at the last show of a great summer, most in attendance will be frothing uncontrollably about the encore, but don't skip the music that set us off into the night.

Check out the welcome-if-warty rarity of an opener, and some tasty playing straight through 7 below. Caspian was 'too soon' for me after that big league swinger from the Glen, but still brought some extra action. Mule's fun, their voices sound quite good on Birdwatcher and Frankenstein's got juice.

Set 2 can safely be spun top to bottom - piles of crowd energy in Wilson, Trey goes almost atonal as the band goes to the outer depths in Disease, Carini's dark and dank, and we just don't slow down in Steam or Piper. 2001 is wearing holes in my shoes when of all things Tweezer hits. The crowd becomes one undulating mass of happy people. Horse Morning is the best take a piss song that I never take a piss to unless it's in my pants, followed by a soaring Slave. Who isn't psyched at this point?

So, encore. Trey gives an audible that something's afoot when he asks us to only write Harpua once. My wife loudly says, "what are they spelling," and I hadn't even thought about that because Harpua, amiright? The next 30 or so minutes are smart, funny, irreverent, sentimental and fun. All the things this band has been for decades. They might not pay close attention to much of the chatter out in the world, but I have never thought they're immune to it. Trey's incredibly sincere words in the encore confirmed it. All I can think is that these guys are happy that they're in Phish. They're happy we're a part of it. There's probably no band that is more rewarding to be a fan of, now or ever.


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