[Thanks to Filip van der Pol aka Tora Tapes of KGLW.net for this guest blog post.]

Character Zero

I would have been just four years old when Phish played what was supposed to be their last concert in Europe in 1998. Like most Europeans, my parents had never heard of them. Phish wasn't big in Europe, nor was jam music as a genre. My dad did see the Grateful Dead play live in Germany once during a trip with friends, but calling him a "wook" would be a serious stretch.

Up until March of this year, I'd never even heard of Phish. In fact, my only exposure to the band was through the Ben & Jerry’s "Phish Food" flavour… which had already been discontinued in Europe by the time I learned of Phish. The name alone was a mystery to me. "Fish?" I thought. "No, it’s Phish. With a PH." Oh…

Contact

I’ve always been deeply into music, especially live performances, but having spent my life in Europe and a year in Australia (in 2023), Phish was completely off my radar. Jam bands just don’t really exist in Europe. The closest thing we have to improvisational music is in the electronic dance music (EDM) scene, which dominates here. When I shared that little factoid with some American friends, they couldn’t believe that jam bands aren’t really "a thing" in Europe. Honestly, now that I’ve discovered Phish, I can’t imagine it either.

Last year, I joined the KGLW.net team, which does a lot of archiving, setlist notation, and various other things for King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (basically, it’s Phish.net but for Gizz). During one of our meetings, a few people started talking about an upcoming show at Sphere in Las Vegas, and how some of them were planning to go. Since I was in a phase of discovering new music, I asked them, “Who is this Fish band? Any recommended tracks?”

“Yeah, just put on a live show,” someone casually said. And then, all of a sudden, everyone started chiming in with their favorite shows and dates. I decided to start with A Live One. After that album, plus a few other live tracks, I found myself intrigued by songs like "Wilson" and "Punch You in the Eye." When I mentioned this, the response was immediate: “You need to listen to Gamehendge.”

Split open and Melt

Without doing much research, I found a janky, warbly tape version of Gamehendge and gave it a listen... and I loved it. When I excitedly told my team, they laughed and said, "Why'd you listen to that? They literally just played it on New Year’s Eve, and the recording’s free online. Go watch that instead!" So I did, but at this point, I was still just casually enjoying Phish, treating them like any other new band I was exploring. I had their New Year’s show playing in the background while reading a book when, suddenly, something strange happened.

Mid-song—no, mid-phrase—the band just stopped. Completely. "What’s going on?" I thought. "Are they bad musicians?" But then, to my shock, the audience started clapping. For a song that hadn’t even finished! I glanced up at the screen and saw the band frozen on stage. The red-headed guitarist suddenly struck the end of the phrase with perfect timing, as if the whole thing had been an inside joke, and transitioned into this deeply emotional guitar solo, with the bass and organ joining in. The drummer, meanwhile, was doing something wild that at times reminded me of an EDM drop—a sound I was much more familiar with.

In that moment, they won me over completely. I was hooked. I replayed that exact track—"Divided Sky"—this time giving it my full attention. It had been a long time since a song moved me to tears of joy. At that moment, I knew I was no longer just curious—I had officially become a rookie Phan.

Backwards Down the Number Line

I asked around in a few Discord servers for favorite Phish shows and was flooded with suggestions. Joining a dedicated Phish Discord took it to another level. By the end of March, I had a huge list of shows to explore and started digging in, even staying up late to catch those Sphere shows live and watch the shows until the sun rose (Big Cypress, anyone?). The more I listened, the more I felt welcomed into the Phish community—people were excited to see someone from Europe discovering the band with fresh eyes.

What really grabbed me was seeing how much fun the band had on stage. They joked with each other and the crowd (bring back the signals!), and it reminded me of what I loved most about live shows: the spontaneity and joy. Too many bands feel like they’re just going through the motions, but Phish brought a contagious energy. It took me back to the first time I saw King Gizzard in the Netherlands—an unknown band to me at the time, but one that had so much fun playing live. I realized then how much I valued that kind of energy in live music.

In Australia, I saw a lot of small bands who jammed and changed setlists every night, and that became my thing. When I discovered Phish and saw that they did all that—along with pulling pranks on the crowd—it felt like striking gold. I started listening to them daily, diving into their massive catalog of live recordings. I listened to big shows like the 2000-06-14 Drum Logos ("Split open and Melt!"), early shows like the 1989-03-12 Nectar show with that awesome "Alumni Blues" or the 1994-07-08 Gamehendge show. But I also listened to the ‘not’ so great shows like the 2004-04-15 Las Vegas "AC/DC Bag" show or that "Split Open and Melt" at Coventry the same year. Each phase of their career offered something new, from jazz to rock, fast to slow. The more I listened, the more I noticed the details, while hearing tales of "wooks" and "shakedown streets" made the experience even richer.

I wanted to see these guys live now. Unfortunately, they had decided to not play outside North America since like 1998 or something and it absolutely frustrated me… at the same time I had planned a trip to see a few King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard shows in August and September. Specifically in Chicago, Minneapolis, Milwaukee, Red Rocks and the Gorge. Somehow this phish band had decided to play in Denver while Gizzard was playing in Chicago. I had a slightly monetary windfall and jumped right onto it. I was going to see them play live! Twice! At Dicks! This changed to seeing them play thrice a week later as I was listening to even more of their music during their summer tour.

Fluff’s Travels

I met up with a few people from phishcord as they had been my guiding light (and phish.net helping me with their recommendations). Everyone was super excited for me because not only was I seeing Phish for the first time, they could also show me the American culture and ‘the lot’. They all wanted my reaction, my thoughts, picking my brain. So this one is for those of you who have purple moustaches and are birds (sorry, inside jokes, just like Phish ;) )

My group had just found out about the posters. There were two awesome posters. One of which was a Welker which featured a LOT of Gamehendge references and the other (which I fancied more), a dinosaur fossil excavation poster. That last one was really cool since Denver is known for its fossils. We decided we should get there in time so we could get those posters. Of course, I joined in as I just wanted to be completely drowned in the experience. We got there pretty early, there were maybe 200 people in front of us in the line, and in the arid Colorado air we were just chilling around while getting swarmed by people wanting to sell us beers and “ICE COLD FATTIES, JUMBOOOOS!!”. Which was super strange to me. I had not really seen anything like that before and seeing people sell drugs out in the open like that was quite the experience. Everyone in the crowd was wearing merch, either self made stuff, official merch and ‘nonos’. That was something I had only experienced with a handful of americans that were showing up at the European King Gizzard shows. As a taper, I loved seeing the home-made items. Eventually at the merch cart I couldn’t decide on what to get… I was a big fan of this band and really liked the stuff I saw… I ended up getting maybe a bit too much… a koozie, stickers, Nalgenes, shirts, the posters, a vinyl, a blanket…

We strolled over the lot and people were still setting up their merch stands. It was amazing to see all the trinkets and variety of merch that people were selling on the dusty lot. Not just shirts and posters and drinks, but also earrings, patches, pins, bongs, shoes, caps. One of my friends was desperate to get a grilled cheese from the lot. I thought he meant a grilled cheese sandwich, but considering the amount of cheese tossed on the bread definitely made it more of a grilled cheese than a grilled cheese sandwich. As a Dutch person, I know my fair share of cheeses like Gouda, Maasdam, Leerdam, Old Amsterdam, Edam (which is madE the other way around), which I think would’ve been better choices than the cheddar they tossed on. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, bud.

Pillow Jets of Sound

For my first Phish show, I was wandering around the venue, watching people set up tarps and their taping gear. Being a taper myself, I introduced myself to some of the American tapers, most of whom had been doing it for years (while I had only been at it for about a year). It was great talking with them and learning, but soon I wanted to get closer to the stage. Luckily, a few of my friends were much closer, hanging out right by the camera rig on Mike’s side—what they called the "perfect" spot for a first Phish show.

When Phish took the stage, they didn’t say a word. Trey gave a wave, and they immediately launched into "Cities," one of the songs I was hoping to hear. Given how much I’ve moved around and lived in different cities, the jammed-out version made me reflect on all those places. I could already tell that Phish was all about fun on stage—exactly what I wanted from a live show. I could hear Mike's funky bass groove lead into a jam, with Trey joining in, Fishman taking the spotlight, and Page weaving in his parts. They flowed seamlessly into a spacey jam, and watching them play off each other was incredible. And that was just the first track! They also played one of my top 10 songs, “Ocelot,” and a rare “Sugar Shack.” I still think “Ocelot” has a lot of untapped potential for longer jams.

During set break, I caught up with my friends, who were eager to hear my thoughts. I was blown away and shared how much fun the band seemed to have on stage—something that would be reinforced again and again throughout the weekend.

Set two started with a fantastic “Ghost” and a beautiful “A Wave of Hope,” but my mind was really blown during “Sigma Oasis.” About a third of the way in, Mike flipped a filter that turned the jam into this funky, staccato groove, completely transforming the song. They were making new music right there on the spot. "Pillow Jets" followed with delicate jamming where no one was overpowering the others—it was all about balance. As they played, my attention constantly shifted between band members, each taking turns leading the jam. Trey eventually rose out of the mix at the 14-minute mark, only to step back and let someone else shine. It was stunning to witness.

The set took a less delicate turn with “2001” where the crowd chanted and threw glowsticks in sync with the music. They closed the set with “Harry Hood,” which Trey started by teasing “Pure Imagination” just 40 seconds in. The jam was sweet, dreamy, and the perfect end to a remarkable show. Even though I hoped for a longer encore, I couldn’t complain—I had just seen an incredible performance.

After the show, a friend asked what the peak was for me. It wasn’t a specific song; it was watching how well the band played together and how much fun they had on stage. That energy made it one of the best concerts I’d ever seen... until I checked my email right then and saw, “You have been selected for first entry to Dick’s Sporting Goods Park - 8/30/24.”

You Enjoy Myself

The next day, I arrived late to the first entry line with a friend, but he had just had surgery on his leg, so we were allowed to enter early, before the other first-entry folks. We went backstage, took an elevator down to the GA section, and saw the stage from the back. When Trey came out, he looked right at me and smiled. I couldn’t help but wonder—was I the tall Dutch guy who was new to the rail-riders? Did he decide right then to blow my mind and melt my face?

Riding the rail, we started the show with “Guelah Papyrus,” and I had to ask my neighbor what the song was since I didn’t know it. Seeing Trey and Mike do their little dance up close was hilarious and made me feel even more connected to the fun they were having. The first set was full of great jams, but they ended it with a massive “Antelope” that just kept building.

I turned to my neighbor and asked, “How can the second set top that?” He laughed and said, “I’m sure it will.” He was right. In hindsight, that second set is now considered one of the best in years. At the time, I couldn’t even process how incredible it was. They kept weaving jams together, teasing upcoming songs, and repeating sections. It felt so planned, but it was clear they were as surprised as the crowd. When they closed with one of my top 5 tracks, “Possum,” I was already in awe. But Trey and Fishman kept going, launching into a deeply emotional “Everything’s Right.” By the end of the song, I was sobbing. The “Welcome to group therapy” sticker I’d been given earlier felt spot-on.

The encore, was mind-blowing. Trey pulled out the megaphone for “Fee,” and he kept smiling at me after each section, knowing exactly how he wanted to close out the show. And then came “YEM.” I knew what was coming—the trampolines, the vocal jam—but I wasn’t prepared for how powerful it would be live. Mike and Trey extended the jam, and it wasn’t just my face melting—everyone at Dick’s Facemelting Goods Park was feeling it.

I woke up from a trance after the show, knowing it was the best concert I had ever experienced. My friends, people on Phish.net, and other phans in the crowd agreed it was one of the best they had seen in years. I wasn’t sure if the third show could possibly top it.

Maze

For the last show, I wanted to experience Kuroda’s light work from a different perspective, so I found a seat in the far end of the venue. I’ve always believed that sitting down at a concert makes it harder to feel the energy, and unfortunately, that proved true. After two days of walking and standing, I needed the break, especially since I had an early flight the next morning to Chicago to photograph and tape King Gizzard’s marathon show.

While Chris’ lights were incredible, after a while, I felt a bit disconnected. I couldn’t see the band as clearly from that distance, or watch them interact the way I had when I was closer. The songs they played weren’t as familiar to me either, except for a few like “Bathtub Gin,” “Melt,” and “Carini.” They played those tracks beautifully, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t as engaged. Maybe it was the distance, or the fact that I was sitting down, or perhaps the lingering memory of the previous night’s mind-blowing performance, but I just didn’t feel Phish as strongly that night.

One song, though, really stood out: a new, unreleased track called “What’s Going Through Your Mind.” Everyone perked up for it. With its emotional lyrics and unique jam, it immediately caught my attention and has been on repeat for me ever since.

The last song I saw them play was “First Tube,” and ironically, it was the one where I could really see the band having fun. Trey was running up and down the stage, jumping around with so much energy. It felt like the perfect way to close out three nights of incredible music. In that moment, I didn’t want to go to Chicago anymore—I wanted one more night of Phish. But I had American friends to meet in Chicago, and I couldn’t really push those social plans aside.

The next day, I looked up the setlist and instantly regretted leaving. “Tweezer,” “My Friend, My Friend,” “Tube,” “A Life Beyond The Dream,” “The Howling,” “Slave to the Traffic Light,” and “Tweezer Reprise”—all songs I’d hoped to see, but missed out on.

What’s Going Through Your Mind

The real problem now? I had made a bunch of new Phriends at the shows, experienced Phish live, and caught the Phever. And it kept making me think: “Why don’t these guys play in Europe anymore?” Sure, there are some bands over here dabbling in jamming, but they rarely break through. It would be amazing if Phish could inspire a new generation of jam bands in Europe, like the Dutch band Heath, which I’ve been taping lately.

One moment during the shows really stuck with me. Between sets, I started chatting with a guy named Mike, who had been following the band since the ‘90s and before that the Grateful Dead. We traded stories about the lengths we’d gone to just to see Phish—he talked about hitchhiking across the U.S. for Big Cypress, and Curveball (which threw him a curveball (sorry)) and I shared how I extended my trip just to make it to these shows. By the end of the night, Mike handed me that sticker, saying, “Welcome to group therapy.” That made me realize the Phish experience isn’t just about the music. Its about the community, the sense of belonging. The sharing of fun.

Imagine Phish coming back to Europe, playing in smaller, intimate venues, and inspiring local musicians to let loose. It’s a dream, but what a difference it could make to the scene here. For now, though, seeing Phish again means traveling to the U.S., which gets tricky when juggling house expenses and responsibilities in the Netherlands.

But what makes it worth the effort isn’t just the playful magic on stage. It’s the people you meet and the stories you carry with you. Phish life is more than a concert; it’s a community. That’s what makes it so special—and what I hope I can keep enjoying and maybe even help creating on the European side of the Atlantic.

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