A skanky show, and I say that in the most loving of ways. Loads of energy, loads of fun, Jim got us dancing, Cities felt all so appropriate here in the City of all Cities and Divided Sky felt pretty majestic by the end of it but the real funk and roll started with the old reliable warhorse of a Train and it chugged and percolated down the track in a Bayou sort-of way, very very tasty. Then we hopped off the train and onto that magical ship that the good Captain Page was steering and off we went, to that magical place where only Phish could take us to, to come hide in the herd and float with the flock. Yeah, this Ocelot was for me. And the rest of the set was pretty self-explanatory. Skanky in that good sort of way.

In the same way way that it was ok to get Down With Disease in what was to become the start of another of "those" six song sets that they are getting very good at performing this year. DWD, very long and very skanky, very deep and very dark until it revealed itself, Twenty Years Later. I love this song, it was the highlight of Sunday night Denver to my ears and it threatened to do so tonight. That was until the actual highlight IMHO started and with it, the lump on my head. I've now gotten back-to-back Carini's that have raised the bar for future versions and that is unfair, unfair to think that they could possibly top these last two versions, I couldn't possibly ask any more of them and this one in particular opened up Space and its infinite possibilities, the skank level was on overflow and we resided in its darkness until the light that is the Number Line shined upon us in the spirit of friendship that it was intended to be shared with us, some old friends on stage storytelling to the masses. Who happened to come out on top by luck of the draw. By crossing at the Traffic Light. And picking up Mr Minor and Mr Hood along the way. And feeling good about going. To the Show of Life. Thank you Mr. Minor. And Mr. Hood. And Mr. Trey. And Mr. Page. And Mr. Mike. And the ever-lovable Mr. Fishman. Memories are made of shows like this one. And the promise of another three glorious sets in what has already been a memorable MSG run. Who cares 'bout the gag, it will only be the desert in a four-course meal being delivered by chefs that are the best in their business. Can't wait to see/hear what ingredients they're planning on using in their next musical Gumbo.

Peace,
Alex