The last show of summer tour and the first show for me and a friend. It was raining, and I was shivering in a T-shirt as I stood on the uncovered grass beside the Delaware River. The boys walked onstage and started playing Llama, and I knew I was in for life. They had made a decision to reflect the current situation. "Cold, steady rain. Rain!" Trey sang.

I can still hear his sharp, angry notes as the band opened up the jam (2:10). I was trying to dancing and trying to build warmth, but I was still uncomfortable. The discordant playing resonated.

Those upward-facing peaks from Trey in Moma Dance (7:15), with Fish egging him on, communicated to me that the band was ready to have fun and not just coldly grind. Mike said he was ready to party too when he engaged the distorted wah-wah effect (9:24).

Moma Dance settled down and Trey picked out the initial notes to Divided Sky, which my favorite song at the time. I knew I was in good hands. My body followed along with the rhythm of the composition. The pause came and the crowd cheered and it did feel like we were all along on a religious trek together and we had to celebrate the moment. Trey's wistful denouement followed.

Dirt -- a perfect Farmhouse slowdown song. Seven Below -- okay, I was listening to Round Room before this show and I thought it was a pretty good song. It sounds to me like a good specimen of 2.0 songwriting. The Sloth - a rousing rendition for my first taste of Gamehendge. And then ... Water in the Sky? Boring. Wolfman's came with a fun peak. Possum delivers a little more Gamehedge. Nothing special. Set break.

Set 2 starts with Piper, a song from Farmhouse I loved then and still can't get enough of. The downcast jamming from 8:56 to 9:48 stands out, reminding me of the darkness from the beginning of the set. But within two minutes the darkness gave way to a bliss jam as Fish slowed the pace. Trey apparently not sure where to take the jam at 15:53. Mike drops a few fat bombs. Fish picks up the pace and Trey's confidence is building, the familiar distorted tone is back in minutes 18 and 19. Page is adding flourishes on the B-2 Hammond. Just proud rock without much of a direction, which is fine. Mike is back with the wah as the beat slows and Trey backs off the aggression. Page keeps throwing down extended melodic backgrounds. Fish lets the beat peter out altogether.

So Trey calls for Mike's Song. It gets a bit interesting at 6:55, when Trey plucks out some discordant higher notes that end up being the setup for a peak. But the improvisation is over in a little over a minute as the band moves on to your standard Hydrogen and then of course Groove. The boys got locked in to a funky/angry chord progression loop at 10:45, with Fish riding the hi-hat, speeding things up and then slowing things down again. Trey backs off and Page playing softly, opening up a void with slow, relaxed drums. Trey sees an opening for Free, plucking his strings till the band catches up. It's a bit of a forced segue. At minute 4, Mike is slapping the alien funk bass as Trey keeps the power chords coming. He leads the band through the logical end of the ballad, leaving quiet. He sings the first words to Friday, a more forgettable Round Room effort than Seven Below. "Why isn't it Friday today," indeed. They do it and they end it, and they reward the crowd with Hood. The jam loses direction at the 14-minute mark, but Trey plays hopeful clear notes that match Fish's pitter-patter. The band collectively digs around in a rhythm-heavy corner until returning to familiar Hood ground at minute 19 and following the path out.

No one is going to argue with Phish going to Edgar Winter's Frankenstein for an encore. At 6 minutes, it was fun, but it was over too soon.

In the end, the cold didn't matter. The outing changed me. "One of the best nights of my life," I wrote in my journal.