I skipped Night One—so take this with a grain of salt or a hit of your neighbor’s joint—but what I caught on Night Two was pure magic. The venue? A dream. Big enough to breathe, small enough to feel like the band was playing just for you. Sure, there was the usual chorus of chatter during Set One, but it didn’t bother me. The whole first frame had the energy of a golden-hour backyard rager—loose, sun-drenched, and full of joy.

The high point? Trey—grinning like a kid on the last day of school—sparking the crowd-wide wave during Divided Sky. It was silly. It was sacred. It was why we come. And the Cities? Absolute bliss. A laid-back, urban drift into a beautifully stretched Ether Edge, proving the new stuff can go deep when they let it.

But Set Two—man, Set Two was transcendence. No gimmicks, no marathon jams for the sake of it. Just focused, purposeful exploration. The Wave of Hope > What’s the Use? > Ruby Waves sequence was a revelation—Trey and Page in total dialogue, weaving in and out of each other’s lines like old friends finishing each other’s thoughts. It was tight, it was soaring, and it was alive.

And then, the encore—Rocky Top with 13,000 of us belting every word like it was gospel. Arms around strangers. Smiles from another world. Nights like this remind you: Phish isn’t just a band. It’s a state of mind.

5/5. Still the best show on Earth.