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Coney Island represents a celebration--of sandy beaches, minor league
baseball, roller coasters, and a gluttony of hot dogs. It's a land of
enchantment and home to the Mets' Class A minor league team, the Brooklyn
Cyclones. |
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We hopped on the D Train from West 4th at 5:15, and I was "out of my brain on the 5:15." With my stomach in knots from going to see the 13th-to-last Phish show ever, I felt anxious taking the subway to the show. Above left, Meredith and Beth whisper of escapades while Marcus looks up in front of an ineffective anti-marijuana ad. At right, Marcus and Aaron get set for the show while Aaron, ever the salesman, advertises Relix Magazine with his poncho. The strangest people showed up to Coney Island. Besides the usual dealers and whores, there were friends from all walks of life. A stranger named Todd recognized me and Beth from my web site and congratulated us on our wedding together. |
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Everywhere I turned I saw people I knew. J. Lees, down from Maine.
Jesse Jarnow from The
Island. Zoë, who I've barely since Radio
City. Jesse Lubinsky, below, a fellow Phishhead from Bronx Science
'94, lamented settling for seeing only 49 shows. (He ended up catching
50.) |
Orf, below, happened to be in a train behind us.
In four years of seeing live music together, this was the first
time I'd seen him at a Phish event. Orf's wearing an appropriately
festive shirt for the occasion.
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I was a married man now. I had been seeing Phish for 9 years
and 11 months, from the summer after high school to the summer
of my wedding. I'd traveled to see Phish nearly 150 times in 22
states and 8 countries. And now I'd be seeing them in Brooklyn,
for the first time, in a baseball park, for the first time, on
a tour opener, for the last time. This stage of my life, which
carried me from adolescence to adulthood (in the best way conceivable)
was beginning its end. |
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Cruising into the modern ballpark, I was reintroduced to the
familiar sight and smell of wet outfield grass. Seeing Phish
play in a baseball venue was an odd juxtaposition of my passions..
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Catching
Phish in a baseball stadium was akin
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For the first show of the two-night stand, Beth and I had tickets for the seated section of Keyspan Park. Unfortunately, the field section was separated from the seated section, so friends with field tickets were separated as well. Joined in the stands with Marcus and Meredith, we scooped up the best possible seats, two rows up from the field, next to the Cyclones home dugout. I half-expected to see Cyclones manager Howard Johnson calling the set list. Then the show began. And right from the start, it was one of those shows where the song selection fit like a jigsaw puzzle. |
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Fittingly, Phish began their final tour by debuting one of the tunes from Undermind: A Song I Heard the Ocean Sing. From a stage on the lip of the Atlantic, Phish sang their ode to the music of the Ocean. Dark and complex, ASIHTOS at one time seemed a promising new direction for Phish. Instead, the song's chorus spoke volumes about the band's trajectory: "Run away, run away, run away, run away." The song's reference to "ten years before the mass" had me vividly contemplating my decade with Phish. Ten years before the show, I was preparing to graduate high school and getting excited to see Phish at Jones Beach. (June 17, 1994, was also the day OJ Simpson ran from the cops and the date of one of my first--and favorite--Phish live recordings.) By some feat of 21st-century technological marvel, this show was being broadcast live into cinema theaters across the county. Beamed via satellite, Phish fans (including my friends in Chicago) watched the concert, in real-time, from the comfort of their movie theater seats. This was a nod to those fans, and I had to smile in appreciation. |
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Since I heard the official announcement that Phish was going to disband, I figured their last song would be The Curtain. It made sense that they would close the curtain on the magical phenomenon that was Phish with The Curtain. And in my mind, the curtain had already begun to close. Yet when Phish played The Curtain With for their third song of the tour, my mindset shifted entirely. Phish was ending, yes, but The Curtain was opening one more time. This tour was Phish's encore, and the band was opening the curtain wide for its final bow. The Curtain had, over the course of my personal history, gone from being one of my least favorite Phish songs to my favorite. The majestic addendum to the song, With, was introduced to me in Vegas 2000, and it had changed my perspective on the epic song. Its repeated lyric, "Please Me Have No Regrets" made it onto the only Phish shirt I ever made (for Coventry), and its message was taken to heart not only among the fans dancing away in Brooklyn and in movie theaters from Orlando to Seattle but from the four old friends playing music on stage as well. And for the record, they played it brilliantly. |
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Above, Marcus stares in awe at the greatest band in rock 'n roll history. Below, Bethy waves an early good-bye to the band. |
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The sun fell on Brooklyn as Phish turned up the energy. Either they were playing a set list tailored perfectly to my imagination, or I was reading a lot into the songs. Either way, I was psyched. A Sample In a Jar followed The Curtain With, reminding me why I fell in love with Phish in the first place. Sample's riff first hooked me to the band, and I remember listening to it on repeat from the album Hoist while in my high school cafeteria. Phish played Sample at my first show, and I was overjoyed at the time. Ten years later, I was downright giddy. |
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Moma Dance reiterated the appropriate song selection. In the weeks preceding the show, one fan had tried to organize a skywriting project where he'd hire a plane to write "The Moment Never Ends" in the sky over Coney Island. Alas, the funding fell through (and the weather wasn't right anyway), but "Moma Dance" was in my subconscious all day. Allusions to the shore and the moment ending had the rhythm bouncing around my head even before Phish started playing it. And it was a phenomenal performance, funky and danceable, with a spirit that you wouldn't expect from a soon-to-be-defunct band. |
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The moment ends though I feel winds |
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Phish provided me a gentle reminder to enjoy the moment and make it last. The level of my dancing turned up a notch or two. |
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I was nowhere near the stage on June 17, 2004. But my buddy "El Topo" got to the front row, and he managed to dig himself up a photo pass to document the event. The stunning photograph of Mike Gordon, at left, and the other ridiculous shots of the band below, were taken by him. All of El Topo's photos from this show can be found at his Web site Here. |
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Free followed the Moma Dance, and the skies opened up. The forecasted heavy rains drenched the boogying crowd. There was absolutely no shelter for the thousands of fans on the field, and only a little coverage at the top of the stands. I sealed my camera in a plastic bag, and Jon hurried to stash his backstage. You can either try to run for cover and reject the rains when they fall, or you can open your arms and embrace each drop. Beth and I chose the latter option, using the rain as a coolant for our internal engines. Maze was the perfect song for the storm, and I swear I never felt wet despite the water in the sky. That's how hot it was. The Frankenstein first set closer was pure, unadulterated chaos. |
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If you listen to the official release of this show, just before the start of the second a large crowd sings Take Me Out to the Ballgame. It's clear as day, all the way to the "One, two, three strikes you're out at the old ballgame!" This led seamlessly into the second set opener, 46 Days. The 17-minute opener set the tone for a second set of Phish classics: Possum, Oh Kee Pah > Suzy Greenberg, 2001, and the classic Mike's Groove: Mike's > I'm Hydrogen > Weekapaug Groove. The poetic Kung, with its goofy lyrics of a golf cart marathon, paid tribute to the U.S. Open golf tournament being played elsewhere on Long Island. I spotted my friend Gene on the aisle during the Oh Kee Pah Ceremony. He had his cell phone extended straight ahead, getting the caller on the other end of his phone as close as possible to the instrumental masterpiece. Gene was holding his phone above his head, and he was absolutely beaming. Gene is the kind of guy to want to spread the good vibes to everyone he knows (and those he doesn't), and the sight of his generosity just made me smile at the scene. |
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Divided Sky encore. It doesn't get more perfect than that. Soaked to the bone, I soaked in every glorious note, including the one--especially the one--that took forever to come. Then it was back on the train, back to work on Friday, and back to Coney Island for another night of Brooklyn Phish fun. |
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The second of the two Coney Island shows was not as world-shattering for me as the first. We had tickets for the open floor this time, and we climbed down toward the front of stage left. I was amazed that, given the tough-ticket nature of these shows, there was plenty of dancing room on the floor. There were even large gaps on the sides that were mostly empty. I was appreciative of the fact that Keyspan Park had chosen not to oversell the stadium. Then again, I had tickets, so it was easy for me to say. At right, G.W. Bush at the Phish show. |
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There were always those people on Phish tour that you'd run into everywhere. At a gas station hundreds of miles from the show. In line waiting for doors to open. In the bathroom, one urinal over. One of those guys for me was Kenny Funk, an old-school Deadhead who spent summers with me on Fire Island. One time I was coming back to my room after the Phish show in Prague '98, and there was Kenny walking into his adjacent room. Anyway, there he was again, with his tour buddy Warren, on the field of Keyspan Park. He waves below while Meredith smiles in the corner. |
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I remember dancing with Beth to Stash off to the side of the field section. We skipped around, spinning to every turn in the song's brilliant composition. This was Phish, I thought, gaining yet another new appreciation for Stash. I sadly pondered if this would be the last time I'd hear those notes performed live ever again. Crowd Control represents the last crop of Phish songs, and some say it relates to the band's frustration of an unappreciative audience. Knowing that the band felt compelled to always play its old songs (as a part of the reason for the breakup), I hollered "We love your new songs! We really do!" Either Trey didn't hear me, or he didn't let me influence his decision to break up the band. It was a solid, albeit disjointed first set of music. A mind-tingling Tweezer was the cap. |
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The real stand-out/surprise of the night came in the second set. After a traditional but enjoyable Wilson > Down with Disease, Phish stopped the set to introduce a guest. Phish has played with rock legends like Buddy Guy, jazz and blues gods Bela Fleck and Son Seals, and even Country stars like Tom O'Brien and Alison Kraus. But this was truly unexpected. Phish brought out, on stage, Jay-Z, the Brooklyn-born-and-bred rapper. Jay-Z had just released his final album, The Black Album, and he decided to step away from his craft at the top of his game. Sound familiar? Jay-Z and Phish were an unlikely pairing of artists, yet somehow it made sense. |
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I was surprised to see Jay-Z welcomed so warmly by Phish fans. Granted, Jay-Z is/was one of the most talented rappers on the planet. But I didn't expect as many people to know who Jay-Z was, let alone freak out over his presence. Most people around me knew every word to the first song he played, 99 Problems. Besides an outstandingly catchy chorus that, as I explained to Beth, is not misogynist, the song included a verse about getting pulled over that many Phish fans could relate to: The year is '94 and in my trunk is raw / In my rear view mirror
is the mother fuckin law Jay-Z's stage presence was dominating, and the crowd totally ate it up. The fans screamed the last line to the "I got 99 problems . . . " lyric. 99 Problems received a thunderous ovation, and Jay-Z looked genuinely impressed with the explosive energy of the crowd. When it was over, he said "I felt it!" and looked back to the four dorky white guys on stage. Then, in a move that I think was unplanned, he asked the fans if he could play another tune. Yeah, the fans were cool with one more! |
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99 Problems was awesome, no doubt, but to me it was largely a novelty. That was not so for the second song they played together, Big Pimpin'! Trey jammed a little riff over Jay-Z's stylish rapping, and it really clicked. At least in that odd, Phish sort of way. It's coherent, groovy, and bouncy. (Jay-Z directed the fans to 'bounce' repeatedly.) All in all, it's a highlight of the show, the weekend, and the whole final tour. Jay-Z would later be quoted in Rolling Stone as saying, "I went out and had a great time, and I've never performed in Brooklyn like that. That was beautiful." It was beautiful indeed, Jay-Z. |
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Jay-Z's exit from the stage was timed with the opening chords to Chalkdust Torture, so Phish kept up the pace for the stunned audience. For me, though, Phish couldn't top the experience of having one of the world's best rappers front one of the world's best bands. Even Trey joked about having Eric Clapton on stage after the Chalkdust Torture. Only given the situation (in Brooklyn, following Jay-Z's retirement), even Clapton would have been a step down. Phish wrapped up their final New York City gig (excluding the show atop the Letterman marquee three days later) with a double encore of the always powerful Bug and the reprise of the earlier Tweezer. Above, Dina, Beth, Aaron, and Jill stop for a quick group hug by the Keyspan Park entrance to remember the moment. Then it was back on the train. Again. |
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Above, our train crosses the Manhattan Bridge, the lights of the Brooklyn Bridge and the foggy downtown skyscrapers visible in the background. I looked out the Plexiglas windows as the Manhattan skyline grew into focus. |
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We left the borough of Kings, after having about as good a time as one could possibly have in Coney Island. At left, I look content with my Coney Island Baby while Jill smiles in the center of the frame. The subway ad was a nice coincidence, and its Ferris wheel reprises yet another common Phish-ism. Through it all, Phish was still capable of blowing me away. They could still surprise me and teach me new things about their songs--both the old ones and the ones I'd never heard before. It was an epic two-day stand, one of my most perfect two-day Phish experiences. |
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"Do you remember Coney Island? And how it used to be? Well it's everything it used to be--and more!" |
