SET 1: Mozambique, Guyute, Ghost > Lawn Boy > Peaches en Regalia > The Moma Dance, Water in the Sky, When the Circus Comes, Back on the Train > David Bowie, The Squirming Coil
SET 2: Runaway Jim > Sand, Piper > Roggae, You Enjoy Myself -> Jam, Wolfman's Brother > Cold Rain and Snow
ENCORE: Viola Lee Blues
As mentioned yesterday, it felt inevitable that Phil Lesh would show up at Shoreline, making this appearance the least revelatory of the Phish-Dead truce trilogy of 98-99. It didn’t have the euphoric surprise of the Virginia Beach Terrapin, nor the gratifying accomplishment of the Phil & Friends shows. But it did complete the narrative arc I talked about at the end of that April run, when Phish (well, half of Phish) proved that they were the rare artists that could resist being completely subsumed by the Dead’s weighty legend. After that confident stance was taken, tested, and held, the logical next step was inviting Phil to their turf and making a 59-year-old man with a new liver jump on a trampoline.
Because of that predestination, I’m slightly more interested in what Phish did on this night before Phil came out. Even for a band at their artistic and commercial peak, it’s got to be a nerve-racking experience to play a show knowing that one of your heroes is listening in the wings. And while they had played with a slew of musical luminaries by this point, Phil is in a special tier. When Trey and Page were invited to join the Friends, they made him a mixtape like a smitten teenage boy. More than any other artist – and probably more than any other surviving member of the Grateful Dead – Phish wanted to show Phil what they were capable of.
It takes them a while to dial it in; maybe Phil and his entourage didn’t arrive until setbreak. But they come out roaring for the second set, playing one of the tour’s strongest segments before bringing out their guest. This summer, I was one of many who observed that a scheduled lengthy sit-in can change the dynamics of the entire show, and not always for the better. But instead of feeling rushed, the pre-Phil second set adds a layer of urgency and focus that 1999 has occasionally lacked.
Charitably, the band puts Mike in the spotlight so he can show off how he’s built off his idol’s unique approach to rock bass guitar and molded it into his own style. The bass fills in Runaway Jim are especially spicy tonight, and Mike’s inventions in the jam threaten to take it deep – but with limited time available, they resist the temptation. Trey calling for the tightly-contained bassline of Sand might seem like a cruel move, but it makes sense as a song where the bass, however restricted, plays a very prominent role, and it’s an atypically direct (and at 13 minutes, concise) performance. Maybe it doesn’t fully demonstrate Mike’s version of The Phil Zone, but it’s certainly heavy on the bass bombs.
Piper completes a trio of songs that don’t sound anything like the Grateful Dead, and it tears straight out of the slow build into a torrid section of primal Phish, chased with a spacey coda that Mike keeps rooted and slinky. Roggae is the one song in this segment that aims for the Dead’s signature sparkle, but it gets there in a quintessentially Phishy-y way, with all four contributing vocals and melodic threads. All told, it’s 45 minutes that show how Phish has taken the Grateful Dead model and advanced it, instead of just attempting to recreate it like so many others.
And then Phil finally arrives in the middle of YEM, a mid-song appearance that deprives us of a historic crowd pop; if anything, the crowd sounds confused at first about who the old guy is on the third trampoline. The ensuing sit-in is…fine? It’s always going to be awkward to have two bass guitars, never mind two of the busiest bassists in the biz. It’s only when Trey, Page, and Fish all withdraw that you can really make out Mike and Phil’s dialogue, the rest just sounds like Phish with an unusually messy low end*.
It’s more notable that half of the songs Phil plays on are Phish compositions – and the two Dead tunes are, technically, covers. The appearance is, of course, a very meaningful return leg of the historic Phish-Dead summit. But both ends of that union weren’t just meant to pay rote tribute to the bassist’s old band, but to use their overlapping musical sensibilities to collaborate on something new. As the most consistently forward-thinking member of the Dead, it makes sense that Phil would be the first to recognize Phish as equals, not disciples. And if this first appearance of a Dead member at a Phish show comes off as almost routine, it’s because it merely reinforces that once-heretical idea’s truth
* - I’ll make an exception for Trey’s “Cold Rain and Snow” solos, another sublime example of how he is unparalleled at walking the tightrope between staying true to his own style and subtly evoking Jerry.