Minimum Export

6/11/00, Tokyo, JPN, Hibiya Outdoor Theatre

Photo via John Greene.

SET 1: First Tube > Punch You in the Eye, Horn > Ginseng Sullivan, Stash, Dirt, Possum > It's Ice, Farmhouse

SET 2: Birds of a Feather, Free > Beauty of My Dreams, Bug > David Bowie, When the Circus Comes, Back on the Train > Harry Hood

ENCORE: Character Zero

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6/11/00 is the stop on the Japan tour that feels the most like Phish’s 90s European vacations. People mostly remember those trips for highlights like the bonkers ‘97 Amsterdam run, the Prague Ghost, or the debut-fests in Dublin, but a lot of the continental shows from ‘96-’98 were less glamorous situations, with Phish playing anywhere they could to establish a new market. That meant the humbling Santana opener run, weird venues like a water park in Milan or Nazi amphitheaters populated by dwarves, and unforgiving time slots on multi-band festivals amidst mismatched lineups.

The Hibiya Outdoor Theatre is hardly low-rent, it looks like a rather classy bandshell nestled into some greenspace in downtown Tokyo. But the park around it was built in the early 20th-century as a tribute to Western culture – so Phish playing there is a little like a Japanese touring band playing the Japan section of EPCOT. In addition to being the only outdoor date on the tour, it’s also a matinee, starting at 2 in the afternoon. And they were paired with an opening act by the name of Big Frog, creating an unfortunate aquatic animal theme*.

Phish responds to this ignoble context by reverting to their core European strategy – the starter pack show. During the Santana run, I isolated the main ingredients of this approach: the “singles,” the American music stereotypes, the guitar solo features, and the agreeable covers. The songs that fit into those slots have changed a little over the intervening four years, but the purpose is the same – casting a wide net to try to ensnare any casual listeners passing by and ease them into the very steep learning curve of Phish fandom.

Generally, the updates to that stock package are pretty mild. Farmhouse tracks have moved into the single role – though oddly enough, not Heavy Things – and each one gets a big crowd pop, suggesting that the new record was performing better overseas than back at home. But the Americana and cover selections haven’t changed at all, with Ginseng and Beauty of My Dreams providing some bluegrass and When The Circus Comes tracing its lineage back to the Europe ‘97 tour. And the originals chosen to demonstrate some solo prowess and light Phish improv are all vintage material: Stash, Possum, Bowie, Hood – basically the same spine as hundreds of U.S. shows in the early 90s and many of the late 90s Europe gigs.

Photo via John Greene. Lots of Japanese heads!

But It’s kinda startling that the band can so easily flip back into this mode as late as 2000. It falls in the middle of one of their most adventurous tours ever, where they tested the outer limits of their late 90s ambient and shoegaze ideas. But there is absolutely zero of that in today’s show – aside from a few anachronistic songs, it could pass for a 1996 show sonically. It’s a little bit flubby compared to earlier iterations, with Trey losing the thread on It’s Ice and rushing the ending of Free, but not distractingly so. It’s just a pure demonstration of Phish’s core – postmodern classic rock that’s a little proggy and a little jammy – without the evolutionary layers accumulated over the last 6 years.

The bandshell setting and this show’s excellent Hood brought to mind another show right about at that 1994 pivot point: the free University of Florida performance that produced the legendary A Live One Hood. My angle on that show was that Phish was ignoring their sometimes amateur surroundings and pretending like they were the biggest band in the world, manifesting their future success – that holy jam is a magical sigil. Today’s bandshell show is an intriguing bookend, a band that has realized its artistic and commercial goals, role-playing as an up-and-coming group that still needs to win over a skeptical crowd. For all its competence, it’s a much less electric experience – a band playing below its abilities instead of punching above its weight.

* - They were a Japanese jamband, at least!