Party Time

10/8/99, Uniondale, NY, Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum

SET 1: Piper, AC/DC Bag, Suzy Greenberg, Meat, Meatstick, Run Like an Antelope

SET 2: Halley's Comet > Tweezer, Bug, Fee, Harry Hood, We're Not Gonna Take It > Chalk Dust Torture

ENCORE: The Squirming Coil, Tweezer Reprise

Listen

As we’ve gone through the potential reasons for why parts of this tour have been so unsatisfying, I’ve mostly skirted the encroaching elephant in the room. That’s by design; I don’t find discussing Phish’s drug intake in this period to be particularly worthwhile or interesting, and beyond the general trend towards the bad place of 2.0, there’s not much we can say show-by-show without wild speculation. But there’s a phenomenon related to the mounting substance abuse that does spill over to the show itself – the increasing frequency of “party shows.”

I’d define these shows as those where the musical portion of the evening almost feels ancillary to the grander festivities happening backstage, outside of the audience’s view. And it’s not always a bad thing; the band has often described Fall 97, the gold standard of Phish tours, as essentially a month-long party where they occasionally went out on stage and played some (incredible) music. But it’s a risky approach in the long run, one as likely to produce unforgettable shows as shows we’d like to forget, And two years into the neverending party, its effects on the music are growing increasingly inconsistent.

I am not privy to any spicy anecdotes about wild nights on Long Island, but the circumstances of being back among their East Coast buddies at the end of tour strongly suggest some excessive fun was had. This closing weekend also has the shape of a New Year’s run, a four-show weekend in New York, if not precisely New York City. There’s even a Tom Marshall appearance, the second in less than three months. This time he’s portraying himself and singing The Who’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It,” which feels like confirmation of late-night escapades; there’s no real reason to do it aside from hatching a silly plan in the early morning hours after a few too many beers, etc. 

Whatever their intake this weekend, 10/8/99 neatly contains all the good and bad of the “party show.” It leads with the good, hitting the ground sprinting; unlike the meandering first sets of many Fall ‘99 shows, this one looks on paper like a night with two second sets. Piper didn’t open shows often enough in its slow-build era – it’s the ideal way to fan the flames of pre-show energy into an inferno – and when they dig into AC/DC Bag right after it’s a sign that they mean business tonight. But Bag’s Boise-like attempt at cowfunk revival doesn’t really stick, and the following Suzy has some awkward moments; 3/4s of the band is clearly trying to segue into Meat during Page’s solo, and the latter either doesn’t notice or refuses, obliviously playing right through it. 

They get to the Meat right after and cheekily follow it up with the most perfunctory Meatstick yet; no attempt at banter, just another member of the band’s extended family coming onstage to demonstrate the moves. A rushed Antelope later, and the band is already bowing, ending the first frame at 58 minutes. Chunky setlist aside, it’s hard to shake the feeling that they’d rather return to the backstage party, instead of spending time with their paying customers.

But whatever setbreak shenanigans took place teed up an excellent second set. The Halley’s > Tweezer might be the best improvisational segment of October 1999, though there’s not a deep bench to compare it against. Both jams avoid the tour’s familiar dead-ends, judiciously balancing the wall-of-noise solos and loopy bonanzas that have become predictable paths over the last month. And both land in deliciously weird, patient Siket-y spaces that the band has tended to speed by of late. Tweezer’s is particularly gratifying, a full 8 minutes of ambient jamming that recasts the layers of the Memphis 2001 in more abstract clothing. 

There are a few more awkward moments afterwards that suggests the band still isn’t fully in sync. At the end of Tweezer, Trey forgets that he already played Caspian the previous night, then teases Mountains in the Mist, before finally landing on Bug (a fine choice). And as with the first set’s sloppy-joe Meat, they’re not on the same page as to when they should start the vocals in Harry Hood. But with my weakness for rock operas, I can’t help but be charmed by Phish and “Tommy” Marshall doing the O.G.’s grand finale.

It’s a fourth quarter that papers over its flaws with energy and charisma, a party reaching its peak at just the right time. Still, that’s never a guarantee, and the “party show” benefits – bold setlist choices, comedic hijinks, a willingness to push past the obvious idea – risk being drowned out by sloppiness, impatience, and poor communication. Tonight, like most nights in 1999, Phish roll the dice and end up on the plus side of the equation. But it’s maybe not the best lesson to take forward about the ability to both party and perform; eventually, the luck runs out.