Starting around November 3rd, I spent a lot of time listening to the second set of 10/31/13. A lot more than I thought I would. In attendance at the show, I was, like many, initially a little disappointed to find out that we wouldn’t be getting one of the most cherished of Phish traditions, a Halloween cover set. But within a few minutes my disappointment turned into eager optimism and excitement.
I loved the jam in “Fuego,” I thought “Monica” was amazing. “Wombat,” obviously, was one of the more memorable Phish moments I’ve seen, just for the sheer absurdity of the event. Other than that, I remember enjoying it all (except Mike’s out of tune singing on “Snow”) but realizing that I’d need to listen more. Really, the most immediately striking thing about 10/31/13 for me was the monstrous “Ghost”>”Carini” in set 3. If there’s anything I’ve learned from my few years as a music journalist, or my many more as a musicologist, it’s that you need to listen to a piece of music multiple times before you can make any judgments on it. So listen multiple times I did.
Nearly two months later, I’ve internalized the entirety of Wingsuit (I still skip “Snow” most times. Sorry Mike, you’ve got to take that down a few steps). I know every lyric, I know all the changes, I’ve memorized certain solos. And I love it. I love all of it. I love the ethereal psychedelia of the title track, the blistering “Birds”-esque jam in “Fuego,” the catchy 60s pop of “Monica,” the floating otherworldliness of “Waiting All Night,” the Little Feat-cum-80s Dead New Orleans groove of “You Never Know,” Trey’s Neutral Milk Hotel wannabe “Amidst the Peals of Laughter,” and the dark funkiness of “555.” And as we prepare for yet another beautiful Phish tradition, the New Year’s Run, what I’m most excited for and grateful for in this incredible 30th anniversary year (other than the Tahoe Tweezer) is to hear what will happen to the Wingsuit songs over the next four nights, and then into the future.
See, the only way I know Wingsuit, the only way any of us know it, is in the barest bones version of each song. We know the basics of every tune, but we don’t know how the band will integrate the songs into the normal curvature of a Phish show. Placement means everything: “Seven Below” had potential when we heard it on Round Room, but we had no idea it would turn into a behemoth second set jam, as it did on 7/13/03 or 11/28/09. And of course, we don’t know which songs that were 5 minutes long on 10/31/13 might become 14 minutes on 12/30/13.
So here’s how I hope it goes down over the next four nights. By the time you read this, we’ll have probably already heard a few of the new tunes, and we’ll have plenty more to talk about.
“Wingsuit” was awkward as a set opener. With that melty, gooey quality to its opening chords, it’s far too mellow to open a set. But it’ll truly shine as a landing pad following a oversized set 2 opener. Like “No Quarter,” “20 Years Later,” or the many ballads that have filled the role over the years, “Wingsuit” will excel as the re-entry into our planetary orbit after the cosmic excursion of a “Tweezer,” “Carini,” or “Disease” set 2 opener. “Wingsuit” retains just enough of that psychedelic tinge to provide a perfect transition from deep space exploration to terrestrial endeavors. As a counter example, think of how inappropriate it felt to hear “Number Line” after the landmark 12/30/12 “Carini.” The conventional song form and peppy lyrics were an odd juxtaposition, to say the least. But throw “Wingsuit” after something like that “Carini,” and you’ve got a seamless thread between the unknown and the known worlds. Or how about a “Mike’s”>”Wingsuit”>”Weekapaug”?
“Fuego” could go anywhere in a show, I think, from set 1 closer to show opener, to mid-second set. More importantly, what will happen to the jam? On Halloween it was a lean 80 bars of fast 4/4, just 20 4-measure phrases, barely 2 minutes. The intense two-chord jam–one of the only instances of a Phish jam embedded, dare I say, like a Bisco jam into the middle of a sectional song–is almost like a cross between “Piper” and “Birds,” but if they are willing to stretch it out, it could truly be the fire of its name.
I have no idea what will happen to “The Line.” It’s probably in my lower tier of tunes from the album, even though I know many of you out there LOVE it. I think it’ll find its way comfortably into the middle of first sets, sandwiched between a “Divided” and a “Funky Bitch,” perhaps. And I don’t think it’ll really jam much more than it already has. But I’d love to be proven wrong.
“Monica,” on the other hand, is a song that I hope Phish, and Trey specifically, have big plans for. While I loved the day-glo bubblegum effect of the acoustic ensemble on Halloween, I think this song will rock when played with electric instruments. And I think Trey needs to grab it by the balls and shred over the changes following the little vocal breakdown. I hope that dear “Monica” doesn’t end up the next “Bouncin” or “Silent,” ending with a glorious bit of vocal polyphony but identical in every version. I hope she puts her fuckin wingsuit on and flies.
“Waiting All Night” will turn into a huge jam, I hope. I’d love to hear it grow some legs mid-first set, or even mid-second. Like “Wingsuit,” “Waiting All Night” could be a nice transitional tune after a huge set two opener. But its effervescent modal qualities will bode well for some further exploration.
“Wombat” is clearly going to wind up like many excellent funk vehicles, such as “Moma,” “Tube,” or “GBOTT,” placed in a first set somewhere. But like “Moma” and “Tube” occasionally used to do, and like “Wolfman’s” still does, I’d love to hear this expand in a second set placement. We didn’t hear a single melodic line from Trey during the Abe Vigoda dance section, or the follow-up exit music, on Halloween. Imagine what will happen if he starts laying down short melodic fragments on top of that chugging, off-kilter groove. Cuddly, but muscular!
“Snow” needs to change keys. Mike cannot sing it in its current range. This is what happens as you near 50. But if Mike sang it in his natural voice instead of falsetto, I could be very happy catching this about as often as I get a “Sleep,” “Driver,” or “Swept Away.”
“Devotion to a Dream” is the only bonafide set 1 opener on the album, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we see it assume that role on the finished studio product. Sounding sort of like an outtake from Hands on a Hardbody, the song has affinities to “Sample” and “Number Line,” but with a slightly Phishier feel to it. We’ll definitely be jamming out with big smiles to this one, often, in the future.
On the other hand, I think that “555″ has some serious set 2 jamming potential. They already proved this when they took it into a quasi-industrial noise jam that followed the same rising chord progression as “Tweezer Reprise” or every version of “Walk Away” since 6/17/10. And it was the only song that seemed to leap out of its structural bounds, the only one to go type II, before it landed comfortably in the gentle sway of the “Winterqueen.” I’m a huge fan of “Winterqueen,” and I think that like “Wingsuit,” and as it did on Halloween, “Winterqueen” will be another great late second set cooler, sort of like what “Thunderhead” did in 2003 (remember that song?), or what “Strange Design,” “Roggae,” and “Bug” often do. A nice fourth quarter rest before the set closing “YEM” or “Bowie” or “Hood” or “Slave.” But like “Bug” or “Roggae,” its jam isn’t just a throwaway. It carries its own weight.
“Amidst the Peals of Laughter” is one of those songs that I know Trey, and especially Tom, is really proud of. But I have no idea where it will go. It’s a song I imagine we’ll rarely hear, something in the vein of “Dog-Faced Boy” frequency. Finally, “You Never Know” doesn’t seem to offer a lot via jam potential, but that doesn’t mean that it has nowhere to go. Another first set tune, I could imagine hearing it as a closer following a big “Bowie” or “Antelope,” the post-closer closer. But I can imagine its groovy bounce opening a balmy summer show, too.
Like I said, by the time you read this, some of these will likely be proven totally wrong, and maybe I’ll have gotten a few right. Either way, as this 30th year of Phish draws to a close, we’re pushed up to the edge. It’s time to put our wingsuits on. ‘Cause it feels good.