When Phish returned from their nearly five-year pause in early 2009, they arrived with a declaration tucked within their new original song, “Backwards Down the Number Line”:
The only rule is it begins.
The bouncy, soon-to-be Phish staple started its life as a birthday poem gifted to Trey Anastasio from his longtime creative partner Tom Marshall during the band’s seemingly definitive breakup, and first surfaced on the idyllic afternoon of July 6, 2008, when Anastasio, backed by Mike Gordon, debuted “Backwards” at the Rothbury Festival. By then, rumors of a potential Phish revival had already started to swirl and the new tune seemed to capture the wistful spirit of Phish’s forthcoming reunion. Later that day, Anastasio and Jon Fishman jammed with Gordon and his solo group and, soon after, The Vermont Quartet played together for the first time since 2004 at the wedding of longtime road manager Brad Sands.
Phish officially kicked-off three celebratory shows at Virginia’s Hampton Coliseum with “Fluffhead,” a fan-favorite left on the shelf for years. It was clear to everyone that Phish was ready to embrace their rich history while looking forward into the band’s “3.0 era.” Needless to say, the fans were ready, too—ready to embrace the band they shared and studied solely in the past-tense for so many years. “Backwards” was one of only a handful of debuts during the Hampton run and its inclusion felt purposeful. But it also begged an important question: “Where to begin?”
When Phish reunited, it quickly became apparent that they had not only influenced an entire generation of creative thinkers—from hipster-approved indie-rock musicians to chart-topping pop stars, comedic television celebrities to political pundits—but also that there was another generation of fans waiting in the wings, studying up to understand the nuance at the geeky heart of every Baker’s Dozen debut or bust-out. The cover line for our first post-reunion Relix interview with the band read “Older, Wiser, Geekier.”
And Phish were not a nostalgia act when they returned. During the current chapter of Phish’s forward-thinking modern period, they’ve continued to wink at preconceived notions of what it means for a band to honor its legacy, embrace their traditions, theatrics and their treasure-trove of songs while continuing to push themselves to record new music and explore new heights on stage.
All of which begs the question yet again, “Where to begin?”
My introduction to Phish’s music was likely similar to many Northeastern fans who discovered the band during the proto-Internet wonder years of the mid-’90s. I first heard “Fee” playing on a stereo at overnight camp in the Poconos, which led me to track down a recording of the quirky little tale about a weasel when I returned home—and then, ultimately, headfirst into the world of blanks-and-postage live show tape trading, rec.music.Phish research, and carefully annotated reads of The Phishing Manual and The Pharmer’s Almanac. I later wore out copies of The Phish Book, too.
Every rabbit hole I discovered opened up secret corners of the Phish catalog and an endless list of songs to chase, only further propelled when I started seeing Phish live. At various points in my own journey, I’ve placed different weight on the band’s technical prowess, freeform jams, and jukebox of covers while also trying to simply appreciate their shows as a great place to commune with friends, family, and other like-minded folk.
Now, that’s not to say that one couldn’t walk into a show or cue up a live recording or album and simply enjoy some classic American rock music, mind-melting improvisation, and instrumental virtuosity.
But there’s just so much more to appreciate for those who’ve done their homework. The more one invests in Phish, the more one is rewarded. It’s not lost on me that it took 40-something shows in more than a dozen states to finally hear the song that sparked my intrigue performed live—and all the more spectacular for it, though not without effort and investment.
Over the years, I’ve had several interview subjects, professional musicians, tell me that Phish taught them “how to be a fan.” Feeling deeply invested in a band’s story, Phish’s story, helped them learn how to cultivate a devoted audience of their own.
The Phish audience and fan base is devoted to say the least. And for new fans and returning vets, it seems there’s so many ways to approach and (re)discover this great band. As such, the question of where to begin may be moot, as answered in the lyrics of “Backwards Down The Number Line”:
You decide what it contains
How long it goes but this remains
The only rule is it begins
Here’s to new articles, new posts, and new books like this one for helping to lay out a bit of the number line that continues to unfold. The only rule is it begins.
—Mike Greenhaus
Editor-in-Chief, Relix
January 2018