"I think it is good to give it a break sometime," says Phish drummer Jon Fishman from his Burlington, Vt. home. "After four Halloween concerts where we did the musical costume, we're gonna take a break. Plus, [vocalist/ keyboardist] Page [McConnell]'s wife is expecting a baby, so we can't be out on the road."
In the meantime, Phish fans can gear up for the band's New Year's Eve show (sorry, no "musical costume" here, either) to be held at the Big Cypress Seminole Indian Reservation near Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. Due out Nov. 23 will be Hampton Comes Alive, a six-CD live boxed set recorded in 1998 by Fishman, McConnell, guitarist Trey Anastasio, and bassist Mike Gordon over two nights at Hampton Coliseum in Hampton, Va. The box will feature unreleased material and familiar songs as well a handful of covers, including Chumbawamba's "Tubthumping," the Beatles' "Cry Baby Cry," Gary Glitter's "Rock 'N' Roll Part II," and Stevie Wonder's "Boogie On Reggae Woman."
"We try to get in each lick," says Fishman regarding the band's cover version approach. "Initially, the idea was to learn a song beat by beat, then it evolves and becomes our own thing at a certain point by adding things here and there. Or maybe you are not obsessed with doing it note for note. But it is a good way to learn. It gets into your head and tells you how they would approach things. It takes a lot of focus."
Plans for the New Year's Eve show include an "electric rock version" of "Auld Lang Syne" and other surprises. One surprise Phish are guarding against is the recent spate of nasty altercations wherein bottle-throwing Phish fans charged riot control police. Near-anarchy has dogged shows in Normal, Ill. and Ames, Iowa. Blaming "lawlessness and drug use" as the culprits in numerous arrests, Ames police chief Dennis Ballantine said, "If Phish never come back, it will be too soon." Fishman tells it another way.
"There were riots in Iowa and Illinois, but the kids were provoked by the cops. It's pretty hard to imagine our crowd provoking anyone. They are a peaceful herd of people, as herd mentalities go. And we are not the kind of band that incites people to rip out the seats. Say we've played in 22 places and every gig was smooth as silk, so why in these two cities did this happen? Whose fault was it really? I will get in trouble for saying this, but nine out of 10 times the riots are started by the cops. In 90% of the cities we play we have a good relationship with police and they help us out. But in a couple places they get their own idea of how things are going to run and they start arresting people and getting in their faces. So the people get upset and feel that they are being threatened."
So how to alleviate concerns and prevent martial (or Indian) law from presiding at the Big Cypress Seminole concert ?
"I guarantee you this concert will be free of incident, because there won't be any cops there," replies Fishman. "Let me rephrase that. There are gonna be police there, but they are working within the bounds of the sovereign Indian nation. They are working with us and that will be a fine relationship, they are on someone else's turf. Our security will talk with them and come to some kind of understanding. We will all work together. In this situation the police are our friends."
Fishman might also recommend that irate Phish fans relax by partaking, as they have, in the Navajo Indian tradition known as the Oh Kee Pah Ceremony. Though Phish have changed the ceremony to suit their own needs, Fishman can relate the basics for the uninitiated.
"The Sun ceremony is a passage into manhood where they pierce your nipples and hang you from a tree for days until you have an out-of-body experience. We do it our own way with a meditative ritual, where we play for 10 hours or until we drop, just playing to the point where we can't get in the way of ourselves mentally. You play until your desire to analyze things as they are happening in any way is gone. You enter a state where you are only listening and reacting. That is how the Meat Puppets got their name. They felt that when they were doing their thing well, it took over. They were just puppets of the music. The instruments were playing them."
These out-of-body experiences have, at times, caused Fishman to lose control, grab the nearest vacuum cleaner, and jam the electrified hose device into his mouth, with all manner of unusual sounds escaping from his trembling head. These mouth solos appear on various bootleg recordings, but not on Hampton Comes Alive. The boxed set was a chance to give the fans two nights in the life of Phish, unedited and uncut.
"It's an unadulterated document of what we actually do live," says Fishman. "We had other live albums where we culled songs from different shows, but this is a two-night stand in Hampton Coliseum, the whole thing, warts and all. It was interesting for us to do that, we have to judge it as a fan would. We might have preferred to leave some of the stuff out, but we put it out unedited so people have a document of an entire Phish show. As a band we are always looking for the quintessential version of a song, but maybe that only exists in your own mind. Our favorite might not be a fan's favorite. We have to turn it over to fate."
In lieu of a Halloween show, intrepid Web surfers can download a Phish concert from the band's 1990 Halloween night performance at Colorado College. And at some point fans can look for albums from Phish side-projects Surrender To The Air and Pork Tornado. But regarding the two-day Big Cypress event, which Fishman says will be like "a three-ring circus with movable rings," Phish (and Fishman) are keeping their mouths shut.
"Surprises?" muses Fishman. "Oh yeah, sure. They can expect surprises. But if I tell you it won't be a surprise now, will it?"
