College was a great time to experiment with such novelties as responsibility and studying. Ultimately though, it’s also a fine time in your life to experiment with music. For some, this leads to jam bands.
In the past, chances are you or someone you love has dabbled in Phish or Widespread Panic. Some of the hardcore among us might’ve tried some moe., eaten a little String Cheese Incident, swallowed some Leftover Salmon. (If you’re cleaning out your garage and come across a dusty old CD of the Disco Biscuits and can’t remember where you got it, you may have had a problem.)
When your child asks what you did in college, you may be at loss for an explanation.
A trip down memory lane is a good trip indeed. Arriving at a Phish show a few years back, I was surprised at its timelessness. There I was, the man who stepped into yesterday, having just re-entered my 1997 prime in 2019.
Clearly the Scene Remained the Same.
One can learn a lot from the Phish parking lot. All manners of life swim in and out of it.
It’s either his 10th show or 10,000th but he’s been a stalwart on the scene. As sure as Trey will hit a long, sustained hi-note, the Head will be ambling through the lot selling t-shirts, necklaces and things guaranteed to erase your memory of the next few hours. They are the hustlers and the entrepreneurs. The good, the bad, and the smelly. They keep the wheels of counterculture turning.
Deadhead or stir fry entrepreneur?
The Wookie is the darkside of the Head – those who’ve been swallowed on tour and want nothing more than the fix of another show. I once saw a Wookie dance barefoot in a pile of vomit. Yes, it’s revolting, but these are the tales you must tell your children so they don’t follow a similar path.
The Newbie stumbles in with wide-eyed innocence and the eagerness of a 17 year old. Usually because they’re 17 years old.
Girlfriends, wives, friends reluctantly dragged to the show, and 98.7% of America fall into this category. Good folks, most of ‘em..backbone of society.
Well, enough of my noodling solo here. The show was fun, and the memories were as thick as the smoke that hung like mosquito nets above the crowd. Ah well, time marches on…now where’s my Strangefolk album?