The Conjurers of Thunder

The Gods made themselves known yesterday in and around the grounds of the original Woodstock festival—and beyond, for that matter—as Tropical Storm Debby landed in the North East, pummeling the region with heavy rain and wind, and had some speculating about potential cancellations or aborted sets. None of that came to be in the end; Debby did not Do Bethel … but the Gods did Make Love. What kind of Love and Thunder are we talking about here? What went down as Phish kicked off their three-night stand in New York ahead of the Mondegreen festival in Dover? Read on, My Friend, and we’ll dig in.

The rain let up just before show time, the sun even taking a moment to poke out briefly as we rolled into the lot. “A good omen,” I explained to my friend. We had spent the drive down from Montreal reminiscing and speculating on what was in store, as one does. This was the first show we had seen together since a one-off at SPAC in 2016, and the first time we’d actually traveled together for a proper run, by our calculations, since Coventry—20 years ago now almost to the day. In that era, with every festival and numerous summer and holiday tours in the late 90s, we had lots of time to dissect together. Decades later, as dads and with an ocean between us this was more of a rarity, so we relished the opportunity to dig in, revisit recent jams (and some old ones), check out the Billy Strings sit-in (more on that later), and compare notes.

“First Tube” kicks things off as the show opener instead of its more familiar closer or encore spot, as it did back in Mexico on 2/22/24. A sign of things to come? I thought it worked well here as a warmup to get the crowd and the band going alike. It’s a somewhat unique version too, as Trey in the second half takes it into a less familiar non-distortion-laden peak, and instead offers a cleaner tone with a Disease-like jam. Nothing you’d be out of mind about out of the gate, but he strings some impressive notes together very nimbly, running up the finale, in a way that he would continue to do all night, with increasing dexterity. This guy is turning 60 next month, folks!

“No Men In No Man’s Land” follows in the two-slot, one my buddy and I had earlier flagged as likely to appear, “exposed to all the elements, while inside all is clear.” And they take it out for a ride. At this point the show is starting to echo the first set from the first night in Bethel last time they were here in 2022—with a “Golgi Apparatus” that featured a brief hitherto unforeseen mini-jam, before a fabulous fifteen-minute “Sample in Jar” took things even further. (If you’re not familiar with that jam, I highly recommend checking it out. Alright back to 2024..) Trey and his no men friends sound energized and genuinely happy to be here with us in no man’s land—and with each other, for that matter. Three quarters of the way into the No Man’s jam it becomes apparent that they’re listening closely to each other, and that Mike especially is not feeling shy about taking up space, challenging Trey and either keeping him in place or pushing him further afield. (I hear a brief echo here of the “Crosseyed and Painless” from Bethel ‘22, as well, another gem worth seeking out for its own merit, if not to provide further context for this night’s affair.) Trey and Mike lock into the first of many call and response motifs that would serve as anchors and launchpads alike for fantastic jamming all night. This feeds into a finale that sees Trey absolutely shred the shed. Don’t skip out on this 15 minute feast in the shadow of the rest of the night’s gems (which abound), as it’s the first clear sign that “we've broken free, [and] something has changed / A tear in the fabric, some tiles rearranged.”

Trey gives his signature fist pump after the song, a sure sign he’s feeling it and that we’re in for a treat. “Welcome everybody, welcome, thanks for being here, man!” he remarks before firing up “Cavern” to extend the welcome, which works nicely early in the show here. Some astute speculation from my friend that it was also a nod to the fact that Trey had to stop and tie his shoes as they were starting up the previous song (listen for the guitar dropping out briefly at the start of “No Man’s” to confirm, if you like).

The old school vibe continues with “My Friend, My Friend”, but the tone is very 2024 as Trey is clearly keen to extend this one as they have somewhat consistently since 7/14/23 in Alpharetta, and mostly recently at Alpine Valley on 7/26/24. For those keeping time, this 18-minute version looks to be the longest to-date, and I’d argue, the most interesting. The jam starts crunchy as you might expect, down-tempo and gnarly. Trey flirts with a Low Rider riff that quickly morphs into a Fuego quote, but no one lingers long. Fish is stepping in and hooking up with Mike, who continues to shine, and indeed may have earned MVP for me on this night, which is saying something considering how strong everyone’s playing was.

On the drive down I discussed with my friend what kind of impact we might see on these shows as a result of the Billy Strings sit-in, as we listened. I’d argue there were multiple effects on display on this night, but one of them for me had to do with Trey rediscovering his original dueling buddy. My Friend Mike, My Friends. This jam has multiple sections to dig into, one of which is an echo of the “skynet robo funk” (nod to @funkycfunkydo) that first showed so much promise on 4/23/23 in LA. Indeed this show here started to remind me of that 2023 high point, with a spectacular 18 minute jam in the first set (that would be the “Cities” from 4/23), and a very innovative jammy second set that never really lets up. In any case, the robo-funk morphs into a more familiar 98-style cow-funk section and then smoothly to a notably bluegrassier final segment. And given this is 8/9, indulge me for a second and recall if you will Jerry Garcia speaking in an interview in “Long Strange Trip” about his early musical influences—how he speaks about how important bluegrass was to him because it was the first time he realized what it meant for musical voices to be “in conversation.” Whatever you think about Trey bringing Billy up on stage for two nights—much the way Carlos Santana did for him in 92, as he remarks recently on the WTF podcast with Marc Maron—the new life it injected into the band was clearly evident tonight. The final few minutes of this jam, complete with false ending, have come a very long way indeed from the gnarly MFMF and his wife—no “Myfe.” “What the hell was that?!” Trey remarks, appropriately. “I gotta regroup after that one! Hi everybody! That was weird. I know we’re gonna be here for three days… why not?”

Much of the rest of the rest of the first set felt like regrouping, in some ways, but it’s hard to find a complaint with the soulful “Bug,” or the very clean and punchy “Julius,” and the unexpected and rare late first set “Also Sprach Zarathustra”. I thought the “Taste” was the only first set piece that didn’t quite live up to the high quality of playing. And while my friend and I somewhat unfairly malign “Character Zero” as a running gag between us, the band loves playing it, and it brought the set to close with plenty of enthusiasm.

Set break was one of the shortest I think I’ve ever experienced, and many folks were scrambling back to their seats as the band casually strolled back out and fired up “The Wedge.” I had called a “Tweezer” out the gate, but my friend earlier in the day had suggested we might get a “Wedge” tonight. “There’s your Wedge,” I proclaimed, to which he responded “I could see a ‘Wedge>Tweezer,’ actually.” I guess we were both right? In any case, this “Tweezer” starts off incredibly patient, Mike again leading the way as Trey is content to stick to rhythm for a long stretch—something that rarely yields poor results, as it gives the rest of the band time to establish proper groove and texture. If you’re like me and have had mixed feelings about some Trey’s playing and the jamming tropes these past couple years, I recommend giving this show a proper listen for what’s possible when that comfort zone is pushed. Page really starts to step into things with this “Tweezer” and shines throughout. Beautiful melodic patient stuff by around 8 minutes and then some expansion and contraction. Trey finds a riff he wants to repeat that risks becoming a crutch, but instead layers effects and the rest of the band challenges and engages, and they deconstruct it into weird territory. Your mileage may vary with this stretch between 10 and 15 minutes, but everything is used sparingly and it never feels dull. Again we witness a transformation in sound from gnarly effects to jazzier riffs and then onto southern charm, and suddenly we’re in an Allman Brothers’ like jam, with Page echoing Trey’s lines, another recall from the Billy sit-in. The band is in lock-step here as the jam approaches 20 minutes. They bring it back cleanly to the Tweezer to close and then fire up the “Pillow Jets.”

“Pillow Jets” follows a similar trajectory as the “My Friend, My Friend” initially, with an evil, down tempo effects-heavy foundation. They could have just done this for 10 minutes and I would have been satisfied, but at 8 minutes Trey is possessed and pushes the band (with Fish only too happy to oblige), into the fiercest attack-mode I think I’ve heard him in since 25 years ago in Holmdel on 7/15/99 coming out of “Split Open and Melt.” You want a little Summer 99 frenzy to go with your bluegrass? Look no further than this jam folks, which may be the show’s highlight. A thought I had today about Trey, while going for a run and a swim to decompress: It’s one thing to be able to attack that way while you’re partying in your mid-thirties. But you want to be able to play this way when you’re 60? Sobriety is a much better formula. Or at the very least some serious discipline and moderation. I don’t know about the Gods, or Jerry, but it sure felt like the Ghost of Hendrix was present at this point.

A very smooth transition back into “Tweezer” pleases the crowd—this is no gimmicky Tweezerfest—before a funky riff breakdown yields to a buttery full segue into “Piper.” They’re playing with house money at this point. I could go on and try and do justice to the “Piper” jam that I’d argue would stand up confidently next to some of those versions from 20 or 25 years ago in 04 and 99, respectively. Or how poignantly placed and perfect the “Shine a Light” was here, the only breather of the set, if you can call it that. Or how quickly and smoothly the band dropped into more fabulous Type II in the 13 minute set-closing “Chalk Dust Torture.” The fact is I need to eat some lunch, send out this recap, and get ready for Night 2, and you’d be better served by just listening to the whole set front to back. It’s a keeper.

If I had any notes to offer that would have put this show over the top, it might be the somewhat schizophrenic encore. But pairing “Big Black Furry Creatures from Mars” with say, “Sabotage” as a nod to MCA (who also would have turned 60 this year, on August 5th) would have been too much to handle on Night 1. The “Gotta Jibboo,” though odd in the moment, was deeply enjoyable. And “More” promised us we indeed had two more shows on deck.

So with that I’ll sign-off and get myself ready. Wherever you are out there reading, may the Good Lords in the sky shine a light on you. Or better yet, a little Love and Thunder.