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| Anti-Hippy During my junior year in college, I met a violin player who was in one of my classes. We got talking one day and he found out that I played guitar. He then asked me what guitar players I liked. For a moment, my eyes fell. There was only one answer to that question for me, and his name was blinking on and off in neon lights in the back of my head: Trey, Trey, Trey. Meet Ryan Everitt. If you haven't guessed it already, Ryan is one of the world's most ardent fans of Trey Anastasio, the red-haired guitar virtuoso in the band Phish. I expect you've seen a lot of Phish freaks in your day. And I'm betting that you're picturing a dreaded dude selling glass pipes and bottles of Sammy Smith Nut Brown Ale in the parking lot of Deer Creek Amphitheatre or the glassy-eyed dropout carrying a week-old puppy and looking for a "miracle" to get into tonight's show. Lucky for me, this is not Ryan. Ryan is my roommate of six months and about as "hippy" as Janet Reno. Ryan represents the forgotten Phish freak. He's not into drugs. He's doesn't do much drinking. And he would rather drop dead than barter puppies for tickets to a Phish show. Like many of us, Ryan just likes the sound of the band's music and is intelligent enough to know musical genius when he hears it. When NATN decided to publish a collection of essays on musical obsession, I considered writing about my own obsession with Phish. Unfortunately, I feel I'm too close to the image of the hippy kid in the parking lot to give a fresh and compelling look at the band's charms. Instead I offer you this interview, done mostly over email, with my roommate, who I feel is the antithesis of the Phish-head stereotype. In the end I think you'll see that he gives you the best idea of what it truly means to be a fan of Phish. NATN: To most Phish fans, there is no greater joy than seeing the band live. But on more than one occasion you've told me how you'd rather be at home listening to a taped concert than actually being at the show. Can you please explain this? Ryan: I agree that a Phish concert is very special thing, unlike any other musical experience. But the real joy with Phish for me is when I get to take that show home with me -- away from the from the hippy girls and frat boys who invariably distract me -- and really ingest the music. I'm only able to grasp the band's greatness when I've internalized every minute detail of the performance, every accidental harmony between (keyboardist) Page (McConnell) and (bassist) Mike (Gordon), every delayed climax of Trey, every subtle accent from (drummer Jon) Fishman. NATN: So would you be happy just to collect Phish bootlegs? I don't think I could really appreciate the boots without the experience of seeing the band live. What can be gained from listening to one show over and over and over? Ryan: One can never fully know Phish without seeing them live. The art of the moment, the energy of the crowd, the musical surprises heard as they happen. But I feel to limit your enjoyment to that is selling the band short. Repeat listenings at home will always be a greater joy for me than the smoky, crowded live shows because it allows for a true dissection of the music. NATN: Explain this to me. Ryan: Charlie Parker's saxophone playing, when first heard, could knock any jazz lover to his feet. And that is a commendable characteristic. But when his playing is studied and analyzed, when you begin to see his reinvented scales, his repeated and modified motives, his manipulation of chord-scale relationships, that is when his true greatness emerges. Now, I apologize for comparing Phish to Bird, but I do feel their are some similarities. Phish has developed very stylistic improvisational techniques, ways of playing off each other, and with each other, that are too subtle for most listeners to ingest on a first listen, much less while are you being jostled about by Mr. Dread Locks next to you. Do I always want to see Phish live? Without a doubt! Do I want that to be my sole means of understanding them? Never. NATN: Let's talk about the band's albums. Most people (myself included) think Phish's studio work is pretty sub-par. But you tend to see them in a different light. Can you explain why? Ryan: Good lord. Talk about the Phish albums? Quite a feat. Eight full-length studio albums (nine if you count the instrumental Siket Disc which until recently was only available by mail order), and each has its own feel and voice. I guess I look at the albums differently from other Phish fans. It seems the band's albums are always evaluated while a Phish bootleg is being played in the background, and I don't think that's fair. If you don't like an album, that's fine. But don't not like it because it's different from what you get at a show. These are two completely different media and should be viewed that way. Phish, or any band for that matter, is not an absolute, static thing, a thing that exists outside the venue in which it is presented. Remember Plato, and his absolute forms? I think he said something like, everything we see is a representation of an ideal form of that thing. And there are some better representations than others. Phish does not exist like this - seeing Phish live is not witnessing the band in its most natural, truest state. Neither is seeing them perform on Letterman, hearing a bootleg, or in the studio. Phish has no one single state where they are more true or natural. Phish has no center, no real Phish. The different mediums through which they play are not filters, or projectors through which we gain an understanding of the music. The mediums themselves are part of the music, and have a hand in shaping it. Therefore, it is wrong to evaluate everything Phish does in accordance with what happens on stage because that is just one medium. You may like Phish's live performances more, but always keep in mind that your opinion holds no bearing on what is "true Phish." NATN: I'm sorry, did you just reference Plato? Let's try this from another angle: Which is your favorite Phish album and why? Ryan: I hope you won't consider it a cop-out for me to say a few things about a few of them. I find it way too hard, near impossible, to speak of a favorite. Junta, their first studio release, is probably the most ambitious. So many genres evaded, so many styles touched upon but not fully realized. Trey is young and ambitious. His compositions make guitar gurus wince when approached with a request to reproduce them. But these songs aren't just flash. They are truly beautiful! And the diversity of the compositions is mind blowing! Compare the flowing diatonic arrangement of "You Enjoy Myself" to the atonal fugues of "David Bowie." The songs are light years apart, yet at the same time so closely linked by some strange anti-style.
I think it's pretty easy to understand my love for Junta. Fewer people are able to get my love of A Picture Of Nectar. It's the band's first major-label release and the most elusive of all their albums. The songs defiantly find themselves fitting into definable genres: jazz, bluegrass, calypso, Latin, etc. But I feel there is a certain magic to the album that holds it all together. It's like visiting a huge food court: so many flavors miraculously joined by the art of pastiche. Billy Breathes is probably the band's most beautiful accomplishment, perfect in tone and subtlety. They really broke through on this one, after not releasing a studio album for three years, and found a new voice, a new way to record albums. I read that Mike Gordon said he felt that the album really does breathe and I don't know if I can put it any better. I remember buying it one night in college, and then walking around campus with friends with it burning a hole in my backpack. When I finally got home around 1:00 a.m. and put it on, well, the first song, "Free," seemed the most natural and relaxed I had ever heard them. I got chills, my friends. The Story Of The Ghost is probably the most underappreciated of all their albums, at least in relation to its true merit (I won't ever hold an argument with anyone concerning the merits of Hoist). I think the band really hit on a good feel here, something that permeates the whole album, unifying it. It's really hard to articulate, as all aesthetic opinions are. But what can't be argued is the fact Phish branched out here, playing with new sounds, new ways of recording. That's what's great about the band. If you follow them over time, you can trace their musical interests and influences over time, their successive obsessions. And with an album like this, fans are rewarded for that kind of devotion. It's interesting that just before the making of Story, Phish covered the Talking Heads' Remain In Light, which undeniably served as a huge influence on this new sound. Phish had recorded hours of music in the studio, all improvised. They went back, reviewed what they had done, singled out segments that especially appealed to them or showed promise, wrote lyrics, sometimes recorded some overdubs, and finally, turned that improvised music into a completed song. A few of the songs on the albums are the actual improvised music, almost unaltered. Few bands have the talent, ambition or balls to write songs like this. Definitely no rock, indie, post-rock, emo, punk, lo-fi, or any other trendy category going around nowadays. NATN: You skipped the Siket Disc. Ryan: That album is so good, it makes me laugh. It is some of the greatest stuff Phish has put out and most casual fans don't know of it. When I first heard this album, I had been listening to a lot of post-rock - for lack of a better word - stuff. Tortoise, Don Cabellero, Euphone, etc. And when Siket came out, it was as if the band members were telling all those other bands, "Yeah, yeah. We do this stuff in our spare time." The Siket stuff is the stuff I wish Phish would put out more often, and would concentrate on. But I think the fact that this album exists makes a statement about their other material -- the material, which might be labeled as cheese dick. This disc shows they are capable of the complete opposite of cheese. The antithesis of sing-songy. Which means they are absolutely and totally aware of their cheesiness and they have total conscious control over what they put out. I admire any artist, performer or musician who lives in total awareness of the world around them, and their art's role in it. Phish holds no illusions that all of their songs are genius. It's a choice they make, and whether or not I like it, I respect it. NATN: It's obvious to me that you love Trey above all other members. Dare I ask you to explain why? Ryan: During my junior year in college, I met a violin player who was in one of my classes. We got talking one day and he found out that I played guitar. He then asked me what guitar players I liked. For a moment, my eyes fell. There was only one answer to that question for me, and his name was blinking on and off in neon lights in the back of my head: Trey, Trey, Trey. But I didn't answer with his name. "Uh, I don't listen to a lot of guitar players per se," which was true. "I like John McLaughlin a lot," which was also true. But this was not the true answer to his question, not by a long shot. So why didn't I tell him? Why didn't I profess my complete and utter devotion and amazement of this man's guitar playing? Maybe I was afraid of being lumped into the overbearing common perception of Phish fans. I don't want to be seen as someone who is more interested in the scene than the music: a person taken in and forever brainwashed into acceptance by the throngs of fans, never again being able to develop a true critical thought or judgment of the band. But I think it was something bigger, more frightening. It was the fear of this giant dark wave overtaking me -- a wave that would engulf me and inhabit my body, causing all sorts of overly dramatic, disgustingly emotional affirmations of my feelings about Trey to pour from my mouth. I could see myself beginning with his unbelievable dexterity and technical achievement, and then moving on to his distinctive, almost voice-like tone, which pops one moment, and mumbles the next. Then, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from moving on to his style -- and oh man, how I do need to get some sleep tonight! But I avoided all of that successfully, or so I thought. He then asked, "So how do you feel about Trey?" Good lord! I was sure he had looked into my brain and saw that neon sign blinking on and off! My eyes widened and my mouth opened, about to speak. "You know, the Phish guitarist," he clarified. "Yeah, I know him," I managed to get out. I took a deep breath and tried to hold back the dark wave. But it is all a haze today. I do remember mumbling something about silky smooth lines leading to perfectly timed climaxes. Yeah well, I don't think he took it the way I meant it and that was pretty much the end of the conversation. Now, years later, I believe I have developed some self-control about the subject. I have bored all my friends into exhaustion over the years with my mad rantings about Trey and Phish. I would take every opportunity to point out a subtle lick, an octave jump, or a smooth arpeggio. I could speak for hours on the man's patience, his musical discipline when a group aesthetic is on the line. I would talk of his playing as if it were a philosophy. A philosophy part artistic, part mathematical, part guts-out, heartbreaking intensity. It is a philosophy that dabbles in minimalism. Repeated motives, recycling themselves overtime, slightly altering until they become unrecognizable from the original. Parallels were being made to every musician from Coltrane to Don Caballero to Steve Reich. I mean, this man has redefined what the rock guitar solo can be, and he has made it his own. He shines so bright, it can hurt your eyes, and then at times, he dissolves himself in the music around him. The result is magical. It includes all aspects of music -- rhythm, harmony, melody, all melted together until you can't separate them in your head anymore, all four players becoming a monster steamroller of intensity, all driven secretly by the man with the guitar. Just step back from it. Take it as a whole, and it will flatten you. Oh god. I've done it again. Damn you, Trey. |
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| Discuss Phish with freaks much like yourself. We've started a discussion for people like you. Please join in and reveal the crowning achievement of your artist worship. |
| Both Hoosier transplants, Ben French and Ryan Everitt share a luxurious penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, New York. Their favorite pastime seems to be an on-going debate about the merits of Page McConnell's role in Phish. Ben is also the editor of this project. And he is right about the Page thing... The guy is a little light in the loafers. |
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