To put it all in words sounds kind of pretentious. "This spiritual aspect," theorizes bassist Mike Gordon, "is that there's something universal that exists and can come through the musicians and the music, if we're not blocking. "It's an intangible energy," attempts Trey Anastasio, the shaggy red-haired guitarist. Some fans cite the spiritual charge they get from a Phish concert, although the band itself espouses no religious mission or message.Īt best, the members of Phish offer awkward explanations for their cultlike following. Why? All Phish fans - be they suburban teeny-boppers or erudite college students, grimy homeless hippies or married-with-kids professionals - talk about the uplifting "vibe" of the band's live performances, the inexplicable "connection" they feel with the musicians, though they rarely address the crowd. That's more tickets than Jimmy Buffett, who established the record in 1987 more than such million-album-selling acts as the Spin Doctors, Kenny G, Pearl Jam and Mary Chapin Carpenter, all of whom have played Patriot Center in recent months. 8, the night after the Bethlehem gig, Phish broke Patriot Center's all-time attendance record, selling 10,356 tickets. MTV shunned their one and only video, from the latest album, "Hoist."Īnd yet: On Saturday, Oct. Radio deejays ignore them because their sound fits no format it's capable of roaming from dissonant classical to mellow bluegrass, from screeching rock to syncopated funk, sometimes in the same song. The Vermont-based quartet has never had a hit single or a gold album.
They've been together for 11 years, and touring the country for seven, but most of America has never heard of Phish. Hear now the tale of a band called Phish. Yes, rock-and-roll works in mysterious ways. "Pull me out of the net that they have laid privily for me: for thou art my strength," the psalmist wrote. The Gideon Bible on the hotel room dresser was already open and turned to Psalm 31, which was written "to the chief musician." Generally I don't consult Scripture, but that night after the concert I did. There I found a gentle, longhaired wanderer named Nazzarine ("Nazz" for short), who is among the many followers of a group whose symbol is a fish. It all sort of came together in the little town of Bethlehem, Pa.