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From todays NYT :
Trying to Fill the Void When the Monoculture Skips a Beat
By SHAILA K. DEWAN FOR THE NYT 10/17/00


Among the fauna to be found clustered around the box office at certain rock concerts there are subtle distinctions. And last night, outside the Beacon Theater on the Upper West Side, where Phil Lesh, the former Grateful Dead bassist, was playing, an expert would have been able to discern an uptick in one variety of tousle-headed, bead-hawking, parking-lot dweller: the Phishhead.

That's because last week, Phish, the Vermont jam rock band that more than any other took over the spiritual mantle of the Grateful Dead, abruptly began a hiatus of undetermined length. Their final concert, at the Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View, Calif., was on Oct. 7. After that, where was a fan to go?

The Phishheads in evidence last night were caught between disappointment and loyalty. "They've been working hard for a long time," said Robert Landry, 22, who had come from Kittery, Me., and decided to follow part of Mr. Lesh's tour. "So they're definitely entitled to a break."

By and large, the hippie-inflected fans are not inclined to vitriol. Dancing and sharing, especially in the form of bootlegged tapes, are encouraged by the band. But those who had spent the last one, three or five New Year's Eves at a Phish concert seemed somewhat lost (the band is expected to take at least a year off). Was there now a void in their lives?

"It hasn't set in yet," said Joel Sandler, 22, of Philadelphia, who said he was "a bum," but not proud of it. Noah Axe, 19 and, like both the band and his friend Mr. Sandler, on something of a hiatus, played it a little cooler. "Phish isn't the only band that Phish fans listen to," he said. He was thinking of checking out Cat Power. In a telephone interview with Cat Power, Ms Power stated : "If they don't pay they're not getting in, you cant pay the landlord by holding a finger up in the air." "We dont want them and we don't need them." "Our shows are already sold out". "Let them go follow Marianne Nowottny, she could use an audience."

"I found more purpose in my life than just following a band," insisted Dean Sottile, a chiropractor from Maywood, N.J., who wore a polo shirt and a windbreaker. "I really can't wait for them to come back, though." Asked what he would be doing come New Year's, Mr. Sottile, a Phish regular, kept a stiff upper lip. "I don't know. What's going on?" Phishheads, holding one finger aloft to signify that an extra ticket to see Mr. Lesh would be greatly appreciated, argued amicably over what, exactly Trey Anastasio, the Phish guitarist, had told a Las Vegas audience in his only public explanation of the band's break (please, don't call it a breakup). The relative merits of Widespread Panic, another jam band, were discussed in earnest.

But to some of those crowding the barricades last night, the news of Phish's disbanding was unwelcome for another reason: invasion. They complained that Phishheads mistake revolution for fashion and fail to display appropriate "family values," as Melisa Linton, a 22-year-old Deadhead, put it.

"Back then, if you needed a shirt, it was, here you go, brother, here you go sister," she said, giving a reporter a hug.

Another Deadhead said fretfully, "I'm afraid the kids might come to Furthurfest," referring to a music festival held by the surviving members of the Grateful Dead.

But two students from the State University of New York at Purchase seemed peaceful enough as they waited in line to get into the Beacon. One of them said his name was T. Roy. A young man with dark ringlets who said his parents had been Deadheads, he had found an upside to Phish's exit. "I play my own music," he said. "It might give us a chance to have a bigger crowd."

Although Phish has been around since the early 80's, their caravan of hand-to-mouth fans swelled after 1995, when Jerry Garcia died and the Grateful Dead broke up. Although connoisseurs will point out that the bands sound very different, younger Deadheads found the Dead's legacy in Phish.

Phish's hiatus, given little fanfare by its members, came at the height of the group's popularity. Without support from MTV and major marketing dollars, Phish has thrived, becoming the most successful of the new generation of radio-unfriendly jam bands.

"Once Jerry died, the scene just went whoomph!" Mr. Landry said, sweeping his hands upward, "because there were all these hippie musicians that couldn't follow the Dead anymore."


- bill 10-17-2000 5:32 pm [link] [1 ref] [3 comments]