Bear Creek Music and Art Festival 2011 Spirit Of The Suwannee Music Park Live Oak, FL

I am supposed to be on a writing hiatus of sorts, but after recovering some of my brain capacity following this weekend, I felt obligated to put down something about what transpired in Live Oak.

Design by Ariane B. Davis

The fallout of a gargantuan music event such as the Bear Creek Music & Art Festival would be nearly impossible to articulate into a comprehensive review for this writer. The sheer amount of world class talent and deep top-to-bottom scheduling literally makes for a whirlwind experience that requires sacrificing an ear for an ear and gambling on the greater of two greats. That is all before the artist start randomly collaborating and playing statement sets like the hump date 11.11.11 may be an actual end of the world party. For me, this event was made even more blissfully chaotic because it is a home state event that literally claims the weekend for a majority of the cult of music fanatics I run with these days. With that being said, a decision to offer up a top five type scenario is about as much as I could do while I continue to let my endorphins, neurons and ear drums recover from over forty-five hours of music in two days and three nights. Call it a cop out, but it's all I got for you.

1. Medeski, Martin & Wood
My (un)healthy obsession with the best funk-fusion trio ever put me in front of the Purple Hat Stage for my 52nd chance to catch the boys from New York City. Anticipation and a certain measure of angst coupled with giddy excitement. It had been a long stretch since my last time sharing time and space with John, Billy and Chris. This was partly on purpose due to my last show with them being the last music experience I shared with a good friend that was slain in the school shooting at my alma mater Virginia Tech. As if knowing exactly what transmissions my neurons might need, the set took the form of a retro throw back approach with my favored selections from my favorite of their albums. The mind bender mutated into ridiculous collaborations with power players like Will Bernard and Stanton Moore. It really does not get much better than that.  Ok, yes it does, how about a ridiculously jammed out "Where's The Music" with Pee Wee Ellis.  

2. Medeski, Scofield, Martin & Wood
How do you turn perfection into something better? Try adding in a guitar demi-god. How do you make perfection with a deity even better? Bring out one of the best lap steel guitar players in the business for an epic version of the eerie anthem "Hanuman." It helps that this is one of my favorite tracks ever put forth by the trio, but in the context of the infamous Big IV Amphitheater Stage, as the night enveloped the music park, the quintet truly hit some ethereal levels of bliss.

3. Trey Anastasio Band
My affinity for all things Phish place this set as a default must-see, but in the past I have not been entirely overwhelmed by Trey's solo efforts. The supporting members are extraordinary, that is for sure, but the material doesn't always hold up through the lens of comparisons to the Vermont jam legends. All of that went straight out the window from note one, and the full two hours and thirty minutes from Trey and the crew were nothing but a feel good dance party with more high lights than I could count. Above and beyond all other moments was a perfectly executed "Simple Twist Up Dave." My cohorts and I silently raged as a homage to our friend David that passed away days previous to that night. He was the ultimate Phish fan and the harmonious scents, sounds and setting at that particular moment was a much needed therapeutic outlet. One of the many reasons we all love Mr. Anastasio.

4. Papadosio
The talk of the town in the festival circuit sphere for those inclined to live electronic music, these guys have earned every bit of success coming their way. All summer they slayed the big events, even having a clutch spot at AllGood Music Festival, and the feedback was overwhelmingly good from that point on. I made the six hour drive up on Thursday solely to catch a late night P-dose set in the SOS Music Hall with my pals from Virginia. I then woke up early the next "morning" to catch their day set. In truth the approach seemed inverted with a more laid back, experimental take on the late night show, and then a all-out high energy face melter during the day. I posit that the 11.11.11 date was grounds for a statement set on Friday afternoon that didn't take into account anything other than playing one of the best shows I have heard from the Ohio kids. 

5. Anders Osborne Trio
Beyond the obvious shredding capacity that Osborne has been proving over and over to me the past year, this festival performance seemed to have a much fuller feeling than before. It may be a case of set and setting, as is the reality with anything that happens at The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park, but even his staple tunes like "Cortez The Killer" seemed to go deeper and heavier into the void. The push over the edge was a sit in with George Porter of the Funky Meters that turned into an epic cover of "Sugaree" with Stanton Moore of Galactic (and a million other bands) on the drums. Jaw replacement surgery would have been necessary if only we could have found our faces.

I could go on and on and this is just the tip of the iceberg, but those that were there already know, and those that weren't should make sure they are there next year to find out.

Honorable Mentions: The New Mastersounds, Soulive, Dr. Klaw, Big Gigantic, Dopapod and Michael Menert.

A huge special thanks to Adam, Mark and Steve at Cheesehead Productions, and Taper Steve, for archiving this special moment in music history.  

Soulive 2011.10.06 University of Miami Maurice Gusman Concert Hall Miami, FL

Marked only by a slight drop in temperature, the Fall season in South Florida is made official when the music climate changes on the peninsula. The weeks before and after Bear Creek Music Festival are saturated by the best and brightest of the jazz, funk and fusion scenes starting and ending runs up and down the state. This year the groove gods brought us an decadent sample of things to come. New York-based Soulive came to the flagship academic institution of Magic City, the University of Miami, after a self-proclaimed "rager" in Chicago on the first of the month. The globe trotting power-funk trio continues on from here to Sedona, New York City and Boston.

Soulive | Maurice Gusman Concert Hall

 The uber-plush Maurice Gusman Concert Hall, housed at the Frost School of Music, had an almost academic pre-lecture vibe before the show. The crowd of sleek suited-up socialites and casual funk enthusiasts made for an interesting, if not subdued, scene. That would quickly change. 

Eric Krasno of Soulive | Maurice Gusman Concert Hall

A "Uncle Junior" opener came right out of it, both strong and tight sounding. They were playing for the music school figure heads and funk addicts alike. Heads were bobbing from the tops of seats, yet there was a general hesitation to attract too much attention in the seemingly cordial auditory expose. The energy coming off Eric Krasno's guitar had other thoughts, and it was contagiously spreading to a few adventurous souls. They moved to the aisles to dance on the fringes of the theater.  That slowly built into a full on dance party in the floor section in front of the stage. Security did not seem to mind and that is how things remained for the duration of the show.

Soulive | Maurice Gusman Concert Hall

After a couple hoppin' originals - "Rudy's Way" and "Turn It Out," the Hammond B3 organ extraordinaire Neal Evans was given a chance to take the reigns for a series of Beatles covers from the band's 2011 release Rubber Soulive. Think Beatles porno funk executed better than you thought it could be done. A particularly reaching "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" ended the medley before dipping into Stevie Ray Vaughn's discography with "Lenny." A quick pause and it was back on track with originals. A hornless rendition of "Flurries" proceeded "El Ron," and a set closer of  "Tuesday Night Squad" that allowed Krasno to flex his technical guitar tones to the max.

Soulive | Setlist for 2011.10.06

The crowd was visibly elated and vocalizing their praises. As quickly as they moved off the stage, the guys were back for an extended encore. Alan Evans broke the rhythm section down during "One In Seven" and launched into an explosive drum solo that left the crowd silent. As the band fed back into the outro, there was a heavy silence before a standing ovation for the funksters while they bowed out.

Following the show the Cheesehead Productions crew caught up with the band for an on-site interview. Check out our very own Travis Acker leading the discussion here: 

Soulive is coming back to Florida for Bear Creek Music Festival, The BondFire Arts & Music Festival and JamCruise 10.

High quality videos of the show courtesy of the good folks at Cheesehead Productions. 

Interview with Dave Macklovitch of Chromeo - Barcode Magazine - September 2011 Issue

Last month I connected with Dave Macklovitch of the electrofunk super duo Chromeo to discuss their upcoming show in Miami. Beyond being a very interesting guy to talk to, he managed to point me in the right direction for how to approach the mission Chromeo set out to do. Click the image to check it out.

 
 

Buckethead 2011.09.22 The Culture Room Fort Lauderdale, FL

Reposted from the NewTimes Broward/Palm Beach.

Live: Buckethead at Culture Room, September 21
By Adam Smith Thu., Sep. 22 2011 at 8:48 AM Comments (2)
Categories: Concert Review, Last Night Share 0digg

Buckethead
With Lynx
Culture Room, Fort Lauderdale
Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Better than: Buckethead on Guitar Hero.

The enigmatic, avant-garde metal guitarist Buckethead came out to a nearly sold out crowd for the mid-week billing at the Culture Room. Sporting the staple KFC bucket on his head and expressionless mask over his face, the one-man show is a spectacle even before the first note is played. Accompanying him on stage is a screen displaying a low budget Japanese film about fighting robots, his signature Gibson Les Paul and a slew of effect and pedal boards. A backtrack provided a heavy instrumental medley to which the six-string slayer wasted no time in beginning a session of speed fingerings and experimental precision. The testosterone-inclined crowd was packed into the room, and they stood in awe while wave after wave of flawless solos gave way to dark breakdowns and oddly arranged song structures.

Photo by Adam Smith

There are no choruses, no vocals and certainly no cheap thrills. Having over 34 solo albums and 50 more collaborative efforts, Buckethead truly has nothing to prove beyond being one of the few artists that can entertain a room for nearly 90 minutes simply by flexing his superior ability to manipulate a guitar, remix classic thrash riffs and get away with breaking out pop 'n lock maneuvers to unlikely rock anthems. He caters towards the bizarre, and oddly enough it was not surprising when he set down his guitar to pass out presents to audience members. Of course this all went down while the '90s alien-athletics anthem "Space Jam" blasted though the PA.

Half way through the set, the fretboard looked like it might not be able to take many more mutations of rock dogma featuring the likes of "Foxy Lady" and "Crazy Train." Mitigating the problem for the show-off was simple, he switched axes and picked up a bass guitar. An extended deep funk solo followed that got the crowd riled up. The beauty of the gesture being that even his secondary weapon never hits an awkward moment of repetition. The clinic in how to be a virtuoso came and went much too quickly. Although the prospect of disappointment would usually come with skipping out on returning for an encore, this time around it seemed to be a genuine act reinforcing the character that is Buckethead.

Critic's Notebook

Random Detail: He is very fond of our state's theme park Disney World, and wants to be buried there. Not sure how Walt would feel about that.

The Crowd: Almost entirely male and very attentive to every note played the entire set. For a metal show there was surprisingly not much in the way of movement besides the occasional light head banging.

Overheard: While the roadie plugged in a guitar, "Tune it or die!"

Chromeo 2011.09.20 The Fillmore Miami Beach at Jackie Gleason Theatre Miami Beach, FL

Chromeo | Photos by Tracy Block

Last night the new blue-eyed soul duo Chromeo brought their Canadian talents down to South Beach for a night of pendulum hipstering and mid-week dance partying. After a heat filled warm up with Mayer Hawthorne, Dave 1 and P-Thugg started putting the dance hall in Hall & Oates-flavored flare by tossing thick synthetic textures of modern electronic beats into a blender of sex and appeal. The result was a fast paced set of greatest hits, deep cuts and goofy throw back tunes. Highlights took form in renditions of flagship tracks like "Fancy Footwork," "Tenderoni" and "Don't Turn The Lights On."

Chromeo | Photos by Tracy Block

A particular nice break away from the studio version norm came during "When The Night Falls" that got the crowd pulsing to the sub driven beat. The boys flexed every keyboard, vocoder, loop and drum muscle before wrapping up just around midnight with "I Am Somebody," an ode to the recently fallen DJ Medhi (RIP). A fittingly cheesed up encore of "Grow Up" was a mix of smiles and noodling dance moves with intentions to leave it all on the floor. The much anticipated return to Miami by the band was a feel good shake down that is a reminder of why these guys are still alive and innovating in the current music environ.

Chromeo | Photos by Tracy Block

Side note: Correct me if I am wrong but it sounded like Dave 1 was teasing the Rick Ross calling card nomenclature sample "Rossss" during Bonafide Lovin' - giving the Magic City reppin' rap don a proper nod. Nice!

Theophilus London at The W Hotel | Reptar at Bardot 2011.07.28 Miami, FL

W Hotel Flyer

Miami was calling this past Thursday night and I was ready to answer the stacked lineup of young up-and-coming artists showing off their stuff in the Magic City. Despite a hot iron fiasco and a hidden wallet, my +2 at the W Hotel's 2nd Anniversary party made it into WET with enough time to exercise our open bar bracelets. Global music director Michaelangelo L'Acqua had really done his homework in selecting rising hip-hop name Theophilus London to provide the entertainment for the warm summer evening. A brand new album, an appearance on Kimmel and an upcoming tour with Big Boi in Oz are just a few things going on in the life of the brand smart rapper. We were on Miami time, so the music didn't kick off until after 10PM, but he jumped right into it with a medley of electro pop-hop tracks that showcased his aptitude for catchy beats and decrying lyrics. The venue was a beautiful pool surrounded by perfectly grown palms and over the top cabanas. The only off piece of the perfect setting was a lacking PA system that just wasn't cutting it for Theo's smooth flow. Beyond that, we had a time grooving in the to overtly funky instrumental undertones as we sipped palliative Canadian whiskey.

 From a poppy "Love Is Real" as the set opener to other noteworthy tracks from Time Are Weird These Days, including energetic rockish anthem "I Stand Alone" and bass line driven "Why Even Try", the set covered all the bases. The crowd seemed some what confused, or perhaps apathetic, but this did little to dull Mr. London's onstage antics and off kilter dance moves. I admired his confidence and vowed to catch him in a more presentable room that would bring out his entire sound.

 My outlandishly dressed cohort on this particularly evening has an even more questionable music addiction than myself. That being said, we were not satiated enough to head back North. Instead a plan made earlier in the day went into action, and the next stop was Bardot for an intimate show with Atlanta youngsters Reptar. Previous exposure included a single YouTube video and jokes about their nomenclature's ode to a childrens cartoon monster from the show Rugrats. The place was packed from the bar to the couches with just enough hipsters for comfort. Luckily the band took it upon themselves to wait for us to get there before starting the set. The next 90 minutes would encompass one of the more powerful auditory experiences I have had in recent history.

I stood amazed, in between swift dance moves, as I witnessed pure, unadulterated energy push from the five boys playing way beyond their years. The crowd didn't seem to be in tune with what they were witnessing, but much like Theophilus earlier in the night, this did little to dissuade them from dropping a full out dance rock attack on the Miami club. Front man Graham Ulicny was doing his best to flex charisma as his stuttered, yet fitting, vocals shifted between low moans to high pitched yells. Keyboardist William Kennedy held nothing back as synthesizer waves bounced around the room as much as he did behind the rack.

A tight knit rhythm section with an accentuated percussion element rounded out the building tension abilities and overall feel good cavorting. I really can not say enough about these guys other than the quality of the product is right on, and I am buying. In this case I will admit that words are limited in describing the fresh yet familiar sound Reptar captures, so I will for once let the music speak for itself. If you don't believe me, then maybe you should pick up their album Oblangle Fizz Y'all - the first CD I have purchased in over four years.

Phish: Southern Run 2011 - Charlotte, Raleigh and Portsmouth Pt. 2

Part 2: Charlotte, NC to Raleigh, NC.

I was still on corporate time and awoke before the rest of my roommates. The room was eerily quiet and everyone seemed to be in a deep sleep. The fringe of the window curtains allowed for a border of natural light. I took advantage of being the first to rise. The luxury of a hot shower on tour is never underrated. Especially when you get to go first and there is more than a hand towel left. I indulged and came out feeling like a new man before sneaking down to the continental breakfast. Unfortunately the droves of Phish fans had wiped out the entire buffet except for a to-go box worth of home fries. I sweet-talked the gal at the breakfast bar to look for some juices in the back to contribute to our smoothie operation. She gifted me with a handful of pineapple and I returned to the room to find everyone was hungry and ready to polish off the fried potatoes in record time. Somehow this only constructed a deeper appetite and group-think took us to the nearest Cracker Barrel.

The 3 hour drive East on i-85 is pleasant and a nice change of pace from my Floridian residency. I was attracted to the Southern mountains enough to spend 5 years living here for school and I was now being reminded why I made that choice.  The scenic dose was over before feeling too long and we found ourselves at Boom’s new place in Raleigh by mid-day. Luckily the apartment was spacious because his pad would be home for about eleven of us tonight. I enjoyed the concept of not having to do much of anything all day and decoded the problem of boredom with craft beer and roast beef sandwiches. Tonight we were rolling deep and by 4 PM all the crews had arrived from around the region. The idea of employing a limo or party bus was met with enthusiasm until we all realized we didn’t necessarily care enough to wait for that to happen.

Phish Lot in Raleigh 

The Time Warner Cable Music Pavilion at is tucked into a forested park that is carved out for pods of parking lots. The number of ticketless in the group doubled since the previous evening so it was priority 1 to lock down anything that could be found. Luckily a fellow Floridian called me over and dumped two lawn seats on me for a more than reasonably price. Before heading out to explore the other lots we put a hurting on a case of beer and filled the flasks to the brim.

The crowd seemed to be migrating to particular location so we decided that might be worth checking out. Our curiosity paid off and we came upon a thickly populated stretch of vendors haggling with hundreds of fans. It was impressive to say the least. We make our way down one of the perpendicular rows and I caught sight of my buddy from home doing his best to sell t-shirts. He said business was good and we traded notes about Charlotte before I had to meet up with some stragelers I was holding on to tickets for. The lines to get in on the right and left entrances were backed up for a hundred yards. Oddly enough the main entrance in the center was less congested.   

Manny at work. 

The warm day was gone and a cool temperature drop via a wave of storm clouds was welcomed but did not bode well for keeping dry. The wind started blowing and the sun was blocked from view. I dropped my wallet and phone into a zip lock bag. I was certain we were going to get dumped on. As if by some sort of weather miracle the rain never came but the temperature stayed in the lower range. I counted this as a blessing after seeing footage of the horrifying storm that had hit the Alpharetta show earlier in the week. We quickly found a spot in the center of the lawn just as the boys took the stage.    

Cars Trucks Buses was a solid warm up that always makes me feel funky enough for comfort but in a very light sort of way.  It was sufficient to get the large crowd settled down and my feet ready to groove.  Once the attention was focused on the stage they wasted no time and launched into a decent rendition of Peaches En Regalia. What made this noteworthy beyond being Peaches was that November 22^nd, 1992 was the last time they had opened a show with two instrumental songs. The trio of 1^st set opener worthy tunes came in the form AC/DC Bag. The motley crew I was a part of grew to its full capacity at this point and we were as barefoot as pirates armed with over sized beers.  AC/DC Bag took the pace up a notch and peaked into a wonderful early evening guitar and organ duel before inching into every Phish’s fans favorite swine anthem Guyute. After working out the initial kinks the composed section lead through many steps that featured near flawless work by Fishman while Trey and Page struggled to connect at times.  By the time the dark road race movement dropped, the band was finally hitting the starts and stops lead by Fishman’s rolls and Trey coming over the top of peaks. Page was right on his heels. Even up on the lawn the notes rang out beautifully from the hollow body Languedoc to Page’s organ.  The Peaches tone seems to be in the same vein as parts of Guyute so I could see the connection in this pairing.

Now, we are in the South, the birthplace of American rock greats like The Allman Brothers and countless bluegrass legends. That being said, it was only a matter of time before we got to the get-down-at-the-ho-down genre. Although arguments for it being extremely overplayed have been thrown around all Summer Tour, Possum came at a perfect time in this set and the energy stacked on stop of itself as Mike skillfully dropped a series of well crafted bass lines that captured the pavilion and lawn in a net of grooving. Trey slowed the momentum at each turn similar to noteworthy versions this tour, but quickly abandoned this strategy for a peak and rock technique.  I guess you can only be so creative with a song when you play it over half a dozen times in the first leg of a tour. At the time it felt a lot more fulfilling than on the recording. Earlier in the day a cohort had mentioned that he wanted to see Halley’s Comet not only feed into a wonderful segue, but to also stand on its own in an extended jam before launching into the track that follows. The mood for making selections come true without the use of a pesky sign was in full effect and he got what he wanted, plus some! From the vocal intro until landing safely in 46 Days the nearly 8 minutes of funky bliss was easily one of the set and show high lights.  Trey decided he would pull out his metaphorical ax and cut the directionless jam in a familiar yet awkward fashion. It is not that the argument against Trey is necessarily unjustified when it comes to pushing into the next song, but the real quip is the amount of grace, or lack there of, that seems to go into this shady segue method. 46 Days quickly caught legs and took off into a Anastasio shred fest layered on top of screaming organs and building drum stutters. Vocal yells only instigated a rise in tension. Jams like this are what make seeing Phish in an open-air venue so wonderful. The crowd was bouncing sporadically and looks ranged from bliss to awe during the second wave of peaks. The Divided Sky was standard and on point. The clouds above were splitting in fragments and combined with a wonderful Southern sun set that brought the temperature down along with it. I was in my element. Having been born in Georgia and educated in Virginia the 4 years previous, so I couldn’t help but take down a few sips of whiskey from my flask as a tribute to Skynyrd when Page started into The Ballad of Curtis Loew.  The combination of being with old college friends and finally settling into a tour routine resulted in my advanced level of inebriation by the time Run Like An Antelope rounded out the set. I grabbed two buddies that live in opposite parts of the country and took this one the distance with a hybrid jumping and dancing routine that was an attempt at mimicking the movements of, well, an antelope. One of those exciting moments that is now ingrained in my head and will not soon be forgotten.

Set break was short, sweet and just enough time to get things handled and put back together. Dusk was fading into a wonderful summer night as the boys took their positions and started a very patient Twist. Trey was listening to Mike, who seemed to be making up for the shadow Page and Big Red had cast on him in the first set. Fishman continues to lay the groundwork that has earned him the title of Most Improved Player this tour. Trey took it upon himself to take the jam up quickly while interlocking with Page’s ivory efforts. No fooling around in the second chapter, it was businesses time and the crowd was taking the notes in stride. Twist segued into a top notch Rift that checked off a personal want for the weekend. The beautiful interplay between Trey and Page continued through the fast paced composed section before bottoming out into a well jammed Prince Caspian. I am usually not a fan of the Prince this early but after such a strong start I allowed it to win me over. This version went unfinished. An eerie theme had already taken a hold of the set from the first licks of Twist but once Esther’s circus chords began all I could picture was a piece of foreshadow from the Alpharetta posters a few days previous.

Being clear headed beyond an empty flask of dark liquor and a few beers, the movement towards a spooky mind bender was welcomed as a challenge. A light-hearted Jane’s Addiction cover was only a teasing distraction to give false hope. Those that might be slipping into a Phish guided tour into the darkness had to keep their wits about them. (Side note: oddly enough I choose 1998-08-01 as my work music today and that also happens to be the debut of Jane’s Addiction cover Been Caught Stealing.) 

Wooks.

Piper blasts off early and although Trey attempts to take the reins on leading the jam, the real noteworthy work is executed by Page. The energy settles down into a skillful butter segue into the intro of My Friend, My Friend. The crowd erupted when Trey echoed the licks into the dark vocal section. The dark of night had made its presence known and lighting genius Chris Kuroda was in hog heaven as the twisted build ups layered over Fishman’s fills.  Trey even employs a maniacal voice to add insult to injury. This version did not have the “Myfe” ending. A standard yet well executed Kill Devil Falls proceeded an extended and loose Split Open and Melt that was the best attempted at an extended improvisational segment. The spaceship landed and the only chance at sanity was a back-to-back rock medley in the form of classic tune Golgi Apparatus and First Tube.  Good Times, Bad Times was a mediocre way to end the night given the themes of the evening but the former part of the song title set the pace for the rest of the night. Our gang of drunk and disorderly made it back to the home base and filled the night with hilarious commentary, creative uses of markers on those passed our with shoes on and debating the merit in drinking until the run came up. It was great to be back on tour in the company of crazies I call friends. 

Set 1: Cars Trucks Buses, Peaches en Regalia, AC/DC Bag, Guyute, Possum, Halley's Comet > 46 Days, The Divided Sky, The Ballad of Curtis Loew, Run Like an Antelope

Set 2: Twist > Rift > Prince Caspian^[1] > Esther, Been Caught Stealing, Piper > My Friend, My Friend^[2] > Kill Devil Falls, Split Open and Melt, Golgi Apparatus, First Tube

Encore: Good Times Bad Times

[1] Unfinished.
[2] No "Myfe" ending.

Phish: Southern Run 2011 - Charlotte, Raleigh and Portsmouth Pt. 1

Part 1: Fort Lauderdale, FL to Charlotte, NC

The inevitable course of coinciding incidences recently has landed me in a position of duality beyond soul and body. By weekday I siphon through infinite bits of data in a digital world postulated by a tradition of remunerative goals. A diagnosable case of the Mondays fades into a tantalizing hump day. As if by design the five day conclusion never comes too soon, but always right on time. I hang up my white collar and don the battle attire of a true-blooded weekend warrior. This is not simply a metaphor. These built for comfort Nike dunks have trekked through a majority of North America on hundreds of musical endeavors. An evident lack of laundering is obvious but the intact sneaker is a testament in itself.

I am neither superstitious nor unkempt, but I find joy in these developed treasures having canyon dirt from the Gorge in Washington, grass smears from Empire Polo Field of Palm Springs, sidewalk grime from Manhattan and sand from South Beach. As a writer it is hard to avoid feeling envious of inanimate objects that can tell a story without words, but they do inspire me to put the pen to papyrus.

The drowsy airport security agent was startled, and particularly disgusted, when I placed them on the conveyor belt. It has 5:30 AM and she wore her "its too early for this shit" look like a pair of fresh gold earrings. My vibe was a direct contrast to the drones. I sympathized yet was alive and emanating a look of anticipation mixed with an annoyingly insouciant grin. This was not without consequence and was paid for in the form of a thorough pat down. A free feel up with the cost of travel.

I do some of my best thinking in airport terminals. Not because it offers any amount of clarity for creativity, but because it is the one place offering countless characters to fuel my voyeuristic imagination. Today was different. My thoughts moved into more abstract patterns and inevitably circled around the core of my journey. Music is not easily defined but simply put it is the lack of silence. I have never experienced total silence, and I am not sure if it even exists, but I know that am zealot to sound. Much like an addict, I can find it anywhere and there is never enough. The universal truth has promoted an endless chase to recreate the most recent high and in effect became an all-consuming necessity. It is not a vice. It is a wild abandon that can be channeled into mainlined joy. Today I was on the hunt.

My row companion on the first plane asked me two things during the aerial lam from the reality behind. The first was what religion I followed. Oddly enough someone that would ask this did not like my answer. She told me to find Jesus. Luckily my second aerial attempt positioned me with some like-minded travelers and I befriended an unsuspecting Doctor that would become a consort or sorts. Excitement fueled chatter landed on the makeshift posse. Here we were in Charlotte, North Carolina, a southern metropolis that lays claim to the largest vaults in the country. The Queen City was built on gold mine gunnies and free flowing streams - fitting for royal roots and a rebellious history. Regretfully I had to part ways with my new friends to meet my tour buddy of many years. Time was for once a non-issue and we spent the early afternoon gathering supplies. By mid-day we were knocking back microbrewery libations in a mid-tier hotel with friends - it was the perfect setting for a game of catch up.

Our socioeconomic advancement beyond impoverished academics afforded luxuries like a taxicab to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater. The solar glare was omnipresent and could only be partially avoided by taking cover under the sparse attempt at greenifying the asphalt quilt. Going against all instincts to maintain homeostasis for a trio of tickets began. The lot system is tiered and atop a small hill sits a surprisingly vibrant shakedown. Thirty minutes later the deed is done and cold beverages inversely disappear. More friends gather in our shady spot. A series of hilarious cross traffic helps pass the time and we are gifted with a conversation from famed lot artist Tripp. The heat is dying and we initiate the aforementioned good Doctor before taking our multi-faceted buzz inside.

Good karma came full circle when the Doctor wrote up a prescription for my lawn seat ailment. Next thing I know we are in the thinly populated Gold Circle. I easily stake out a nice aisle spot before Trey grabs a sign from the audience displaying "Mike's House". The crowd request gimmick seemed like it wasn't really part of the show, but was more of a thunderous warm up that happened to be a benchmark Mike’s Groove. This could be good! A Dog Log sound check already happened earlier in the day so the vibe was already far from standard. The rest of the set ranged from a rocking Sample In A Jar and Axilla to a funked out Wolfman's Brother that had the entire audience pulsing. A well placed Colonel Forbin's Ascent segue into Fly Famous Mocking Bird, a bananas Scent Of A Mule and a surprisingly fitting Stealing Time From the Faulty Plan rounded out a top heavy first set. I could not help but think that this would be a first set beats the second set experience like that seen earlier in the tour?

No. Phish had other plans. That would not be the case. I had a feeling so during set break I took care of business and meet up with my college roommates that were comfortably camped out in the seats detached from the pavilion. It had been long months since the three of us had all been together in the same place and this could only lead to one realistic outcome. The marathon of what can only be described as asteroid rock began with a Backwards Down The Number Line opener. Historically this is a recipe for success when slotted in a position such as this. In this case that would be a premature understatement. A segue train sped down a thunderous Rock and Roll before greasing the wheels into Ghost. This is one of the smoothest 3.0 transitions on the books. A standard Free bottomed out into a solid Reba.

The crowd was on point and thirsty for more. Admitting that this would be a fitting place for a set killer or warm down cut, one can imagine the frenzy that ensued when Icculus reared its beautiful head. The energy level hit fifth gear and I was reminded of that place I held in my mind for moments like the Killing In The Name Of from Alpharetta or the Maze from Alpine two years previous. Hold Your Head Up, a skilled vacuum solo, Over The Rainbow, Bike and hilarity gelled to form a cornucopia of mid-set entertainment that only Phish can pull off. Where do you go from here? How about two heavy hitting crowd favorites back to back with Chalk Dust Torture and You Enjoy Myself.

I was ready to breathe but could not help but blurt out enthused commentary. We settled on "I guess you had to be there" as our flagship stance. The band took the stage quickly for the encore and it was apparent that Trey knew he had total control. That all too familiar mischievous grin stretched across his face. The vocal response started from the very back of the lawn and echoed into the pavilion as the first few notes of Wilson were played. Six long months built my energy threshold and it was now being completely shattered. This was the reason hundreds of miles were traveled. Pushing the envelope to see how high the jump before falling over the edge. Consciousness rang through as the Loving Cup reached outlandish peaks and seemed fitting. Oh, what a beautiful buzz!

Thank god for that buzz because an overwhelming out flux of the crowd and an underestimating taxi company effort left our group stranded for over an hour after the music ended. Luck tapped us on the shoulder and two good Samaritans let us pack into their van cab heading in a somewhat similar direction to our hotel. Celebratory beers, shots, smoothies and more were all pleasant come downs as we watched a top ten count down of the Worlds Worst Dare Devils. Sleep was not in the cards but banter on the night’s events flew across the room between fits of laughter and telling silences after a profound moment was shared. This feeling I had forget was back in a way that I could not remember being so strong. It was only night one.

Set 1: Mike's Song > I Am Hydrogen > Weekapaug Groove, Bouncing Around the Room, NICU[1] > Sample in a Jar, Colonel Forbin's Ascent > Fly Famous Mockingbird, Axilla, Wolfman's Brother, Scent of a Mule[2], Stealing Time From the Faulty Plan

Set 2: Backwards Down the Number Line > Rock and Roll[3] > Ghost > Free > Reba[4], Icculus, Hold Your Head Up > Bike[5] > Hold Your Head Up, Chalk Dust Torture, You Enjoy Myself

Encore: Wilson > Loving Cup

[1] "Play it, Leo!" lyric replaced with "Leo's House!"
[2] The Tra La La Song (One Banana, Two Banana) tease from Page.
[3] A Love Supreme tease from Mike.
[4] No whistling.
[5] Somewhere Over the Rainbow played by Fish during vacuum solo.