Curious readers,
I am currently thrilling to the unfolding drama that is V-T00R, listening to every show the minute it emerges, and writing down copious impressions in that way that I do. These impressions are lengthy, in-depth, and have gotten discursively more elaborate, in terms of the musical dynamics of Phish. It's decidedly more thoughtful, essay-length exegesis material than the traditional daily "Hay, this show was awesome/not so good" etc. (which, too, has it's place among the voices of the community).
It takes editing, redigesting tunes, backing up and relistening...and can certainly border on mental. I've recently been turned onto the work of music "critic" Paul Williams (no, not the songwriter), and, not to mention, finally got the time (for the most part) to be as immersed in this process of writing as I've been since 2000. I'm adjusting to the whole process, and specifically that of ingesting, absorbing, metabolizing and expounding on Phish. As the joy of it all evolves, I'm coming closer to adopting a comfortable means of knowing when these sublimations of tour and the band's sonic evolution are "done" and ready for public consumption.
Oh, and of course, there's the rather brass-tacks fact that I am distracted by being without steady income, on unemployment, and waiting for that just-right, part-time IT consulting job to come along. For maximum impact, I need a clearer mind, unmuddied by looming bills and dangling fiscal responsibilities, which do dearly impede both the creative process, and (as suffered this last glorious weekend) the ability to responsibly afford to go on tour! And we all know: being sonically sequestered with just the music has its own place among the divine, but tour is the real deal.
So, just keepin' y'all posted. In capsule: Toyota was a warmup that got heated in Set II; Blossom had both petals and pedals pushing psyhedelic envelopes; Hershey began to melt the frost of rusty tendons and signaled promisingly expanding fun and flexibility; Portsmouth was an interesting plateau landing the band in the Easy Coast stew again; but Hartfords...oh Hartfords is where my mind split, and the discourse becomes electric. SPAC is next in the snack pack.
Stay mellow, campers, safe travels, and twist a knee and a booty for me.
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