Fall tours: 1984, 1994, & 2014

There is not much to say about Fall 1984 since I can only judge it on the two shows available at phishows.com. However, it is clear that Phish was already working toward creating their sound, even if it involved two guitars, no keyboards, a bunch of covers, and a whole lot of goofiness.  Hey, they were college kids.

A decade later, Phish had honed its craft and become the quintessential "college band". It is easy to forget these days that colleges were its bread and butter. But as they tore their way across the country again, it was at college halls (and other auditoriums, for sure) that these four guys made some of their best music ever. How does one sum up Fall 1994? Lots of bluegrass, the most extensive jams to date, the evolution of two new songs, the "White Album", and the "Vibration of Life."

Bluegrass became a huge part of Phish's repertoire in '94, with their arrangement of Boston's "Foreplay/Long Time" as the centerpiece.  Trey learned to play fiddle, while Mike played banjo, Page played standup bass, and Fish played the washboard. They often did these songs without amplification; and some of these college crowds actually quieted down in order to hear it. Listen to Dec. 7 and be amazed by the audience's attentiveness. Better still, after the show on Nov. 19, the band played an entire bluegrass mini-set in the parking lot, which some intrepid fan managed to get on tape (not an easy task back then!).

When plugged in, the band members were stretching out. Though not the totally tuned-in jams of today, these noodle-fests definitely yielded great rewards if you stuck with them. Every single "Tweezer" was a musical journey (Nov. 23); every "Stash" killed (Nov. 12); every "Reba" soared (Oct. 26); every "Harry Hood" was supremely climactic (Oct. 23); every "David Bowie" was epic (Nov. 14); every "You Enjoy Myself" got funked out with big vocal jams (Dec. 4); every "Chalk Dust Torture" rocked out hard (Nov. 4). It is no wonder the first official live album was culled from these shows (and not even the examples listed here).

On Halloween 1994, a new tradition of covering another band's entire album was established with 'The Beatles': note perfect when necessary ("Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da"), jammed out when plausible ("While My Guitar Gently Weeps"); completely reworked when possible ("Don't Pass Me By"); and played for laughs when given the chance ("Helter Skelter").


Fall 1994 saw the band working out two new songs, evolving and polishing them in front of the audience - "Simple", which began life that summer as a mere song-sketch in the middle of "Mike's Song", became its own fleshed-out tune, and sometimes jam-vehicle; and "Guyute", which would undergo a few more changes, was mostly solidified by December.

Finally, there was the "Vibration of Life", an idea that a musical vibration cycle at just the right frequency can provide energy to a roomful of people. Even if the band was only messing with the audience, it was a recurring theme at several shows and one of those things that if you wanted to believe it, it became true. Phish's playing was so full of life and electricity during the autumn of 1994, if they were offering to give some of that energy back to the faithful fans, well, why not take it for what it was?


Twenty years later, the fall of 2014 picked up where the summer left off - every town still got a "Fuego" and what the jams lacked in crazy experimentation, they made up for in focus. The cover songs were still minimal and the shining moments came in the form of hooked-up funk (the Oct. 31 "Sand"), excellent segues ("Theme From the Bottom -> Steam" on Oct. 22), and blissful peaks ("Bathtub Gin" from Oct. 18, "Wolfman's Brother" on Oct. 25). The newer songs were still getting a huge workout, though a few more takes of "Wombat" (only two?) would have been nice, because there is so much that can be done with that groove.

Like the previous Halloween, a set of new music was presented - this time in the form of instrumental pieces to accompany some narratives and sound effects from a 1964 Disney record of scary stories and sound effects. As silly as that reads, it was strikingly entertaining, magnificent in its execution and endlessly re-listenable. (Try to get "They attack!" out of your head after hearing "The Birds".)

Those that say that the mid-1990s was the high point for Phish have a good argument with Fall 1994. The guys were certainly at their very best up to that point (though not without flubs). But I will still take 2014 for its variety (there are more than 200 songs in rotation now) and the maturity it takes to let the jams breathe instead of always being frenetic freakouts. The argument may be that they do not jam like they used to, but that may very well be the point no matter which side you are on.

Stretching like a great big stretchy thing

The doctor gave me a pamphlet of stretching exercises to do daily. I kid you not, it takes about an hour and a half to do them all.

The physical therapist, whom I started seeing this week, gave me another sheet full of stretches.  Sure, why not add on?

So all I do, for two hours every day, is stretch.  And stretch.  And stretch.

It is a colossal bore.

I. Just. Want. To. Run.

You know that scene in 'Superman II'...

...when our hero decides he wants to permanently be a human Clark Kent, and then nothing good comes of it?

I did not want to make that choice, but the feeling is still there - I am becoming human.

For 10 years, I was Superman.  I was healthy, strong, fast, fit, focused and alert.  I rarely got sick.  I could knock out a case the common cold in two days.  I could eat to my heart's content and never gain weight.  My small-sized clothes fit perfectly and my mediums fit comfortably.

But in the past two months, I have had two colds; I called out sick from work for the first time in six years. I feel achy and tired.  Things hurt, and not in that good way that exercise usually brings.  Sleep is irregular.  My appetite is on and off, and when it is on, I make a lot of bad choices.  My belly is flabby.  My legs feel like lead.  

So I finally saw a doctor today.  He brought up the "S" word - "sciatica".  Yet at the same time, he sounded hopeful, like it could be dealt with, treated, and ultimately healed.  Even better, he said that what I have been doing - trying to work through it despite the pain - probably is not making it any worse.  That is good news because I am willing to suffer through pain in order to get my daily exercise routine done.

Next week is the X-ray.  The following week, physical therapy should hopefully start.  Winter 2015 has been a bust.  Worst season ever.  But things may be looking up in the spring.  I dare say, there is a glimmer of hope again for Superman.

Not much better, but no worse

Walk 10 minutes, jog 15, walk five.

That has been the workout for the past two weeks.  In total, I net about 2.5 to three miles. 

Some days it is painful. Other days, it is merely uncomfortable.

Some days, I feel it in my right butt cheek.  Most days, the agony is in my right lower back.  On some occasions, it moves to the left side.

On the plus side, the speed and distance has been naturally increasing.  The walks have gone from 20-minute miles to near-15.  The jogs have progressed from 11-minute miles to 8:30s (on good days). 

I am still not sure what to do, but it is starting to get me a little crazy.  It hurts my brain to think that less than two months ago I was running sub-6:00 miles.  The pain is definitely as mental as it is physical.

Plus, I am gaining weight because comfort-eating is a very, very, very real thing.

Not much improvement, a month later

It has been more than a month since the injury.  No improvement in my condition in the past two weeks.  

Another couple of days of jogging a slow mile and walking for 20 minutes still end in pain in my back.  

Five days in a row now without running; three days of doing nothing at all. 

Aside from recording a lot of new music, I am not even enjoying the extra free time.  

I want to run.

Not running, very much unlike an antelope

Christmas morning. Felt fantastic. With no races on the schedule for the first time in years, it was a week of fun running. No plans, just miles. How about six before seeing the family for holiday festivities? Heck, make it seven.

Solid pace...moving fluidly....smiling....singing...happy...right through mile six...

The nagging ache in my lower back appears. It creeps down to my buttocks.  The ache becomes a pain, which starts shooting down into my leg. What *is* this? My whole right side, from back to leg is killing me by the time I finish that last mile. I limp home and spend Christmas hunched over, unable to walk or even stand without pain or discomfort.

Rest day. Then try to go out the next. Can not even get started moving. Two more rest days. Walk a mile in agony. Three more. Jog a mile in utter pain. Awful.

Was I not recently running sub-6 miles? Now I can barely move.

Two weeks go by. See a physical therapist. Not impressed. No real answers. Forget about going to a doctor, though. I do not trust those drug pushing ghouls.

So I wait, feeling slightly better each day. But it is slow...and it drives me a little mad.

Appetite comes and goes in weird waves. Some days I eat practically nothing. Others, I gorge until my stomach aches. I gain a only a few pounds, but I feel like an elephant.

Sleep is completely out of wack. Can not rest at night. Exhausted during the day.

The worst part of being a runner is not running. When the brain wants it - needs it - and body rejects it, that is hell.

Try to distract - make some music, watch some movies, get together with friends. But I just...want...to...run.

23 days after the initial incident, I ran - no, jogged - a mile and a half. Severe discomfort. That is an improvement.

Next day, a slow mile on icy roads. Took a spill. Banged up my knee. Did not care. Needed to be out there. One more rest day. Try again tomorrow. Will not give up.

Passaic Chanukah 5K

My final race of the season,  the year, and possibly for a long time (more on that in the next post) was quite anti-climactic.

This new Chanukah race in Passaic, though well intentioned, was not well organized. The director was a super-nice guy, but needs help if he wants to bring it back for a second year.

The vibe among the small crowd gathered at the Boathouse in Third Ward Park on that chilly late-December morning was pleasant. But from the outset, there was some confusion: What, exactly, is the course? Why do I see no markings? Is someone going to direct us?

We were told that the course was three times around the park's loop, but those of us unfamiliar with the park were not sure what the "loop" was. After several explanations, we finally got it, and the race was now running late as we walked to the start line.

But where was the start line? Clearly this was not an officially measured course by the USATF. As we grouped in a designated area, someone asked where the line was. "Right where you are," was the reply, but there was no clear line and we racers like exactitude.

The "go" command was given and we ran the supposed tenth of a mile leading to the beginning of the one-mile loop. As we neared the clock, I saw the Compuscore guy still fiddling with it. He had not started the clock yet!

I finally saw it start just as I was passing. OK, I thought, I'll either have to extrapolate my time one-tenth, or count this as a three-miler.

The three front-runners blasted ahead, but I held my own behind them. I hit the first loop at just under 6:00 and tried to hang on to that pace for the next two. The slight incline on the back-end of the loop was offset by a fast decline, so it certainly was not a challenging course.  Perhaps that accounts for the relative steadiness of my pace as I knocked out mile two at just over 6:00.

Though I was passed by one guy, I was gunning it hard for the last loop, giving it all I had because - official race or not - I wanted to end my year with a bang. Expending all my effort, I was not able to get a definitive look at the clock, but I really thought it was somewhere in the 18:30s. Weird. Had the missed time been added?

I asked the Compuscore guy what the time differential was between the start of the race and the start of the clock. He blatantly lied and said there was none. I did not feel like arguing, so I retreated back to the Boathouse where there were no post-race snacks save for a couple of boxes of donuts. Anything else we wanted, we had to buy. At least we got a nice technical polyester shirt.

I found the race director, thanked him for the race, and left. But if he really wants to make this a worthwhile race for the future, he has a lot to learn. If you charge 25 bucks for a race, we expect a well-defined course, accurate timing, and at least some free bananas and maybe some bagels. I mean, come on - we can run anywhere, any time. If we are paying for it, we want to get something out of it.

The next day, I looked up the results online. My official time was 18:11. I know I trained hard, but I also know I do not have a 5:52 pace 5K in me. I think that time is for three miles, which would mean a much more realistic 6:00 pace. Still not a bad ending to a great year.

P.S. Don't forget to check out my NYC Marathon movie if you have not already!