Phish is back; in a BIG way...

There are two bands that paved the way for my music tastes; Smashing Pumpkins and Phish. The latter performed this weekend in Hampton, VA for a three day celebration that I was lucky enough to attend. Phish fans from across the world united in a scene that I can only describe as sublime. The energy, as well as the apprehension, were tangible prior to Friday night's opener. All of us remember the pre-2000 precision that Phish was capable of, and, probably more notably, the shell of a band they'd become after their hiatus. Coventry was a particularly relevent topic leading up to Friday night, and the hope was that they'd leave the tears of that event behind and forge forward...

This hope proved to be more than well-founded.

Phish entered the Hampton Coliseum to a thunderous roar from it's most adoring fans. Instead of picking an easy tune to warm up with, Fluffhead, (a song not performed live in over 8 years) was the choice to begin the new era. Following Fluffhead was The Divided Sky, another technically difficult tune that seemed to be a sign that they were prepared to give each and every fan the show of their lives. With all due respect to the Widespread's and Umphrey's and Moe.'s of the world, Phish made a statement this past weekend. They announced their return with uncanny accuracy and emotion, and proved without a shred of doubt, that they truly are THE live act of past 20 years.

It was an unforgettable weekend with good friends, good beer, and great music, and the band should be proud of the fact that they made us all feel like teenagers again for 6 incredible sets...

To view set lists, visit http://www.phish.com/

Jeff - wa

Focus and Clarity

It's been close to a full year since adding anything to this tiny corner of the WWW, and, through some cosmic bumblefuck, the world has continued to inexplicably rotate correctly.  

My original idea for this blog was to focus on the distinct cultural differences between my two favorite music scenes; you see, as I sit here writing, the sweet scent of Nag Champa fills my living room with comfortable ease, while, at the same time, Refused blares from my speakers.  I think there is something to discuss here, but is it worthy of passage upon passage of unrelenting drivel? I think not.  Moreover, as you can see from previous posts, my obsession with sports overtook any real message I had planned on conveying anyways, so I guess the whole thing was destined to be lost on any reader that meandered along it's words.    

So, friend, let's start fresh.  Forge a new path of un-readership.  Boldly go where many, many, many people have gone before.

A question has consumed my thoughts over the past, oh, 7+ years, and I hope that this blog will bring an end to my speculation on the topic.  As a college student in East Lansing, MI, my friends and I frequented the local thrift shops for buried fashion treasure.  Finding that perfectly funny T (Dan's Big Bone Lick), was always a welcome surprise, and one trip in the summer of 2001 was no different.  Sifting through the racks of shirts I came across perhaps the best shirt I own, which brings us back to the aforementioned question...

WHO IS TWILLA?  (see above)

I am the proud owner of this fantastic shirt, and, subsequently, the proud owner of what would become a very common nickname for me.  What should not be lost in this twisted tale, however, is I AM NOT the first man or woman to be called Twilla.  I implore the original Twilla to please stand up. 

I wonder if I'll ever meet the orignal Twilla, formerly of TRIN Company?  It's uncertain. What I do know is that Twilla is probably a damn good American with whom I'd love to enjoy a cold beer with on a hot, summer day.

More to come, friends.  

Listening to:  Arch Enemy, Phish, Ray LaMontagne, and the flawless Jose Gonzalez.

Cheers,

Jeff(wa)