I don’t know if I can pinpoint the first time I heard a Phish jam. But I do recall that my years of phestivals were sprinkled throughout, starting late in high school, throughout my college years, and quite a bit during my stint in the Walt Disney World college program back in 1996. I’d hear something, ask what it was, and learn that it was this strange and intriguing band called Phish.  It sounded like nothing I had ever heard. It was more than just the music; it was the community and, in it, a sense of rebellion from the mainstream.  Phish typically was not played on the radio or MTV. They were more like word-of-mouth, if you know, you know, type of thing. 

In the 90s, it was challenging to get tickets for a show. The internet was in its infancy, so the best option was to be beside your landline phone and start dialing the second tickets went on sale. 

Retrospect

In retrospect, part of me wishes I had been better at documenting my memories. At 21, I thought those memories would last forever. But just like colors on furniture fade from the sunshine over the years, so do the memories of our youths. And as I navigate the CRS (Can’t Remember Shit) years of perimenopause, I find myself longing for those faded memories. 

We arrived yesterday to get settled.  It’s nice that they let you come early for not too much extra. I’m not sure that would have worked back in the day. There was very little traffic to get in, which was unusual. Also, it is strange being right in the capital of Delaware when we are used to going to extremely remote locations. Going through security was a bit of a joke. We basically were asked if we had any glass or drugs.  No, of course not.  We are packed in tight here, so if privacy is your thing, this may not be for you. It took until late morning today for anyone to offer to sell me drugs.

That’s ok because I am not in the market for them as I would have been 20+ years ago. On one side of us is a family with kids, and on the other, a group of friends who seem to barely see each other anymore as they approach middle age. Of course, that is my assumption.  Another observation is that it is fucking hot. But it is my first festival in perimenopause. There are lots of pop-up canopies, not just tents. People have gotten more skilled at setting up their space, and there are more campervans. 

Our hopes and dreams for this experience are to be as present as possible. Remembering that we are here for the music but also for the phriends. The challenge will be to be present for all of it through overstimulation, which is inevitable. It’s easy to get caught up in building a schedule in the app which feels like a very 2024 thing, like being overstimulated at a professional conference. As a recovering follower of shiny objects, it feels important to me not to do this.

The music of four generations blends and blends the crowds of four generations. Phans are often described as 1.0s – 4.0s which defines the time period in which they first started following the band.  A Wave of Hope had the same feel as Divided Sky.  It was cool to see 4.0s rocking out to Possum.  No one puked behind the cheese (inside joke) and the crowd was calmer.  There is very little vending on the lot. I guess everyone has jobs now.  Some 1.0s look like Steve from Accounting. Some look like they’ve literally been here for 30 years. 

It’s just us here so there’s nothing to prove. We were in bed by 1 AM and it was easy to get up this morning for yoga with Peter. Yoga was blissful. I met another 1.0 who was at the Great Went. Badass.  We commented on how back in those days there was the band and a few toilets.  It’s nice they have all of this for us, but also overwhelming. Trey seemed happy and in a good mood. How could he not be? All these people came to see the band. 

I woke up in the middle of the night to the rain.  I felt so much gratitude for the van and for my amazing husband for thinking of and doing all the things he does to keep us safe and comfortable.  After being ambitious yesterday and getting to yoga, for the rest of my time here, I’ve decided to surrender to the flow.  And that meant sleeping until noon today. Last night’s music was amazing. Four nights of this band requires physical and mental endurance.  Today, the app sent a notification that city hall would be coming down. Hippies pouncing on cardboard is a once in a lifetime sight to see. 

When the scene talks about 1.0s to 4.0s, one recollection is that each generation of fans knows Trey and the band members through the different versions of themselves that they’ve been. For those of us who have been around for decades, it’s been a pleasure to witness their transformation through it all. What is obvious is that they love they have for each other and the magical music that they create.  It’s why we keep coming back. And why we’ll continue to do so for as long as this lasts. 

A shift in plans due to weather meant we’d be treated to a daytime set. My blood arrived pretty much on schedule. I knew that I would be crampy and uncomfortable and it was hot. So I doubled up on the edibles. Throughout the show, my dance moves resembled a squishy gumby toy. And I remembered how magical the day set is.  When the music ended mid-afternoon, the people stayed. They kept dancing. It was a collective feeling, even though Phish stopped performing. No one wanted the festival to end.

And now the weather keeps shifting from heavy downpours to bright sunshine. The lot is emptying. The word on Reddit was joy to get daytime Phish and then be home, showered, and in bed by 8:30 PM. This is who we are now, as a fan base in our 40s, 50s, and beyond. We prefer the matinee. But for now, at least, we’ll remain and watch the circus leave town. 

The band adapted for this situation and the venue and vendors adapted. The fans are tenacious. They were there long after the show ended. And above CamperVanBeethoVan a rainbow appeared.

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