ME: What about those two years did you like?
BRAD: This is sort of good and bad, but by ‘97 there started to be somewhat of a dark side seeping into the whole thing. That isn’t what you want in the lifestyles. But at the beginning, I thought it translated into some amazing music. To me, what made the Grateful Dead so great was Jerry Garcia and the fact he was this down-and-out character with a positive attitude, and he had soul. And I thought in those years, the soul came into Phish.
It was like this. People would ask why I thought Phish was a better jam band than, say, moe. or String Cheese Incident. My reply was that the other bands were like seeing Star Wars without Darth Vader. You’ve got the hero, you’ve Han Solo, and it’s all great, but without Darth Vader you’re not going to see Star Wars over and over. Because it’s the dark side, and it needs to be in there as well. It’s inevitable with anything that the dark side gets in too much and then ruins it. But in ’97 and ‘98 you can hear a bit more attitude in the playing, maybe some more confidence, and those were the years we actually—“we” meaning the band—thought that we were the best band in the world. It was almost like a swagger, you know, from the fall of 1997 up until Big Cypress. That was the feeling.
ME: What did you do during the hiatus?
BRAD: I worked for Trey. One of the biggest problems was that a lot of the pressure of being Phish just got transferred to Trey. We all just started working for Trey. So I don’t think he ever really got a break from the whole thing until after the second breakup. Trey was doing good business, but the merchandise company and all that were still there. That wasn’t really addressed during the hiatus.
ME: Was it a matter of Trey not being able to put his foot down?
BRAD: I think he was always looking for [manager] John Paluska to do it, and John didn’t want to do it, for whatever reason. Because Trey never wanted to be the bad guy. That’s not in his nature. He wants to take care of people. He would’ve been happy for people to come in and say—and there were people saying this—“You need to get rid of a lot of this.” Maybe not all of it, but some of it, for sure. We didn’t need our own merchandise company. Because what happens is, these guys are humans and they’re great people. They go down to the office and see all these people working, and they don’t want them to lose their jobs. But at what point does it become an expense of your own? Not just monetarily but emotionally. It was hard because it was a big family, but where there’s big families, there’s problems.
It can go both ways. One of the reasons I was on payroll was that Trey wanted somebody 24/7 that he could talk to or do something with, hash out ideas or whatever. I was happy to be working for Trey. I loved working for Trey. It was great. I didn’t want to lose my job, either.
ME: Regarding the 2004 breakup, I’m drawn to the metaphor of the Art Tower they burned down at the Great Went. Phish had built up this incredible organization with all these super-talented people—some of the best in the business—and torched it. Do you have any theories as to why they—and, particularly, Trey—felt the need to end it so drastically and absolutely?
BRAD: It’s hard to say. There were plenty of times where I thought to myself—and I know everybody else thought to themselves—“Why do we have to break up? Why not just go away for awhile?” And Trey would say, “I can’t do that.” I’d say, “Why?” And it was always that he couldn’t see it that way. He saw it in the way of “I’ve got to tear it apart” or “It can’t just be sitting there, too big.” I don’t know if I agreed with that, but it wasn’t my thing. It was his thing. I think when they got back together [after the hiatus], it was for all the wrong reasons. It just wasn’t good.
ME: I have to say, though, I thought they played well on the summer 2003 tour.
BRAD: Yeah, there were some good shows and good moments in ’03. The summer tour had some good stuff. The It festival certainly had some great playing. The Tower Jam was incredible. The Miami New Year’s run was good, too. But I think 2004 took a turn for the worse. Las Vegas was a disaster on all fronts, pretty much. There were some good shows at the beginning of the summer, but the last week was terrible. It was just like a wake. It was really depressing, to be honest. That was a point where the drugs really were a lot worse for everybody.
ME: I was there on the second night of the post-hiatus stand at Hampton in January 2003 when they had to start “You Enjoy Myself” over again. Didn’t you have to come out with a cup of coffee or something for Trey?
BRAD: Uh, I remember it [laughs]. I know that he was pretty hurtin’ that day. That was not a good run. There were a few moments with all of them that we kind of had to rescue them from themselves. And there’s probably a few times it looked like I needed rescuing as well. I think with Trey, though, it was more because he wears it on his sleeve so much.
Trey’s personality is like this. Say we find a pack of fireworks—you, me, Page, whoever. We say, “Let’s set these off. This will be great, right?” We set them off. Trey says, “There’s got to be more fireworks around here. Let’s go find more. Let’s find the factory. And let’s blow them all up!”
That’s Trey, and this is why he writes such great, amazing songs. It’s that kind of insane drive he has that will also get you into trouble. There’s so many greats that are like that. He’s the one who practices in his room for eight hours. He obsesses about stuff. So when it came to partying, the guy set the world on fire. And you know what? We were all happy to follow him as much as we could a lot of the time. Because Trey was our leader, you know?
The great thing about Phish was when they were all in their roles and flourishing. Obviously, it’s the band dynamic that makes them so great. The first thing I was drawn to with them was the relationship between Trey and Fishman back in the early nineties. To me, it was like Pete Townshend and Keith Moon of the Who. If you watch old interviews with Townshend and Moon, and you watch Trey and Fishman interact, it’s the same thing. It’s like two goofballs who are brothers bouncing off each other.
ME: And pushing each other to musical heights, as well.
BRAD: Exactly. It’s like when you listen to the Who, a lot of the time the guitar and drums are more connected than the bass and the drums. Now Fishman doesn’t really play like Moon, but it’s a similar vibe. It’s no surprise they named the band after him. He really embodies the spirit of the whole thing. And then Page is like a backbone up there. He’s solid strength, like a tree with deep roots. Mike is just genuinely strange. He gives the band their weirdness. When you put all four of them together, it’s like Trey used to say: “A wop, a mick and a couple of hebes.” [laughs]
ME: Amy Skelton said to me, “We almost lost Trey.” Did you ever have that fear?
BRAD: Yeah. I mean, it was a strange time, because I was around him a lot in that period and one of the things he always used say to me was, “I don’t ever want you to have an intervention for me or anything like that.” Which to me meant he knew he was in trouble. But knowing Trey well enough, he was going to have to find that out on his own. He tried a few times from other people prodding him to do this or that. It just didn’t stick. It was gonna have to come from him. It did because he was sort of forced into it by a court case. But I think a lot of it was just a cry for help. ’Cause Trey’s a really smart guy. He’s not stupid, you know, and a lot of what was going on was just stupid on everybody’s part.
ME: In your interview with Randy Ray, you said, “We liked the partying. We liked the rock and roll atmosphere. But it all just became too much.”
BRAD: Well, that was the thing, you know? From 1997 to 2000, we had all of our friends around all the time. There was a big party. The whole thing was a big, fun, happy experience. Amy Skelton is the one who came up with the Betty Ford Clinic. Don’t let anybody tell you that was my fault. That was her idea! [laughs] She was like, “I’ve got a ton of friends. Why don’t we get a room backstage and stock it with booze?” Trey was like, “Great idea!” But after the third night, when there was all this hard liq
uor, people were back there getting shit-faced, just wasted. So then we went to all beer, and that’s when we started calling it the Betty Ford Clinic, because it looked like every single person in there needed help.
To us it was funny. It seemed like good times. Arguably, for four years you could say we were throwing the best party in rock and roll. Which is pretty cool! When we first met Stewart Copeland from the Police, he came to see us in Vegas. It was him and his brother Ian. They flew in, and when Stewart saw the setup he was like, “Man, you’ve got this shit down! This is hospitality.” Ian was like, “This is amazing. . . . I haven’t had such a good time in 20 years.” And we’re thinking to ourselves, “Wow, these are real legendary guys here.”
We enjoyed that reputation. But then it took over, and it just got too crazy. The whole thing took on its own momentum, ’cause that’s what they wanted at that time. I couldn’t drag those guys out of there at set break half the time. They loved their friends, and they wanted them to be having a good time
ME: You’ve called Big Cypress “the best weekend of our lives,” and it was a career pinnacle.
BRAD: It was like climbing Mount Everest. It was the biggest festival, the longest set. Everything was just big, you know? When I got on the property, which was on December 27th, 1999, there wasn’t anybody there yet. But there was already this magnetic energy that was just undeniable. Like, this is gonna be special. You could feel it in the air. And because it was on an Indian reservation, it really did feel like anything goes, like anything can happen out here.
Phish totally rose to the occasion on all fronts with the playing. I don’t remember much about the 30th at all, to be totally honest, because it was all about the 31st. It’s funny because they closed the 31st with “After Midnight,” and from that moment on, it was a crazy buildup of energy—I get goosebumps just talking about it—until we finally drove the band through the crowd to the stage on the airboat hot-dog thing.
The playing was pure adrenalin and joy. I remember moments in the set where it started to lull, and then they played something that pulled it right back into the energy. You know, if you stay up all night with a friend, it’s a cool night. Could you imagine doing that with 85,000 people? It’s pretty intense! To be able to pull that off, all of us as a group, I never felt so much satisfaction in my life, professionally.
INDEX
A Live One
Abrahams, Dave
Absolute a Go Go label
Abts, Matt
“AC/DC Bag”
Acid (LSD)
Adams, Rebecca
“Alaska”
“All of These Dreams”
“All Thing Reconsidered”
Allen, Marshall
Allman, Duane
Allman Brothers Band
“Also Sprach Zarathustra”
“Alumni Blues”
Ambrose, Jane
Amy’s Farm
Anastasio, Dina (mother)
Anastasio, Ernest G. (father)
Anastasio, Ernie (father)
Anastasio, Trey
A Live One
author’s view of
Bittersweet Motel documentary
Clifford Ball
Colorado tour
Coventry concert
creation of the group
creative mindset and attitude
custom-made instruments
disbanding the group
downsizing in 1995
drug bust and subsequent treatment
drug use
European vacation and tour
Farmhouse album
four-tracks
Grateful Dead and
Halloween concert covers
Helping Friendly Book
hiatus
Hoist album
H.O.R.D.E. tours
humor through music
improved concert gear and music
introduction to guitar
It
Junta album
Kuroda and
lost Top 40 single
marriage and family
Marshall and
McConnell and
media attention
music background and training
Nectar’s gigs
office organization
on concert repertoire
on popularity and success
Oysterhead
Paluska and
Phish.Net
post-European musical evolution
practice time
Red Rocks concert
rehearsals
return to UV
reunion
Rift album
Round Room album
Sands on
set list composition
Shine album
Slip Stitch and Pass
sober tour
sobriety
Story of the Ghost album
Surrender to the Air album
the Rhombus
transfer to Goddard
Undermind album
upbringing
ups and downs
value of music
Voters for Choice concert
White Album
White Tape
“Wilson”
See also Gamehendge saga
Andelman, Steve
“The Andelmans’ Yard”
“Anything But Me”
Archer, Dan
Arena tour
Argent
Art Jam
Artwork
Asbell, Paul
Ashes, fan’s
Auburn, Maine
“Avinu Malkenu”
“Axilla”
Aykroyd, Dan
Bachelor party, Marshall’s
“Backwards Down the Number Line”
Baggott, Tom
Ball, Clifford
Bar 17 (album)
Barbershop quartets
The Barn
Barron, Chris
“Bathtub Gin”
Batiste, Russell
“Beat It”
Beatles
Beato, Rick
Beavis & Butt-Head (television program)
Beckett, Barry
Behind the Music (television program)
Belushi, John
Ben and Jerry’s
Berry Chuck
Betty Ford Clinic
“Big Ball Jam”
“Big Black Furry Creature from Mars”
Big Cypress, Florida
Billboard magazine
Billy Breathes (album)
“Birds of a Feather”
Bittersweet Motel (documentary film)
Bivouac Jaun
“Black”
Blackwood, Easley, Sr.
Blackwood Convention
Blake, Tchad
Blake, William
Bluegrass music
The Blues Brothers (film)
Blues Traveler
Bonham, John
Bonnaroo festival
“Bouncing Around the Room”
Bowie, David
“Bradstock” party
Briggs, David
Brother Craig
Brown, Brian
Brown, Cynthia
Bruford, Bill
Budnick, Dean
“Bug”
Burbridge, Oteil
Byrds
“Camel Walk”
Campbell, Scott
“Can’t You Hear Me Knocking”
Capshaw, Coran
Car Talk (television program)
Carini, Pete
Carrey, Jim
Cast Away (film)
“Cavern”
“Chalk Dust Torture”
“Chamber of 32 Doors”
Charitable organizations
Christgau, Robert
The Chronicles of Narnia (Lewis)
Cinematography
Claypool, Les
Clifford Ball
Clinton, George
Cocaine
“Colonel Forbin’s Ascent”
Colorado ’88 (album)
Colorado tour
Colton, Jason
Concerts, tours, and festivals
all-arena tour
Amy’s Farm
Anastasio’s generosity
backstage hangers-on
“The Ballad of Mike Meanwell”
Big Cypress
Clifford Ball
college tour
Colorado tour
Coventry, Vermont
covers
cyberspace-based fanbase
disbanding the group
dwindling ticket sales
European tours and vacation
“the first last show”
flying hot dog
Gamehendge performances
Great Went and Lemonwheel
Halloween concerts
humor through music
Ian’s Farm
increasing attendance
increasing commercialization and drug use
increasing distance between musicians and audience
Island Tour
It
late 1996-2000
lighting
live performances by year and locale
Madison Square Garden
marathon tours of 1989-1992
mid-career gigs and music
missing set lists
New England tour venues
New Year’s Eve concerts
opening acts and shared gigs
Oysterhead
Paradise Theater
post-European musical evolution
preference for live performance
quality issues in 2004 and beyond
quantity of
Red Rocks
repertoire
reunion
“Rhombus narration”
secret language
sober tour
summer ’98 tour
The Phish Companion
Tweezerfest and Bowie jam
twenty-year tour
University of Vermont
Voters for Choice
See also Gamehendge saga
Condon, Brad
“The Connection”
“Contact”
Copeland, Stewart
Copyright protection
Cosmic Country Horns
Cottone, Pete
Coventry, Vermont
Cover art. See Artwork
“The Cover of ‘Rolling Stone’”