What was Phish going to do? The rumors were swirling – gamehendge, a cover set, a recreation of 12/2/83, and the inevitable Scarlet->Fire (!!!) – but, yet again, Phish managed to rise above the rumor mill and do something that was both totally surprising and satisfying. During the first setbreak on New Year’s Eve it became clear that the new-truck stage in the center of Madison Square Garden was meant to recreate the cramped spatiality of a bar gig. (Page’s keyboard even had a sign that said “No drinks!”). But why were they opening with “Glide” of all things”? It soon became clear that Phish was not only aiming to recreate the spatial and physical aesthetics of a bar gig (and the shout out to the hockey sticks of their first gig); by using old instruments and simple rigs, they were also aiming to recreate the sound of an early Phish bar gig. As long as the set included the classic early material, the setlist didn’t matter. What mattered was how they sounded as an ensemble.

Before Phish was the best arena rock jamband on the fucking planet, they were first and foremost a bar band. From roughly 1983-1990, they crafted a specific sound – intimate, crisp, and tight. While nowadays, it is not uncommon to hear a Phish jam that layers thousands of textures, delay loops, and general noise on top of noise, in the early 1990s Phish was about playing complex high energy music where the sound of all four instruments was straightforward and easily discernible. Trey’s original Languedoc guitar was only anchored by a couple Tube Screamers and a Ross Compressor. Page had an uncomplicated set of basic piano and organ sounds. Fish was on a straightforward kit (although did he really not have a woodblock back then? The intro to “Glide” sounded just wrong without it!). And, Mike slapped the bass with a few pedals. All four instruments emitted sounds that you would expect from them – and it was the intricate, compositional blending of those four parts (with each layered with the other) that makes Phish’s early music – their early sound – so brilliant. Just take a minute right now and fire up any Phish show on phishtracks.com between 1989-1992. It is this precise, tight, crisp, and incredibly odd and energetic music that allowed Phish to build its fanbase bar by bar across the country – it was this precise bar (or small room) sound that fits so well in a tiny space.

When Phish graduated into bigger spaces (summer sheds and arenas), their sound also got bigger, noisier and increasingly made use of sounds not explicitly rooted in the instruments themselves. In many ways, this was for the better. It allowed for the improvisational soundscapes of texture, layers, echoes and ambience, but it relied on new and expanded rigs – bigger speakers - more pedals – more digital delay technology, etc.

On 12-31-13 II, oddly none of the songs chosen were, in themselves, rare for 3.0. All had been played in this era. All, except Glide, Forbins->Mockingbird, and Fuck your Face had been performed in 2013. But, the brilliance of the set was the songs proximity to each other. It was a relentless onslaught of classics. It was a perfect set of songs to illustrate what made (and makes) Phish’s music unique. It was the kind of set you could easily see in the early 1990s. Full of intricate compositional material, antics (Icculus!), and a couple brief type I improvisational excursions (but nothing too long or out of the box…If people got bored, they might stop drinking!). In 2013, it was not a well-played set. Flubs were everywhere (Lizards was particularly painful). But playing the songs perfectly was not the point. There is no way Phish can play that material as tightly as the band that toured and practiced relentlessly in the early 1990s. The point was to pay tribute to the incredible hard work and tenacity it took for a bar band to transform into the greatest jam band on the planet.

Despite the flubs, it was that sound that was so cool to hear. A lot of us bemoan the fact that Trey’s tone shifted dramatically around 1995 away from that crisp and NASTY early-1990s Trey tone. Many have theories as to why – the loss of the Ross compressor, or the introduction of new delay pedals, or whatever. What 12/31/13 made clear to me is that it is mostly about the guitar. To hear Trey play one of his original Languedocs – with its clean tone and sustain – was just stunningly beautiful. Just listen to the “Split Open and Melt” jam. No whale call. No delays. Trey was just playing the guitar; crafting melodies and phrases with nothing more than the notes on the neck. Page’s sound too was something you didn’t realize he lost until you heard it again on 12/31/13. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rig Page was using on Tuesday is the exact same one he and Trey moved across the street in Telluride ‘88. Page’s current rig, including the glorious baby grand (debuted in ’93), would take up the space of most bar stages. That early piano sound is unobtrusive and electronically filtered. It is an iconic sound in the countless early 1990s SBD tapes I had in my collection (it is also worth pointing out that the crispness of the sound in my mind is also directly related to the almost exclusively SBD recordings of these early 1990s shows – I never saw Phish in a bar – my first show was 1995).

Don’t get me wrong, as much as I love that early crisp sound, I don’t think Phish can or should return to it on a permanent basis (unless they want to embark on a bar tour under an assumed name!). Phish’s new sound — based mainly on their mind-bending improvisations — is perfectly suited for its arena rock context. But, to celebrate their 30th anniversary, Phish decided to pay tribute to the sound that made them famous. For one night only, they were unabashedly a nostalgia act. And, I can’t really think of a better tribute to their 30 years together.