them off the track. For instance, during “Colonel Forbin’s Ascent” at a 1995 show in Hershey Park, Pennsylvania, he purported to reveal that the Rhombus was located in King of Prussia. And so the Rhombus largely remained a mystery well into the nineties.
Anastasio returned to the University of Vermont for the fall 1984 semester. During his absence, Mike Gordon and Jon Fishman played in a group called the Dangerous Grapes—another two-guitar outfit that mined an unoriginal but satisfying blues-rock groove, drawing from the usual suspects: the Allman Brothers Band, the Grateful Dead, Stevie Ray Vaughan. If nothing else, their afternoon jam sessions entertained the members of the UVM fraternity at whose house they rehearsed. The return of Anastasio, however, promised fresh challenges and original material, and Fishman unhesitatingly threw in his lot with the prodigal guitarist.
Gordon also came around, but with a proviso: He wanted the band to continue to include covers in their sets. In this he had an ally in Jeff Holdsworth, who was also still in the fold, though his role would diminish as original material and musical charts increasingly entered
the repertoire. That said, Holdsworth provided Phish with two original songs—“Camel Walk” and “Possum”—which they continued to perform long after he left. In fact, “Possum”—a catchy, finger-popping country-blues shuffle—became a live favorite. Anastasio even made it part of his original Gamehendge song cycle.
As for the covers, Gordon had an interesting point to make, as he usually does: “We always talk about getting away from our egos,” he told Richard Gehr in The Phish Book , “but there’s a certain egotism about who wrote whatever song you happen to be playing, so that’s another part of the ego to do away with. The source of what you’re playing shouldn’t make any difference if you’re attempting to be true to the moment.”
The foursome finally settled on Phish as a name. Amy Skelton, who was around for Phish’s birthing, doesn’t remember exactly when or how it emerged. They first mused about calling themselves Phshhhh (without a vowel), based on the sound that brushes make on a snare drum. Someone even came up with a poster that had Phshhhh on it, but the lack of a vowel ultimately presented problems. (Imagine a promoter’s confusion: “You call yourself what? How do you spell that?”) And so Phshhhh became Phish, the decision made the afternoon before they played a Halloween party in 1984. This was also their first gig since resuming the band after Anastasio’s one-semester suspension from UVM.
The name Phish was intriguing but ambiguous, and it didn’t tie them to any particular sound or movement. Phish played on Fishman’s name and on fish in general, much like the minor alteration of animal names that turned beetles into “Beatles” and birds into “Byrds.” To clear up one oft-repeated misconception, Phish was only coincidentally a contraction of Phil Lesh, the name of the Grateful Dead’s brilliant bassist, despite speculation by fans that this might be some sort of nod to the Dead.
“Definitely not,” stated Skelton. “Definitely not remotely on any of their radar screens.”
“The band is called Phish, because Fish is the drummer,” Anastasio said matter-of-factly in Specimens of Beauty , a band documentary made during the recording of Undermind in 2004. “If I went and saw Phish, I’d be watching Fish.” It was Anastasio who designed the clever band logo, which depicts a rather circular fish with the five letters in Phish artfully outlining the piscine creature. Air bubbles that look like eyes stream from its open mouth as it swims from right to left. The elongated letters are reminiscent of sixties psychedelic art.
Mike Gordon is the x factor in Phish. He is a maze of seeming contradictions. For everything you can think of to say about Gordon, virtually the opposite is true, too. He is
Anastasio returned to the University of Vermont for the fall 1984 semester. During his absence, Mike Gordon and Jon Fishman played in a group called the Dangerous Grapes—another two-guitar outfit that mined an unoriginal but satisfying blues-rock groove, drawing from the usual suspects: the Allman Brothers Band, the Grateful Dead, Stevie Ray Vaughan. If nothing else, their afternoon jam sessions entertained the members of the UVM fraternity at whose house they rehearsed. The return of Anastasio, however, promised fresh challenges and original material, and Fishman unhesitatingly threw in his lot with the prodigal guitarist.
Gordon also came around, but with a proviso: He wanted the band to continue to include covers in their sets. In this he had an ally in Jeff Holdsworth, who was also still in the fold, though his role would diminish as original material and musical charts increasingly entered
the repertoire. That said, Holdsworth provided Phish with two original songs—“Camel Walk” and “Possum”—which they continued to perform long after he left. In fact, “Possum”—a catchy, finger-popping country-blues shuffle—became a live favorite. Anastasio even made it part of his original Gamehendge song cycle.
As for the covers, Gordon had an interesting point to make, as he usually does: “We always talk about getting away from our egos,” he told Richard Gehr in The Phish Book , “but there’s a certain egotism about who wrote whatever song you happen to be playing, so that’s another part of the ego to do away with. The source of what you’re playing shouldn’t make any difference if you’re attempting to be true to the moment.”
The foursome finally settled on Phish as a name. Amy Skelton, who was around for Phish’s birthing, doesn’t remember exactly when or how it emerged. They first mused about calling themselves Phshhhh (without a vowel), based on the sound that brushes make on a snare drum. Someone even came up with a poster that had Phshhhh on it, but the lack of a vowel ultimately presented problems. (Imagine a promoter’s confusion: “You call yourself what? How do you spell that?”) And so Phshhhh became Phish, the decision made the afternoon before they played a Halloween party in 1984. This was also their first gig since resuming the band after Anastasio’s one-semester suspension from UVM.
The name Phish was intriguing but ambiguous, and it didn’t tie them to any particular sound or movement. Phish played on Fishman’s name and on fish in general, much like the minor alteration of animal names that turned beetles into “Beatles” and birds into “Byrds.” To clear up one oft-repeated misconception, Phish was only coincidentally a contraction of Phil Lesh, the name of the Grateful Dead’s brilliant bassist, despite speculation by fans that this might be some sort of nod to the Dead.
“Definitely not,” stated Skelton. “Definitely not remotely on any of their radar screens.”
“The band is called Phish, because Fish is the drummer,” Anastasio said matter-of-factly in Specimens of Beauty , a band documentary made during the recording of Undermind in 2004. “If I went and saw Phish, I’d be watching Fish.” It was Anastasio who designed the clever band logo, which depicts a rather circular fish with the five letters in Phish artfully outlining the piscine creature. Air bubbles that look like eyes stream from its open mouth as it swims from right to left. The elongated letters are reminiscent of sixties psychedelic art.
Mike Gordon is the x factor in Phish. He is a maze of seeming contradictions. For everything you can think of to say about Gordon, virtually the opposite is true, too. He is
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