Phix's Coventry Story
By Paul Murin, Guitarist

Written 8/23/04

On the Way

Three of the four members of Phix were at Coventry; Derek (keyboards) was unable to be there because his wife Becky was extremely pregnant, and he (understandably) didn't feel comfortable leaving her for five days. So Brian, Chris, and I flew from Denver to Boston on Wednesday afternoon--it was WAY cheaper to fly into Boston than anywhere else in the region. Also, we were able to find a van for rent in Boston. We had looked into renting an RV for the weekend, but we found way back in early June that there wasn't an RV available within 400 miles of Coventry…so we felt lucky to have been able to find the van in Boston. We stocked up on food & supplies, and then spent Wednesday night at a hotel outside of town.

The Line Begins

We headed up to Coventry on Thursday, and hit the line on Interstate 91, about 2 miles short of the exit, at about 3:30 in the afternoon. We weren't really surprised to see a line; we all know that it's pretty much par for the course at these kinds of events. We were well-stocked on food & party favors, so we still weren't really bothered when it started to look like we were in the line for the long haul. The night wore on, and the Bunny (the live radio broadcast from the festival) kept assuring us that they were working on solutions to get the cars in faster. The offered us a bit of solace by simulcasting the Camden show that night; it was a welcome break from the Prince, Michael Jackson, and other crap they had been spinning all day.

We fell asleep in the van sometime in the middle of the night…having moved maybe a quarter mile in the 12 hours we had been there so far.

Line Crashing Assholes

We awoke sometime around daybreak on Friday to absolute pandemonium on the interstate--people yelling, horns honking, police sirens wailing. Traffic most definitely not moving. It was about that time that people had started to arrive from the Camden show the night before. Instead of just getting line like cool people would do, many of these people began taking advantage of the folks who had fallen asleep in line, and took the opportunity to cut in front of them. This, of course, created some major tension out on the road. Not helping the situation was that many of these people were unable to squeeze their vehicles all the way into the line, leaving their rear ends stuck out into the left lane and blocking through traffic. It was a mess. And now the cops were starting to get pissed (and we all know that a pissed off cop is not a good thing).

(If you were one of these people who cut into the line…have you ever heard of karma? Well, it's coming! It's coming!)

At this point, we had MAYBE moved a mile from the time we hit the line, about 18 hours later.

The Line, Continued

By the end of the day on Friday, we still hadn't made much progress. Unbelievably, it was becoming apparent that we were going to spend another night on the side of the highway. We walked down to the store that was just off the exit, grabbed some food and a bottle of Jameson's, and waited some more. All the while, the Bunny continued to assure us that everything was fine, and that we would get there in plenty of time for the show. Wanting to play by the rules and NOT be part of the problem, we decided to go along with what they told us (big mistake).

We woke up early in the morning on Saturday to a mostly-empty bottle. We had finally gotten off the interstate and moved past the spot where we merged with two other lines, so we figured that we would start to move faster. And we did…instead of moving 100 feet per hour, we were starting to move a couple hundred feet every fifteen minutes or so. But by this time it was mid-morning on Saturday, and the locals were telling us that we still had 7 or 8 miles to go to get in the venue. Doing the math, we were starting to see that there was still no way in hell we were going to get into the venue in time for the show.

Abandon Ship

At about noon, the line was still not moving any faster. Some time during the morning, Mike Gordon had come on the air on the Bunny and announced that people who had not yet exited the interstate were going to be forced to turn around. We were shocked to hear this news, but glad that we were beyond the exit. The Bunny, of course, kept telling us that the rest of us would get in just fine, but the Bunny's little rabbit turds were starting to smell like a big steaming pile of bullshit.

At this point, we had been in line for 45 hours, and we decided to give up on getting our van into the festival once and for all.

Let me repeat that: we had been in line for 45 hours.

45 Hours.

Yes, 45.

One of the local families who lived on Hwy. 5 was offering to let people park on their property for only 20 bucks, and we decided to take them up on it. These folks were even kind enough to take advantage of the access given to the locals, and shuttle us in closer to the venue. We still had to walk a long way, but three miles was better than eight miles, especially when you're carrying all of your own camping gear. Throughout this whole ordeal, the local people of the Northeast Kingdom were incredibly helpful and kind. They made a lot of money off of the Phishheads, but they deserved it, and they made the whole weekend a lot easier for all of us.

The First Show--Mudbath

We finally got to our campsite and set up, and it was already time to head into the show. Not familiar with the layout of the event, we set up camp about as far away from the stage as we possibly could have been. More walking. But that wasn't so bad. What really sucked was the foot-deep lake of mud, with a consistency reminiscent of tepid diarrhea, that we HAD to walk across in order to get into the show. We figured that they'd take care of this before the next day. We were wrong.

We weren't terribly well-prepared for the show on Saturday--we didn't really know what to expect when we got inside, plus we were (unbelievably) running kind of late. We traveled light, didn't even bring a tarp to sit on. The crowd was surprisingly somber, probably because most people had to walk several miles to get into the show. Trey talked quite a bit during the show, which I actually thought was pretty cool. It was interesting to hear him talk about the writing process of "David Bowie", and some of his other experiences during his formative years. By the third set, Trey was clearly fucked up, and not playing his best, but I wasn't really bothered by it-hell, I would have probably been partying too, if I were in his shoes. Still, I was kind of hoping that the partying wouldn't get in the way of a good performance.

I won't attempt a song-by-song, but I'll mention some high points and low points. The "AC/DC Bag" jam was very exploratory--they strayed away from the chord progression of the tune within the first 30 seconds of the jam, and never came home. "Bowie" was pretty hot too--and Trey got it about 85% correct, pretty good compared to some of the other more complex compositions (specifically YEM and Guyute, on which he only hit about the 50% mark). Overall, the show was not the most energetic, but the jams headed in all kinds of directions, and kept me interested. Mostly, I just looked forward to getting some decent sleep and feeling better for the Sunday show.

Sunday Show: "Brian Adams, meet Brian Adams."

We got wise on Sunday and went into the show early, and brought a tarp to sit on. We got much closer to the stage this time, a little ways behind the soundboard and slightly off to Page's side of the stage. We danced in our socks and managed to keep our tarp clean for most of the night. Our friend Traul from Colorado stumbled upon us before the show started, and joined us on the tarp. He introduced us to the friend he was with…yet another guy named Brian Adams, same name as our bassist! Perhaps there's something about the name Brian Adams that causes guys to be musicians--this particular Brian Adams is a guitarist from Minnesota, and a very cool guy. Anyway, we were well-stocked on all kinds of party favors, and the show kicked off nicely with a Mike's Groove.

The whole first set was pretty good…still not the most energetic set I've ever heard, but a good selection of tunes. Trey told us that Fishman was the Wolfman's Brother...news to me! The second set, though, is where things started to get emotional. Page got choked up during "Velvet Sea," and I think they might have even ended the tune early. The choked-upedness continued into "Glide," and the vocals sounded kind of shabby; when they finished, a still-emotional Trey said, "You know what? I think we just need to blow off some fuckin' steam." With that, Fish kicked off "Split Open & Melt" and they threw down a pretty raging jam, with a segue into "Ghost" to end off the set. It was probably the most powerful moment of the weekend.

The Curtain Falls

The third and final set on Sunday was surprisingly uneventful. Throughout the set, I couldn't help but feel like the band was tired. Tired from the emotional load that the whole weekend represented, not to mention tired from 21 years of busting their asses to be one of the greatest rock bands ever. I felt genuine compassion for them; they looked almost embarrassed at their unimpressive performance, with their closest friends and family sitting right at the sides of the stage. They finished off with a decent "Slave," accompanied by some fireworks at the end. The encore was an interesting choice-"The Curtain (with)". Trey mentioned something about it being one of their earliest songs, and how it was nice to bring it back full-circle and make it the last song they played. A minute or so into the "With" section of the tune, I was thinking that something sounded kind of strange. Just then, Trey stopped the band in the middle of the tune. Trey then said something to the effect of, "If this is the last song we ever play, I want to make sure we do it in the right key." They started it over, this time a half step up, played a lackluster jam, and walked off stage for good.

I still can't quite believe the fact that they had to take a mulligan on the last song they ever played.

Don't get me wrong; I have been a HUGE Phish fan for about 13 years now, and I was glad to have been a part of their farewell weekend. But all in all, it would be a stretch for me to say that the trip was worthwhile. I was mentally prepared to sit in line to get in, but 45 hours was quite a bit more than I had in mind. I'm well aware that we can't control Mother Nature, but I think the entire festival was not well-organized. And I'm still getting over my bitterness toward the Bunny for lying to us all weekend and telling us that we'd get into the festival no problem. I missed out on catching up with old friends who were at the festival because I was stuck in line for three days and two nights. Oh yeah-also bought a bunk 10-strip on Saturday. Should've known better--got a bad vibe from the guy right off the bat--but was in a hurry to get into the show.

On top of that, I had spent the whole summer thinking that Coventry could possibly be two of the best Phish shows since hiatus. I was at Deer Creek (Verizon) in June and I thought it was amazing; I figured they would be building up to some mind-blowing shit at Coventry, and really go out with a bang. But I have to be honest and say that the performances were disappointing. From reading around on the message boards on the Web, it seems that most people agree with me. In fact, it seems like a lot of people are genuinely pissed off about it.

But here's the thing. Phish doesn't owe me anything. They don't owe you anything either. They have created some of the coolest music I've ever heard (or played) in my life. I have personally watched them nail "Fluffhead" flawlessly at least 3 or 4 times (though it's been a while!). I've seen them play "YEM", "David Bowie," "Reba," and "Divided Sky" perfectly more times than I can even count. And I have seen them throw down hundreds of jams that could be described as nothing less than epic. They have blown my mind in ways that I didn't even know it could be blown. And they have done it while jumping up & down on trampolines. They simply don't have to prove anything to me any more. They mean more to me than any band that has ever existed.

So, despite having a more or less shitty experience at Coventry, I still have to say I'm glad I was there. The Northeast Kingdom of Vermont is almost indescribably beautiful (and that's coming from a guy who looks at the Continental Divide right out his bedroom window). I had never seen it before, and now I can see how it inspired such a great band. And even though there were 70,000 of us there, when I looked at Trey, Mike, Page, and Fish onstage, I felt like I was hanging out with old friends who I had known my whole life. I've been a fan for a long, long time and I was glad that I could be with them right up until the end.

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