What’s the frequency, Kenneth?

Phish Atlantic City 2021 culminated more than 24 hours ago, but there’s a tingling in my body that’s just resurged. Although the “Sail away on the Block Island Ferry” jingle initially woke me, it’s this tingling that’s both preventing me from falling back asleep and driving me to seek a creative outlet.

I never needed you like this before. Sure I liked you, often loved you, but more often than not I needed the music to end and the people to go so I could retreat and regroup in a less stimulating environment. There were years when truly there was no more to give, the well was dry. Those were gap years spent away from Phish, on their end or mine. My own personal break occurred most notably 2017-2018. There was work to be done on the homefront, I barely had enough energy for myself, never mind anyone else.

I got back on the train in 2019 with some holiday weekend runs close to home: Fenway for Independence Day, The Dunk for Thanksgiving. But it’s tough to straddle Phishing and Adulting. 11.29 and 11.30 brought Bug, Biggie Brunch, and a Big Black Furry Creature from Mars; but 12.1 brought a Cub Scout float in a holiday parade. Hubs was Woodstock, I rolled in as Peppermint Patty. Let’s get weird.

We didn’t have to wait long: 3 1/2 months later things got really weird, and although we had already made our plans for Phish on the beach in Atlantic City, there was not much fun to be had in 2020. It was a bummer on the best days, a bottomless pit on the worst. We sought solace however we could. Dinner and a Movie gave us a momentary escape; Trey and the Beacon Jams gently guided us out of 2020. Then we waited for a light to shine, leading us through the darkness.

2021 brought vaccines and hope and live music back to the U.S. The doors opened and we advanced, some of us eager to ride the rail, many of us cautiously stepping forward into the sand. We reconnected beside the Atlantic, under the stars, wary eyes trained on the heat lightning just off in the distance. There’s electricity in the air, and we are seeking to understand it, to bend it to our will. And so we gathered.

Although this was my first 3 night Phish run ever (did a 4 night run for 2003 NYE Miami), I could immediately see the value of a 3 night run. First night we’re settling in, finding our footing, learning from our mistakes. Second night is for tweaking, exploring, enhancing. 3rd night is aiming for mastery, while also surrendering to the flow, collaboratively, as a unit.

Trey wasn’t lying when he said Sunday night was magical. It was. We all felt it, the collective retuning, of our vibrations, of our souls, of our frequencies. We showed up, with a lingering promise to be present, kind, open and together. We formed our set list requests, speaking them out loud or wearing them in the form of Ziggy Stardust earrings, wondering if they’ve been received. And then we waited with an urgent expectancy, wanting the show to start, but not wanting it to be over. Not yet. If we end by going backwards, does that mean we get more time? ***

We are home now. The lights and sights of Atlantic City, although sparkly and bright and enticing, were not what I came for. They certainly enhanced the experience, as did the ocean waves, pineapple margaritas, and birds flocking outside. It’s the energy exchange that I crave, the feeling as one with my community, like a valued participant in a game I thought I forgot how to play.

Just like Phish 4.0 is on a different level, Phans 4.0 seems to be too. Not that I speak from vast experience: unless something changes, these will be my only Phish shows of 2021. Reality beckons, as it always does, and I must heed its call. The tingling still lingers though, and I lie here in this moment that never ends, wading in the velvet sea between sleep and consciousness and creation…until we meet again.