Don’t be digging into Parke Puterbaugh’s new Phish: The Biography looking for details of who consumed how many drugs and how wasted they were when they did – and shame on you if you do. Move on, my friend; be glad that all hands have returned from the dark side and are smiling once again. I suppose you could say that Puterbaugh’s love for the band no doubt tempered his attack, but there’s not a whole lot left out that we need to know – and what’s here is a good read for those who love the band.
Puterbaugh’s access to the world of Phish came as a result of a Rolling Stone assignment back in 1995. He rolled into the driveway of their rehearsal space in Burlington, VT basically knowing of the band, but not much else. By the time he headed back home (his maiden voyage with Phish included sitting in on a practice, a two-day Red Rocks weekend, and a marathon interview session with Trey Anastasio and Mike Gordon), Puterbaugh was, in his words, “totally captured.”
Though the original Rolling Stone article zinged off into editorial limbo, it was the key to Puterbaugh’s access to Phish’s inner circle (he eventually became their in-house writer). Over the years (including the period after the breakup and the eventual reunion), Puterbaugh stockpiled interviews with everyone from longtime employees and management people to the band themselves. No doubt, Phish followers know much of the basic story, but the close-to-home observations provided by Puterbaugh’s interviews are the makings of this book. From the beginnings of Anastasio’s 8th-grade friendship with lyricist Tom Marshall to the happy accidents during their college years that brought Phish together, it’s all here. (“Oh my God, it’s you?” Anastasio exclaimed when he found out that Jon Fishman, the “determined-looking troll” he’d seen around campus was the source of the amazing drums behind the door of Room 210.) Puterbaugh delves into the practice regimes that allowed the band to explore uncharted waters in jam situations by developing and strengthening their musical bond. And as the beast grows, the evolution is well charted, from the “Can you believe it?” days of the early successes to the trudge of lost focus and misplaced priorities that led to the band’s breakup.
Although the dark side is addressed (and insight provided by observations from those who lived it), it’s done with a level of respect rather than a paw-through-the-trash manner. Anastasio’s personal downward spiral is certainly talked about (much of it in his own words), but mainly on the level of the emotions involved. The same rules apply to the band’s relationships and families: there’s a healthy distance kept – and in the end, why shouldn’t there be?
Originally, Puterbaugh began the book not knowing that there would ever be another Phish show played after the darkness of Coventry in August of 2004. But, as only a true Phishhead would, once rumors began flying of a reunion, he stalled publication in order to capture the (hoped-for) joy of the band’s rebirth. Puterbaugh’s epilogue is a one-on-one with Anastasio conducted this past July.
This is how I see it: what if Jerry Garcia had made it through 1995? What if he’d cleaned up, gotten healthy, taken some time for himself … and then fired the Dead back up in a manner that was manageable and humane? Well, if he had, Blair Jackson’s Garcia: An American Life or Dennis McNally’s A Long Strange Trip (the two best Dead books ever written) would’ve ended more like Puterbaugh’s Phish – as celebrations, rather than eulogies.
Be thankful that Phish: The Biography ends the way it does. And let’s not dwell on the darkness, but instead enjoy the light.
