There may be no more self-indulgent topic to bring up than how awesome Phish is, especially when you can layer it with a breakdown of Tahoe Tweezer and talking about ‘jam length’. Everyone knows it’s how long a jam is that matters, not the contents of it. Long Beach “Rock n Roll” was longer than the Alpharetta “Chalkdust,” therefore fans will have to accept that the former is better than the latter, and always will be. We’re writing about it in an essay using supercilious words, as a way to preserve this heightened opinion for all eternity. Because Phish is eternal and it is hyperbole to say that writing about Tahoe Tweezer might be the worst thing ever in the history of the written word.
In many ways, this is the fault of the U.S. education system creating a generation of poor writers and parents assuring kids that no matter what, they are special, wonderful people whose opinions are important and matter, no matter how far fetched and dickish they come off. Phish has played some long jams, so it’s a prime thing to talk about, since those short jams are for fucking pussies. That’s right. Take your Alpharetta Chalkdust Torture and shove it up your ass. That jam SUCKED because it wasn’t long enough.
In producing an outrageous 3200 ‘essay’ (but we all know it’s just a blog post), self-indulgent and frequent thesaurus.com users The Baby’s Mouth have given Phish fans something to read, in the hopes that it comes off as something academic, educated, and dare we say, sensible. But it does none of these things, because anyone who read their Tahoe Tweezer breakdown just lost a year of education, not to mention an hour of sifting through large words like ‘oeuvre’ and phrases like ‘blissy interstitial’, not to mention quoting Samuel Beckett. If the Zombie Apocalypse happens, Beckett is making a beeline for The Baby’s Mouth, but will come up dry when he searches for brains.
This is not to say we don’t like The Baby’s Mouth writing. Well, we don’t. We did like that ‘Cubist’ blog post. That one was good. It was long, but it was good. But it’s been downhill from there. Have you read their Twitter feed? We rest our case.
The “Tahoe Tweezer” blog post is nothing if not that rare, singular piece of writing that makes people hate the topic, and not in a ‘Oh you’ll end up hating this guy you thought you loved’ kind of way, but rather in a ‘You love this and we’re going to make you sick of it, in a milk-fed-veal meets force-fed-foie-gras-duck kind of way’. No, this isn’t going to be pretty.
What’s missing in a discussion about a long jam from a certain year is that it takes center-stage for a while, until the next big thing comes around. Remember the Cobo DWD? The Long Beach Rock n Roll? What about St. Louis Limb by Limb? Those were big jams too. But fuck ‘em, right? None of them were 30+ minutes long, which is the only metric to measure Phish by. “Can I listen to this long jam and masturbate before the Xanax fully kicks in?” – If the answer is no, then Fuck. That. Jam.
When we collectively listen to Phish, and read all about it, we set ourselves up for disappointment. There are dozens of Phish blogs out there (they are all blogs) and some are more informative than others. Phish.net has reviews of shows from trusted people, and if we don’t want to read them, well Phish.net is kind enough to only Tweet it once and be done with it. People will read and comment, but it’s nothing more than one person’s casual take on a show. Mr. Miner, quite possibly the most devoted fan who reviews every single show, has discussion areas below his reviews and musings that allows his fans to comment about his writing. But people can choose to read or not read his site, in its entirety. Ditto his book, which we have to say, makes the world’s heaviest fucking paperweight. Dave, are the pages are made of slate? Either way, we’re glad we bought two. High five!
A musical obsession that lasts more than four hours requires the attention of a doctor. No, we’re not making a Dr. Gabel reference (fuck that one-timer). Rather, we’re saying that Pfizer needs to come up with musical Viagra for those who can’t get off Tahoe Tweezer’s dick. Remember that first regular sex partner you had? How you just had a ton of sex and really loved it and were a bit pissed when it ended? What if it didn’t end? That’s like fantasizing about Tahoe Tweezer over. And over. And over. And over. Until the next big one comes along and you ride that shit till its chafing and dry.
The fact that Tahoe Tweezer is such a point of self-congratulatory bullshit is a #SlowBuild towards extremism. Hear us out. When you salivate over one core principle, one key belief, and do nothing more than talk about the same shit over and over, you become fanatical, you become obsessed and you block everything else out. You become addicted to Phish, but not in the ‘Yay, I love Phish, tour, Woohoo!’ way. Instead, in the ‘Fuck anyone who speaks ill of this band or this song or writes a satirical blog post about them. That’s right, fuck them.’ What’s happening here is you end up becoming more than an extremist with an addiction. You become… a terrorist.
The Baby’s Mouth, heretofore known as Al-Shaababy, has coerced fans into thinking that long-winded breakdowns of Tahoe Tweezer and opining as to why Phish fans are special (did you guess that they’re millennials?) are necessary things that, if read dutifully, will help you like Phish more. Shit, they even have YEMblog retweeting them. Has Stockholm Syndrome set in amongst the Phish community? These terrorists have hijacked our songs and our love of our band.
But back to the “Tahoe Tweezer.” The peaks, the keys, the transitions – why in the fuck do you need to read what someone else thinks of a song? It’s enjoyable as a group, sure, but mostly, you’re listening to it in your car, on your computer or on your iPod… ALONE! So fucking enjoy it alone and don’t worry about a breakdown of all the minutes and the phases and the exploration. Let your mind do the thinking. Think for yourself for fuck’s sake. We’re Phish fans. We’re special and we can do that special shit if we want to.
Did Trey Anastasio change the course of Rock and Roll? Fuck if we know. I don’t see Blurred Lines clocking in at 10 minutes with a Type II jam. Miley Cyrus isn’t twerking to Light. Is improv ruling the radio airwaves? No, it isn’t. Trey went to college in 1983. He graduated in 1988. In 1993 he might have married Sue, then had some kids, then played with Phish and where in the fuck did he change the course of rock and roll?
Simple answer – he didn’t. He just made awesome music with Mike Gordon, Page McConnell and Jon Fishman, because the four of them make awesome music. End of fucking story.
Now stop reading our opinion of Phish before we contradict all that we typed above. That is, all 1,240 words that were edited by Mrs. Pizza Shit.