, attached to 1997-11-13

Review by Doctor_Smarty

Doctor_Smarty I have several profound memories from my first Las Vegas Phish experience. The first is a clear memory of how unprepared many of the "old skool" fans were for the modern era of Phish. The most notable example of this was found during a setbreak trip to the bathroom with my girlfriend. She had elected to go the extra mile in the fashion department for this show, as this was after all "Vegas Baby!" Her outfit for the evening consisted of a set of those sexy-as-hell clunky black hipster girl shoes, a skin-tight ensemble of black hip-huggers with a blue and white fractal belly shirt, a glittery pink pleather jacket, and a Vegas show girl coiffure.

This apparently cutting edge fashion statement was met by an inordinately high number of sneers, hisses, and bitchy comments (apparently they figured her for a Vegas call girl and apparently disapproved of her career choice) from a whole host of the stinky, dirty, poopy-dread-headed tour-ratesses that were infesting the arena. My advice ladies"...take a shower, brush your hair, and lose the fucking Patchouli"...that shit gives me a headache. Allow me to introduce you to the future, you are not it.

My second memory is my grasping for the first time just how important the work of Mr. Kuroda is in generating the landscape through which the music meanders. During "Split Open and Melt" I actually felt like I was involved in a high-speed car chase with a State Police cruiser bearing down on my tail. Throughout the second set "Prince Caspian" and "Bouncing Around the Room" combo I was embroiled in the interchanging points of view of a man in a boat and the fish he was trying to catch swimming below him in the crystal clear waters. As the band thrashed through the "Mike's" > "Sparklepaug" that followed, this vision persisted. Although I was still viewing the underside of a boat from the perspective of a fish during this part of the show; the guy on the boat had now cranked up the outboard motor, thereby destroying the tranquility of my choral maze and cutting me and the other fish to shreds as it churned up an enormous wake of light and sound. Finally, it had become quite clear after only two visits that it was impossible to have a bad time in Las Vegas. Consequently, you can be sure that whenever Phish is there, I will be too.


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