Since 1992, musician Gordon has kept a unique list in his journal titled Bass Playing Thoughts. Within its pages lie entries that often resemble philosophical musings or koans, such as: A high note can be felt as low, repeated. This journal has evolved into a valuable repository for his self-reflection and growth as an artist. Gordon shared, Acceptance has been a big theme for Phish over the years. He recalls a time in the nineties when the band would huddle backstage between sets, discussing the performance. However, they soon decided such discussions were off-limits. Gordon noted, For me, the shows got twice as good at that point, because I knew that I wasnt going to be judged.

Fishman, another band member, echoed a sentiment from the legendary jazz musician Charlie Parker, stating: Study and study and learn everything you can, and then forget that shit and play. He described the ambient jam as the safest, most comfortable place I know in life. This highlights the bands philosophy of preparation paired with spontaneity, a balance they have honed over the years.

One of the most anticipated moments during a Phish concert is a fleeting experience that fans often describe as transcendent. It doesnt occur at every show, and articulating it requires a certain willingness to sound a bit mystical. It usually manifests approximately ten to twenty minutes into an extended jam, when the band achieves an almost otherworldly synchronicity, both among themselves and with the audience. This elusive moment has been a crucial part of the band's identity since their inception. I experienced it firsthand during the Mondegreen jama brief yet delightful escape from reality.

Musically, Phish skillfully intertwines three fundamental elements: structured composition, improvisation, andcontrary to popular beliefcatchy pop hooks. While many ardent fans lean towards their more elaborate and sprawling songs, the band's most streamed tracks, such as Farmhouse, Sample in a Jar, and Bouncing Around the Room, are undeniably infectious earworms. These seemingly opposing elements are harmoniously balanced in Phish's music, which is arguably their most defining achievement. Every aspect is vital in the rare moments when a magical trapdoor swings open during a performance.

In a text exchange after a show at Moon Palace, a luxurious resort in Mexicos Riviera Maya, Anastasio reflected on the intensity of the night, mentioning feelings of gratitude, heavy emotions, and the raw energy released during their performance. He directed me toward a particular jam from Twenty Years Later, the closing track on the bands twelfth album, Joy, released in 2009. The lyrics, co-written with Tom Marshall, resonate deeply, reflecting on the consequences of excess:

I can hold my breath for a minute or so
Five days without food is as long as Ill go
I didnt sleep once for four days and three nights
I once didnt stop for seven red lights

About five minutes into the song, the band begins to coalesce, creating a sound that feels electric and alive. While Phish is predominantly known for their euphoric sounds, they also venture into darker, more brooding territories, which fans affectionately term Evil Phish. A quintessential example of this phenomenon is the song Carini, which features a menacing riff and haunting lyrics: I saw you with Carini and that naked dude! Though Twenty Years Later conveys a message of hope, the improvisational jams can take on a heavier tone, showcasing the band's emotional depth. Anastasio shared that often, during these moments, it feels like the safety rails fall off, allowing him to connect with his own vulnerability. He expressed, It feels like pure emotion when the music gets like that. No sense of notes or scales. Just energy. He believes that this is the essence of what draws people to their concerts.

Experiencing such dissociative bliss is not exclusive to rock concerts; it is a phenomenon often found in various forms of traditional music, such as Hindu bhajans or Gregorian chants. I recall vividly feeling something similar while listening to a Roma clarinettist play a mirologi in the Pindus Mountains of northern Greece, amid the stillness of the night. Its remarkable that Phish fans can regularly encounter this spiritual doorway to bliss in settings as unexpected as minor-league hockey arenas.

When that portal opens, I dont remember a single thing, Fishman remarked, emphasizing the subjective experience of transcendence. He likened his best gigs to those he has little recollection of because during those performances, he taps into uncharted territories, doing things on the drums that are spontaneous and instinctual. I have to go back and learn stuff that happened in jams that I dont actually know how to do, he added.

During one of our conversations, I asked Anastasio to describe the feeling of being onstage when the band stumbles upon that mystical portal. Ill pick a jam and try to describe whats going on, he reflected. He recounted a performance from Camden, New Jersey, in 1999, during Chalk Dust Torture. After several minutes, he described a spontaneous key change leading to a profound musical conversation among the band. I throw out a melodic phrase, something we can all jump on. That leads to another spontaneous key change, which can only happen if were all fully listening. And then the universe opens up, and I feel like I dont exist, he shared. The sensation of being connected not only to the music but also to the audience amplifies the experience. I feel entirely connected to the people way back on the lawn, he continued, expressing how it feels to be lost in the moment, only to be pulled back down to earth after a short while. Its a fleeting glimpse behind the curtain of creativity and connection, and it can be bittersweet.

Phish kindly invited me to visit Anastasios recording studio, which is situated in a barn in the picturesque Green Mountains just outside Burlington. My visit in February coincided with a heavy snowfall, leading to a tense drive up the lengthy, winding driveway. Upon arrival, I found Anastasio and McConnell at a wooden table, enjoying sandwiches. Anastasio, filled with enthusiasm, jumped up to give me a tour, exclaiming, I love giving the tour! I get very excited. As we stepped onto a deck that overlooked the mountain vista, he shared the story of acquiring the seventy-acre property and the two-hundred-year-old barn for just a thousand dollars. Thats Mt. Mansfield, he said, pointing to a prominent peak. See that white patch? The barn was down there. The structure was carefully disassembled and relocated by skilled woodworkers, a process that Anastasio proudly documented in a photo album. Thats me, working the saw, he said with a grin. They let me help out. Theres me hammering while they drink beer.

The interior of the studio is warm, rustic, and inviting. There isnt a single chain or screw that was bought new at a hardware store. Anything that got worse when it got old, we didnt use, he explained as he showed me around. The light fixtures are salvaged from a local school, while tiles for the shower were crafted from an old blackboard. The studio features several beautiful stained-glass windows, and each element holds significance for Anastasio, from a davenport belonging to his grandmother to a mosaic tabletop made by his mother. These two seats from the Spectrum arena in Philadelphia are particularly meaningful, he said. When my dad took me to see the Flyers win the Stanley Cup, we sat in those seats. The floorboards are made from trees cut down to create the driveway, reflecting Anastasios commitment to a space that feels authentic and homey. Weve done at least fifteen albums here. Long projects, where everybodys staying up till two oclock in the morning, running around, skateboarding, whatever. These are random sizes, rough-planed on one side. We wanted people to be able to spill beer and feel good. I didnt want anything fancy.