A few weekends ago, I found myself in Coventry, Vermont, at what
was to be the last Phish show ever. It was in late May when the
band announced that this summer’s tour would mark the end of
the band—for good. Phish fans (or Phans, as they sometimes
like to call themselves) exhibited a variety of reactions, ranging
from denial to anger to depression. For most of these people, Phish
had been a major part of their lives. Some had been to over a
hundred Phish shows, for which they would do or pay anything to get
a ticket. When they weren’t at concerts, they dedicated their
time to taping and trading shows. To say that Phish was a band is
an understatement: they were a lifestyle.

Many of these diehard Phisheads expressed anger at the band for
calling it quits. Most of their feelings were directed at Trey
Anastasio, the lead singer and guitarist, who was said to have been
the driving force behind the breakup. Phans felt betrayed, and some
felt that the decision came too early in Phish’s career.

Let me let you in on a little secret. Wine and cheese may get
better as they age, but people, especially drug addicts, tend to
deteriorate (and if you try to say Trey isn’t on coke, just
refer back to his retelling of the same exact story—word for
word—two nights in a row at Coventry, accompanied by frequent
nose scratching). Yes, in their early years, Phish constantly grew
and improved musically. They developed a devoted group of fans that
kept growing, and produced something new and amazing every step of
the way. It seemed like each album that came out was better than
the last.

Well, they eventually reached their peak musically, and in
recent years they have been slowly deteriorating. No one can
dispute the fact that Phish doesn’t play the way they did
five or 10 years ago. Just listen to the version of
“Stash” (one of Phish’s more popular live
selections) played at Coventry and compare it to an earlier
recording of the song to hear the change; it is painful to listen
to Trey stumbling over such a familiar song. At the show, whole
sections were skipped over in “Reba,” and Anastasio
butchered one of my personal favorites, “Glide.”

I know that many Phans reading this right now are getting ready
to scream at me. First let me assure you that I am quite a diehard
Phishead myself. I don’t hate the band or hold anything
against Trey, as you may assume from what I just wrote. Please
don’t tell me I’m not a “true” Phish fan
because of what I am saying. But you cannot blindly defend the band
without considering reality.

I love Phish just as much as ever, despite their recent musical
decline and somewhat weak final show, and that’s why
I’m happy to see the band call it quits. Well, maybe I
wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m happy, but I realize
that the end has been in sight over the last few years, and I think
the decision is appropriate, as personally detrimental as it may be
to me or other Phans.

Many musicians die young, perhaps before their prime: Jimi
Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin. Others continue playing music
well past their better years. The Dead still tour—long after
the years during which the band produced its best music, and long
after they lost Jerry. Crosby, Stills, and Nash toured this summer,
as well. Perhaps aging baby boomers feel a twinge of nostalgia
seeing the musicians of their youth perform, though it’s
clear that they don’t sound the way they did once upon a
time, and everyone inevitably comments about how depressing it is
to see the artists now—they look so old.

I’m glad that 20 years from now I won’t be dragging
my kids to a Phish show, recounting stories of my adolescence, only
to expose them to a voiceless Trey Anastasio, bald Page
O’Connell, obese John Fishman, and wrinkled Mike Gordon
(although, who knows, if anyone in that band is immortal, it is
definitely Mike).

Phish had over 20 great years of music, which is far more than
most bands can even dream of achieving. Over those 20 years they
experimented with a huge variety of musical styles, fusing them
together to create their own unique sound that nobody could come
close to replicating. They put out over 10 studio and 20 live
albums, covered bands ranging from the Talking Heads to the Beatles
to Pink Floyd, and had some unbelievable shows. If you were lucky
you made it to some of those shows, and even if you didn’t,
at least you were alive to appreciate the band during part of their
era (you and I both know that we all resent our parents for having
been around to see some of the greatest bands of all time).

Either way, don’t resent Phish because they’re
calling it quits. Respect them for their decision to do the right
thing at the right time. Be proud that you can call yourself a
Phan. And I assure you, your life will go on. There will be other
bands. You can start following the String Cheese Incident around
the country, or you can become a crack-head Disco Biscuit fan. And
if listening to jam bands is just too painful for you now that
Phish is over, you can always turn to emo or indie rock. As for me,
I’ve gotten over my initial melancholy and have started the
slow process of recovery.