Episode 23 - Tim Bangert

This week's guest is Tim Bangert! After a few failed attempts by some friends to get Phish to stick in Tim's ears he finally took the plunge and went to The Great Went, and the rest is history! After The Great Went, the majority of Tim's Phish shows fell into the years of '98 & '99.

We talked about Tim's First show experience, some of his favorite jams, the songs he is chasing, and what member of Phish he would most like to meet. To be featured on a future episode, shoot an email to sttf.weareeverywhere@gmail.com

Tim summed up his trip to The Great Went in an essay that you can read below.

 

How did I end up in Limestone, Maine, in August of 1997 to see a band in which I had relatively little interest? I will start the tale of my first Phish show a few years prior to that. I did know a little of the band and had a few friends loan me their music telling me how great they were, but even with all the music I chased down in used music stores and played on a weekly college radio shows, Phish was a
barely part of it.

The first time I recall hearing the name of the band was in 1992 in a local radio ad for a Santana concert. Funny story there is that the announcer said, “with special guest Phish,” over Santana’s “All I Ever Wanted.” I only knew the few Santana songs in K-SHE 95’s rotation (“Black Magic Woman,” “Oye Como Va”), so my brain immediately associated “All I Ever Wanted” with Phish. Thinking about it, that might be a fun cover for Phish to play. Phish obviously wasn’t getting played on local commercial stations in St. Louis, so that was that.

The following winter in college a guy named Joe who lived across the hall from me told me I had to listen to Phish. He handed me a copy of A Picture of Nectar. I am not certain how much of it I listened to, but I think I thought it was too goofy and underproduced as it jumped from the manic “Llama” to gentle “Eliza” and so on. I still think it’s goofy and underproduced but in a much more endearing way.

A short while later my cousin came to visit me at school. She was a senior in high school and brought a copy of Junta along. I remember hearing “Fee” and once again thinking what a goofy band this was. Why were people recommending them to me? What was I missing here?

Later that year she made me a mix tape that include The Mango Song. A strange one to hand anyone to say, hey, listen to this band! Somehow it wound its daft way into my brain with every listen. I think I thought the piano had a bit of Vince Guaraldi's sound from all the Charlie Brown specials.

In the fall of 1994, a fellow RA named Matt asks me if I play any music by Phish on my weekly college radio show. I tell him I had heard a bit, but they never did it for me. He hands me a copy of the just-released Hoist and says to give it another shot. I immediately liked the opening track “Julius” and played it on my show. I recall liking “Down with Disease,” “Sample in a Jar,” and possibly “Wolfman’s Brother” enough that I dubbed the whole thing and had it on a steady rotation in my car’s cassette deck. There were a few songs I always skipped past. “Lifeboy,” “Dog Faced Boy,” and “Demand” come to mind. I’m still not big on them and oddly enough they are the three that I have never seen live (“Riker’s Mailbox”
and “Yerushalayim Shel Zahav” notwithstanding).

Jump ahead to spring of 1996 and Andy Rosenhack, who worked in the dorms with me and showed me how to run the board and queue up songs at WRBU, returned to Peoria for Senior Walk (that’s a whole different story). We were out to lunch with a group of friends and he starts telling me about going to see Phish and how great it was. His first show was the 12/7/95 Niagara Falls show. He was also talking a lot about seeing DMB and how great they were, which I think steered the conversation because by that point DMB was pretty big on the radio. I’m pretty sure I was evangelizing for Wilco around that point in time, which seemed pretty not-Phish.

That summer I moved out to Colorado for a short time. Phish was in the news, as their four-night stand at Red Rocks was marred by the weird clashes taking place in Morrison by fans unable to get tickets to the shows. I was nowhere near it and Phish still was not really on my radar. I moved back to Illinois in
early 1997, bounced around looking for work, and ended up with a contract job in the suburbs of Chicago. It was a pretty dreary time and I was looking for a way to get out of the rut that was surely forming in the 8-to-5 world of I.T.

Andy contacts me and says I should come see Phish with him. Where are they playing? Why, in Maine! It’s a festival! I tell him sure, why not. I've been at my job a few months and deserve some time off, right? He sent me two 90-minute cassettes to prep me for the show. The first was set 2 of the first night of the Clifford Ball 1. It’s an interesting set covering a wide range of styles. The second tape was a doozy
that probably made me say “What the hell is this?” It was the Bomb Factory Tweezerfest set. Really, is that what you hand somebody when you want them to listen to live Phish for the first time? It was out there.

We wrangled another college friend Bill Korbecki to come along for the road trip. Bill lived near Chicago, so I had company for the drive to Rochester. If I recall correctly, we drove the northern route through Detroit and Niagara to get to Andy’s place in Rochester, New York. Ah, for the days when crossing into
and out of Canada didn’t require a passport or a lot of suspicion.

We didn’t head straight up to the show, though. Andy was working as a day camp counselor that summer. Bill and I tagged along to help out, as they were making tie-dye t-shirts that day. I made mine out of a Sugar 1994 Tour shirt 2. That evening Bill and I hung out at Andy’s place because he had tickets
to take his girlfriend to see James Taylor.

When he returned from the JT show we took off for Maine. It couldn’t be that far, right? It’s just getting to Massachusetts and then through a sliver of New Hampshire. Ha. Little did I realize how remote this concert would be. The route couldn’t be easier. Take I-90 east until it hits I-95 outside Boston. Head north on I-95 until the final exit before New Brunswick. Hop off and go north on US-1 and follow the traffic jam to the decommissioned Loring Air Force Base. I remember hearing on the radio local kids in Arastook County were out of school for potato harvest. The residents in the area were curious about the parade of cars winding northward, but they were gracious nonetheless.

Getting to the lot the morning of the show we were parked far back on the right side of the runway. The scale of it was overwhelming. Where the heck was the stage?

Attempting to piece together the first day of music here. The walk to the concert grounds was far but did not feel that way. Too many interesting people and too much interesting merchandise being hawked. I don’t remember much of the festival area. Andy did paint on one of the wooden planks flanking the area. Those planks would become part of the sculpture that evolved on the scaffolding to
the right of the stage. I think Andy met Page in that time, too. I had no clue who any of the band were.

1 Split Open and Melt, Sparkle, Free, The Squirming Coil, Waste, Talk, Train Song, Strange Design, Hello My Baby, Mikes Song, Simple, Contact & Weekapaug Groove. 2 I can’t believe I did that. My apologies to Bob Mould.

The show started late that afternoon. “Makisupa Policeman” holds the honor of the first live song I saw Phish play. Keyword? “Goo balls.” Me being the neophyte I am, I thought Trey said “blue balls.” Ha. I had no idea the significance of the partial “Harpua” that followed. That day warped me for how long an opening set should be at around 100 minutes. I later learned listening to the tapes that the first few
songs were a de facto soundcheck. Looking back it’s strange to think I got a daytime YEM (it’s hard to think of it without the lights) and a beautiful solo to end “Squirming Coil.” Page’s words after his bow? “Stick around.”

I knew only two songs they played that day. “Wolfman’s Brother” to open the second set and “Julius” to close it out. That helped keep things familiar for me. I was worn out late in the third set and told the guys I would meet them back at the car, so I listened to the encore from afar. Not knowing much of anything, I obviously missed the late-night DJ set the band put on in the disco tent.

The next morning was crisp and bright. Flyers had been circulating requesting participants for a mass photo shoot. The catch? It called for folks to doff their clothes. Anyone hearing this story would think I was the one who had to be dragged into such an event, but the opposite is the case. I told Bill and Andy that we should be in the photo. They thought I was bluffing and said if I was in, they’d be in, too. So sometime late that morning I led them to the staging area to sign waivers, drop our clothes near some bike racks, and parade out onto an empty stretch of runway in our birthday suits with 1,100 other people. It was not as nerve-wracking as I thought it might be. For our participation, we were supposed to be sent a copy of the photo, but unfortunately, I was bouncing between addresses at the time and mine never made it to me. Andy did receive his. The photo is rather morbid in my eyes. It’s monochrome and looks like a thousand corpses lined up on pavement, which completely belies the festive atmosphere of the shoot. While I did not receive the poster, there is proof of me in one of the pictures in 1998’s The Phish Book. Yep. My caveat for anyone seeing that page in the book is that northern Maine mornings are chilly. ;)

We meandered about that day. I was amazed at all the vending taking place, though I was still too green to understand references to songs or other cultural touchstones. I did buy a lot shirt, though. It was tie-dye, had a Phish logo with Summer Tour 97 around it, and on the back a faux Maine license plate with
GR8-WENT. It cost me $5 because it had some rips in the front and was the last of the vendor’s lot. I don’t think I ever wore it, but it’s still stowed away too cherished to be thrown out.

I remember much more of the second day of music. I loved the song “The Wedge” the moment they opened with it. Limestone blocks so large, indeed. After the set we wandered a bit for food and water. Getting back into the concert area we ended up about 20 to 25 rows back Page side. The place was buzzing as the night and cool air creeped in.

One anomaly of this show that I did not realize was Fish not wearing his trademark donut dress. He was in jeans that weekend. For the second night he had on a fleece adorned winter hat. Trey also had on a warm striped beanie for the second set. They kicked off the set with “Down With Disease” which I knew from good old Hoist. The song raged on for twenty minutes and then dropped down to a simple little guitar and bass conversation between Trey and Mike, as Page and Fish stepped to two easels on the stage. We could see the two of them painting on shaped boards, similar to those Andy had painted on in the festival area.

Trey played the chords of “Bathtub Gin” as Fish found his way back to the drum kit. The song was new to me, but it’s so catchy. The cadence of lyrics at first reminded me of Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues” and of course was familiar with its Gershwin quotes throughout. Something clicked for me right then and there. Little did I know this would be one of the signature live jams of the band’s career, but I did know something special was happening. It’s a version that never loses steam and never grows stale on repeated listenings. There’s a group on Facebook called “The Great Went Bathtub Gin Changed My Life.” I did not start the group, but I certainly understand why it was created. The song is 20 minutes of inspired playing and improvisation. As Gin wound down and melted into the quick bluegrass fix of “Uncle Pen,” we were only halfway through the set. The next 45 minutes would be just as inspired.

The next song was just as familiar because Strauss’ “Also Sprach Zarathustra” is embedded in the DNA of anyone alive after 2001: A Space Odyssey. More painting, this time Trey and Mike stepping to the easels while Fish and Page keep the jam going. What’s up with all this painting, anyway? As 2001 fades into
what becomes known as “Art Jam” on tapes, Trey tells us about creating art with the audience. The band’s planks are crowd surfed over to the scaffolding where all the planks painted by festival-goers hang in one crazy pile. The spotlight is on the newly created sculpture as the band kicks into “Harry Hood.” Another new one for me, but it’s a glorious swell.

As “Hood” drops into the post “Thank you, Mr. Miner” jam, Trey asks Chris Kuroda to cut the lights because the moon is bright and the sculpture is growing in beauty with every passing second. With that, the air begins to fill with colored lights. A glowstick war breaks out. Without the usual concert lights to dampen things, the sticks take on an epic feel. The jam seems to rise and fall with the number in the air. It was exhilarating. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. As “Hood” ended Trey tells the crowd to go get more of those things because they look amazing. 90 minutes had gone by in what seemed like 9. The crowd was floating. And we still had another set to go.

Over the course of the second set the crowd grew more dense. We had nowhere to go between sets. I remember gallon jugs of water being passed around the crowd. I was so thankful for a few sips. It sustained me through the end of the show in an incredibly cramped space.

The final set was not as epic, but introduced me to a few more facets of the band. I remember each song, but specifics of only a few. We were still pinned in with the crowd and hadn’t had a chance to sit
down in hours (maybe we did? I remember standing the whole time). I’m sure a lot of people took “Dirt” to be a chance to rest after the intricate “Guyute,” but it hit me just right. Combined with the cold air, Trey’s whistling and the simple guitar line were an emotional high point for me. The same goes with the set closing “Prince Caspian.”

I was thrilled hearing “When the Circus Comes” as the encore, since I am a big fan of the old Los Lobos tune. I didn’t realize its lyric “the day I burn this whole place down” would soon become a reality as they tore into “Tweezer Reprise.” A huge timber dressed up as a match was lit and tipped against the sculpture that an hour or two earlier we had been admiring during “Harry Hood.” The whole thing went up in an intense blaze as the encore raged. The crowd was going crazy. Wow. Is this what every Phish show is like? Maybe so, maybe not.

One of the great things about the fest were all the folks vending from their vehicles. I was famished after the nighttime sets. As we strolled back up the runway I hear a voice singing out “15 ingredient veggie burritos!” A burrito sounded like it would be perfect, so we stopped to grab one. As the woman is wrapping one up I can’t resist asking, “So, what are the 15 ingredients in this burrito?” Here’s how Andy recalls her reply: “Rice, 5 kinds of beans, cilantro, cheese, cilantro, rice, cilantro, 5 kinds of beans, cheese, rice, and cilantro.” Ha! Who am I to question that? It was delicious.

We took time to rest at the car and headed out of the base the next morning. Traffic was heavy, but moved pretty well. When we hopped on I-95 again one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen happened. Troopers were pulling cars over en masse. We were not among those targeted by the state patrol, but it was weird. The only other Maine thing we really did when we were up that way was a stop at the L.L. Bean flagship store. I bought a wool plaid cap that I recently passed on to my daughter.

The rest of the ride back to Rochester I remember mainly for Andy introducing us to the music of Ani Difranco. As the rest of the year went along, I got a bit more into Phish, but really sought out Ani’s stuff. Two completely different sounds, but artists who completely do things their own way.

The drive to Chicago is a bit of a blur to me now. I’m guessing exhaustion was setting in and we were looking forward to getting home.