The group sometimes gets flack for
their forays into Hebrew music.
31 minutes through a variety of
textures, moods and tempos.
The band members cite avant-
gardists such as Frank Zappa
and Sun Ra as musical sources,
but the crucial influence is the
Grateful Dead — though the
Phish men protest that they dis-
play a different musical sensi-
bility and more of a sense of
humor than their Bay Area fore-
bears.
Still, it's clear that Phish has
picked up quite a bit from the
Dead, particularly its grass-roots
approach to serving and nurtur-
ing its fan base. Since forming in
1983 at the University of Ver-
mont, the group has used
mailing lists, newsletters, hot-
lines and Internet sites
(httpi/www.phish.net ) to build a
sense of community among its fol-
lowers — and to sell them lots of
concert tickets, albums, T-shirts
and other merchandise.
There's no question it's
worked. When the group played
its first show at Nectar's in
Burlington, one person — a col-
lege friend — attended. In 1994,
Phish sold $10.3 million worth
of tickets and sold out a show at
Madison Square Garden in New
York. More than 85,000 Phish
Heads get the five-times-a-year
newsletter "Doniac Schvice." An-
other 40,000-plus check into
phish.net.
With that level of success, it's
no surprise that some are ex-
pecting Phish to fill the void that
may occur in the wake of Jerry
Garcia's death last August. But
that's speculation that Gordon —
Phish's most ardent Dead Head
— is quick to scuttle.
"That's really just a bunch .of
talk," Gordon says. "No one could
be the next Dead because they
were who they were. They had
something going on that no oth-
er band had. So to say anyone
could be the next Dead would just
be wrong."
Growing up, Gordon was more
likely to be singing prayer and
Hebrew folks'songs than rock 'n'
roll. His father, Robert Gordon,
owned a chain of 7-11 type stores
called Store 24 and was a leading
figure in Boston's Jewish com-
munity, particularly active in the
Soviet Jewry movement.
The younger Gordon, mean-
while, attended a Solomon
Schecter school in Newton, Mass.,
from kindergarten through sixth
grade. His wasn't a devout syna-
gogue-going family, though they
would light candles every Friday
night. The rocker hasn't been ob-
servant since his college days,
and Phish has been known to
perform on Friday nights and on
High Holidays.
And while there's not much
controversial to what Phish does
— though Fishman's penchant
for wearing dresses and occa-
sionally prancing around the
stage nude raises a few eyebrows
— Gordon says Phish periodical-
ly gets flack for its forays into He-
brew music. The arrangements
of "Aveinu Malkeinu" and
"Jerusalem of Gold" aren't par-
ticularly reverent, but Gordon
says there's no disrespect in-
tended.
"Most of the time, it's the oth-
er way around," he says. "If there
are Jews there...it stirs up some-
thing inside them that they re-
member from temple. I think it
gives some credibility to that mu-
sic, and if we sing it with some
passion, it gives a real heart to
the notion of Judaism for these
people.
"When we do those songs, it's
always with a spiritual feeling,
and I really think that translates
to the crowds." ❑
9
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