| For the second year in a row, my journey to Hampton proved to be a magical experience. Everything about the trip seemed surreal, from the bright colors of the extended autumn to Phish covering Will Smith's Getting Jiggy Wit' It. I couldn't make the Thursday night concert in North Carolina, but took Friday off for a memorable two-night stand at the now legenedary Hampton Coliseum in Virginia. Adam picked me up in Manhattan on Thursday evening and we set out south. The setlists for the shows are still nestled in a corner of my wallet somewhere. |
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Walking out of a gas station on our first pit stop in Virginia, I
found
Adam
playing beneath this tree.
Coming from the cold northeast, the warmth and the sight of foliage overjoyed both of us. I snapped two shots before approaching, and another as I walked up to him. In T-shirts and Tevas, we discovered summer for one last time in 1998. And it was glorious. |
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We checked into the Motel 6 in Newport News, which I always thought was a very peculiar name for a city. We met some heads in the lobby that were friends of Mike and Dave from New Orleans, but those guys were still on their way north from North Carolina (lucky bastards). Within an hour, I reunited with my tour buddies, still glowing from the previous night's show. I wasn't terribly upset we missed it; we had two nights in Hampton. Nothing compares. In the picture below, Sam and his girlfriend Scott (her name is Jessica Scott, but everyone calls her Scott) are standing between their room at the Motel 6 and Sam's trusty Ford Explorer, complete with stickered Thule. |
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The friday night concert was one of the finest musical experiences of my life. Phish opened with the arena-rock theme song, Rock N' Roll II, better known as na-na-na-na-Hey!, then followed with one of their most complex, creative original tunes, Tube. But it got better. After having a long conversation about Bob Dylan with a stranger in my row, Phish covers The Mighty Quinn (The Eskimo), a song the Dead frequently encored with. An enormous fan of Bob Dylan, I was in heaven. They went on to play 10 more songs during the first set including 15-minute versions of Possum and Split Open and Melt. The second set was perfect. The beauty of Piper slammed into the powerhouse Axilla, which was followed by the funky Ween cover, "Roses are Free." But when Fishman took center stage -- wearing his Henrietta dress and a viking helmet -- and began rapping Getting Jiggy Wit' It, I lost it. The funniest thing I've ever seen. From five rows away, I watched Fishman grunt while Trey kept the beat on drums and Page sang backup, "Na-na-na-na na-na-na-na-na." I was laughing hysterically the entire time. |
| Back at the hotel, we met up with Pat, who I had met just three weeks
earlier in Las Vegas.
He was with his sister, two other friends, and his dog, Harry Hoody (which
Phish played after the Jiggy).
The five of them crashed in one side of the room while Adam
and I shared the other.
Adam took this picture of us all in the room. Pat is scribbling the night's setlist in his journal, and I'm playing The Mighty Quinn, which is easier than you might imagine. |
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Waking up on Saturday, Adam and I were determined not to waste away the day, the last really nice one for a long, long time. It was sunny and about 65 degrees. With everyone else still passed out, we decided to drive until we found some place nice. Two miles on the I-64, a highway sign read, "Nature Resort Park." Three very nice words, describing exactly what we were searching for. We explored the park and its magnificent scenery. We played frisbee golf with faraway trees as we wandered. It was simply too pretty. Click on any pictures below for a full size image. |
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We found a fruit market while cruising around and stocked up
on fresh nectarines, the perfect mid-show energy booster.
Adam
later had his taken away by security despite his claim that, "I'm a diabetic;
I'll die without these."
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Once at the Coliseum, everyone readied themselves for the 6 p.m. doors
rush. And once again, succeeded in getting great seats, although this time
on the spacious Fishman side. Lo, what a night.
Wilson to start, straight into Big Black Furry Creature From Mars. It was gonna be nuts. The BBFCFM that night finally made the version in the Poster out-of-date. (Though our color edition would later pay tribute.) With a few of Phish's most beautiful compositions, Divided Sky, Guyute, Foam and Wading in the Velvet Sea, Phish dove into the sweetest covers imaginable. The Beatles' Cry Baby Cry (my first), Stevie Wonder's Boogie on Reggae Woman, the traditional Nellie Kane (also my first) and Jimi's Axis: Bold as Love. This was all in the first set, another sick 13-song performance. Over the Summer of 1998, the Beastie Boys became my second favorite touring band. Hello Nasty is pure genius, and Ill Communication has become standard in my discman. I missed the Sabotage encore in Maryland due to overactive security, and the one at the Great Went was nice, but didn't give me the completion I needed after hearing it from outside the Merriweather walls. This version provided closure. |
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As if opening a set with the Beasties' Sabotage wasn't enough, Phish followed with a Mike's Groove unlike any other. This one had a Wedge, a slice of Mango and an insane Ha Ha Ha in the jam of a Free. Encores don't always live up to expectations, and I was just so happy with the Weekapaug closer that it didn't matter what Phish played. But in keeping with the theme of crazy covers, Carl Gerhardt and Tom Marshall joined Trey to sing Chumbawumba's Tubthumping. After hearing it about 1,000 times while driving on Summer Tour, I had grown to appreciate and love it for its pop value. Cheesy, easily overplayed, but still fun as hell with the "I get knocked down!" chorus. Phish did it extremely well, and I still chuckle when I think about it. I nearly fell down upon hearing Fishman screaming "Get Jiggy Wit' It!" at the ending jam of Tubthumping. Absolutely hilarious. We stayed another night at the hotel instead of rushing home on a Saturday night. Earlier in the day, Pat used our phone cord as a leash for Harry Hoody (it was my idea) and the dumb dog bit right through it. We got a few calls that night but were helpless to pick it up. We left at noon on Sunday with the (achieved) goal to make it to New York by The Simpsons. Driving the scenic route across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, we rode atop the Atlantic Ocean for 17 miles before dipping under it for a minute. Crazy bridge. Back home I dreamed of the upcoming shows in the northeast, knowing full well that none would ever touch the Hampton pair. |
 Click above to see my Vegas '98 experience! |
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