Concert Review: Pink Talking Fish (2/3/24)
Allow me, if you will, to introduce you to a concept so wild, an idea so ludicrous, ingenious, and lofty, that it's never before been done (much less attempted): mastering the likes of Pink Floyd, The Talking Heads, and Phish. Three of the most abstract, conceptually intricate bands to exist. But woven together all at once. What musical nerds (or geniuses, take your pick) would attempt such a melding of music? Meet the Pink Talking Phish. Yes, you read that right. Yes, it is what you think it is.
What sort of people need to come together to form a band that not only aims for, but achieves, this complex musical mesh? Four ordinary, friendly guys - the kind that’ll stand in the cold and smoke a cigarette with you after the show and listen patiently to your review.
First up is Eric Gould - seemingly unpresumptuous bassist who, in my humble opinion, is the glue of this helter-skelter band, as well as “the one who came up with this concept” - and it shows. Drawing inspiration from the likes of Cymande, Herbie Hancock, and Sly & The Family Stone, he touts an impressive resume as a previous member of the late and great Particle - another band known for exploring the edges and borders of genres.
Now that you’ve met the mad scientists behind this genius/insane-but-definitely-high experiment, let’s return to reality and the concert - held at Auburn’s Odd Fellows Lodge (ie, “The Foothill Fillmore”) and oh-so-generously hosted by Keep Smiling Productions. Let me set the scene:
The first thing you’ll notice about the venue is the almost absurdly plush, deep carpeting under your feet (rare to encounter a carpeted venue, though understandable – especially as the night went on and beers were spilt). Your attention, though, will quickly be drawn to the entirety of the room; almost as if mass or a Girl Scout Badging Ceremony had recently ended, the cozy space features a single small stage (donned with proudly-displayed American flags hanging in the background) – and that’s about it.
The simple, humble nature of the room was a perfect canvas for the signature light show frequently present at the venue – which deserves its own featured article, if you ask me. Beaming radiantly across every inch of all four walls was a psychedelic visual show straight out of the Electric Kool-Aid Acid tests. From graphics of sexy silhouetted women to new-wave-style minimalist flashes of black and white patterns, the awe-inspiring light show followed the vibrations and intensity levels of the band through every twist and turn.
I must admit, dear reader, that I found myself in line for a drink as the band started up - always a disappointment, but a commitment we make nonetheless. However, even from the next room over as I waited for my tequila and sprite, I could sense the energy of the crowd as the band kicked the night off with Phish’s “Ha Ha Ha” (these virgin ears took in this song for the first time that night; I’m still trying to wrangle the wild world of Phish).
By the time I’d returned to the lit-up and almost palpably-vibrating room, the band had sunk their teeth deep into an incredibly true-to-form version of Pink Floyd’s “Money” - the crowd had relaxed into a singular swaying mass of people sharing a journey together.
Said journey took a quick turn as the band somehow perfectly transitioned from the dark and brooding “Money” into The Talking Heads’ “I’ve Got a Girlfriend”, a bouncy pick-me-up that prepared us for a personal highlight of the evening: a wild roller coaster ride on Phish’s “Bathtub Gin” - a song repeatedly teased at absolutely unexpected moments throughout the evening (smack dab in the middle of Floyd’s “Pigs”, for instance). “Gin” began as it typically would, with James slamming away on the keyboards and Kehoe pushing the song along with the ever-recognizable melody that carries the song. It wasn’t until we’d all thought the song was coming to a close that the real fun began; the collective tempo shifted from its laid-back walking pace to a gradual mosh-pit-worthy allegro that had us all struggling to keep up with dancing, especially atop such soft and lush carpeting.
First set ended with a funky stroll through Phish’s “Moma Dance”, a dance-y and laid-back respite after the hotfoot “Gin” we’d all expended our energy dancing our way through. And to great applause, the band exited, and the crowd smoked weed.
Set two began with a decision made by us, your humble dancers, after being posed the following quandary by the band: Would we rather hear Phish’s “The Curtain”, or the classic “Foreplay/Long Time” by Boston (allowed on the setlist, I later learned, because Phish has covered the song perhaps twice in their career)? To little surprise, the crowd opted for Boston’s energetic, dynamic hit - which was covered well, coming from someone who can admit she is not typically a Boston fan.
Whatever feelings I may have had about the “Foreplay” cover dissipated as the band tweaked a perfect transition into the complex orchestral masterpiece of Phish’s “Divided Sky”, sending the crowd rocketing into the sky onto a singular shared cloud of bliss — the emotional rollercoaster of this show, I cannot stress enough, was unlike any I’ve ever ridden.
As quickly as the crowd had settled into the ethereal, dreamy rapture of “Divided Sky”, the band ripped the plush carpet from beneath our feet with a swift and sly maneuver into the raw ferocity of Floyd’s “Pigs.” As if previously asked, the crowd collectively floated down from our Cloud Nine of “Divided Sky” and raged with varying levels of passion to the band’s version of “Pigs”, which they did not rush nor alter much at all; I looked around to find the whole lot of us shouting the lyrics as if we were front and center at a political rally at one point – but hadn’t we just been blissed out in the Divided Sky?! As a reminder that indeed we had, the band dropped in a few appropriate-yet-inappropriately-placed teases of “Bathtub Gin.”
Upping the ante on tongue-in-cheek mood shifts, the band wrenched us from a long and angsty “Pigs” right into the bubbly, lovey-dovey “Home (Naive Melody)” by The Talking Heads. And suddenly, we were lifted back up as one and our distressed emotive faces quickly morphed into those full of love, marriage proposals, feelings of young love, yadda yadda. As light and joyfully as David Byrne’s lamp, the crowd bopped and melted to the gushy lyrics of one of the best love songs of all time (if you ask me - which you can, and I’ll tell you I’m correct). The quite literally shocking emotional exchange from “Pigs” into “Home” was perhaps my favorite moment of the night - an act of dark comedy and a commentary on all the shit in life I love to critique. A major kudos to the band for this boldly satirical choice.