Learn & Tell

This was published seven years ago. It is re-printed here for your perusal and discussion.

Set the Gearshift: Phish as Catalyst to Ecstasy

Table of Contents

How does music move us to ecstasy?
The answer is: Nobody knows. (And do we really need to know?)

But, for the thinkers out there, here’s a possibility…

[Throughout this essay, titles of songs will be capitalized and in quotes (ie. “My Soul”). However, unless obviously intended as a reference to a song, these are meant to be read simply as words in the sentence.]

1. The Question

Eyes closed, arms surfing the tide of the sound waves about to knock me out of myself, feet jumping, hips shaking, Phish jamming so explosively that I’m squinting, looking for that note, that one burst from the mess that ties it all together, that makes harmony out of mayhem and orders the universe so that my skin chills and “My Soul” elevates to the ideal, the one I wish I could exist in. What is this magical world of musical transcendence?

For me, Phish is an intoxicant, a musical addiction that is most effective live and continuous. I feel torn and disengaged from bliss after they stop playing, and swallow my saliva like I’m choking, gazing around, blinking in the bright, discombobulating light at all the fellow faces of confusion. I have experienced ecstasy this night and leaving the concert hall is like leaving the warm and fluid comfort of the womb in to the cold and hazardous world. During the performance, every piece of my world, every thought, every emotion, every dance move, had come together, synchronized by the musical Pied “Piper[s]” Trey, Mike, Paige, and Jon. Every note, every beat had drifted into my brian and propelled me from myself into the freedom of the imagination, where I feel like bursting with light and joining the music in its immortality.

Do you know what I mean?

But this ecstasy is only caused by sound waves rippling through the air. I wonder how sound waves can move me so powerfully; how, at the end of “Punch You in the Eye,” I feel I could take on an evil tyrant; how, during “Silent in the Morning,” I can vividly remember my first love in a golden-sunned backdrop, can smell her brown curls over her bare shoulders; how during “Prince Caspian,” I feel like spreading my arms and sailing over the crowd, carried aloft by the sheer energy rising in plumes.

This prose I’ve written, this attempt at poetry, is pitiful in its reach to capture the essence of my ecstasy. How can words describe the bliss of music? (There is just as much complexity as using music to describe words). People try, but language only acts as a reminder, a prod to the soul to reminisce about the musical peaks unattainable in other arts. The fact is that language falls short. Language is powerful in its own respect, but music is much more immediate. And how can one use a concrete appeal to the intellect to describe an ethereal appeal to the emotions?

Additionally troubling, in exploring music through language, we are in danger of destroying the mystery of that which we love. As Wordsworth said, “We murder to dissect.” But, since I am human, driven by an innate curiosity and wonder, I must dissect in order to understand, and therefore improve upon, or recreate. Without exploring the innards of dead bodies, we cannot keep live ones healthy. The wonderful thing about music is that it cannot be killed, so let us begin the dissection. You may not appreciate Phish, but certainly you can appreciate being carried away by a good tune. Well, you should know what I’m talking about if you plan to continue reading. I am here to examine how this happens, and how Phish is a perfect example, for me, of music meant to move its listeners to transcendence.

Next: Part II (Some Science)