Phish's first four albums were lampooned by critics and ignored by everyone else. They looked and sounded like utter dorks; lyrics about electric hangmen and 'multibeasts'(?!) didn't help. They weren't grunge or pop or anything else remotely contemporary, or even recognizable. In 1995, as far as the media were concerned, Phish were a bizarre footnote to the rise of patchouli-scented popstuff like Dave Matthews and Blues Traveler (or worse, a Grateful Dead knockoff). Yet without a single hit to their name, Phish were well on their way to becoming the biggest concert draw in America.
This book considers the cultural significance of Phish's 1995 double live album, A Live One from a fan's perspective, as well as the band generally, discussing their ecstatically inventive live shows- a mix of weirdo acid-psych, haunted ambient moonscapes, twisted vaudevillian Americana, and riotous postpunk energy, all filtered through bandleader Trey Anastasio's screwball compositional sensibility and the group's astonishing, unique form of collective improvisation.