Philling the void

String Cheese Incident take all comers

by Sam Pfeifle

String Cheese Incident play the State Theater Tuesday, October 31.

THE MEN:who would be Phish: String Cheese Incident.

I have to admit, though reluctantly, that I was once a Phish-head. With the requisite long, unwashed hair, tie-dyed apparel, and a general sunny disposition.

I hit some big shows among the 40 or so — a small number by today’s standards — extravaganzas I caught. I was there for the famous 1994 Halloween show in Glen’s Falls, New York, where Phish played the Beatles’ White Album for their second set, and then finished the show with a third set that took us all the way to 4 a.m. I remember because I had to teach high school the next morning at 6:30 a.m., and I barely made it.

But, as any real head will tell you, I was pretty much a poseur.

I had little interest in following the tour to all 100 to 150 yearly stops in an orange van selling burritos and “goo-balls” — they got you fucked up, whatever they were — like my friends Mike and Pappy, who truly inhabited the psychedelia-addled, flower-print, hand-sewn, surreal world of the Phish tour.

Now, with Phish taking a break from the road (see the October 10 New York Times, or Phish.net), these folks need to find a way to continue their lifestyle, or risk the mainstream world. Do they hop on the String Cheese Incident tour, motoring into Portland for Halloween, as has been suggested on many fronts, or go with a number of other bands, from Leftover Salmon to Deep Banana Blackout? SCI is alternately pleased and hesitant about the predictions.

“I think in a lot of ways it’s an honor,” says Carrie Lombardi, the band’s publicist, “but the band has been building and doing really well regardless.” As might be expected, SCI is not publicly begging for Phish fans to hop on their gravy train. “We’re really happy that Phish is doing what they need to do to be happy,” says Lombardi, who notes that Phish’s management has been helpful on a number of occasions as SCI has grown, “they’re psyched now.” She notes that Phish ended just as SCI’s fall tour was beginning, and that the tour was 50 percent sold already, but now she thinks “the parking lot scene will be interesting, our fans will be there, and their fans will be there. It could be a lot of fans.”

The phish fans have to go somewhere, and their conundrum is not without precedence.

It is hardly coincidence that Phish got their mainstream popular start in 1995, the year Jerry Garcia died and the Dead tour was no more. Oh sure, Phish had already released their Electra debut, Picture of Nectar, in 1992, and were a phenomenon for selling out 2000-person venues like the State Theater with no air play, just about where SCI are now. But ’95 was the year they first appeared in the New York Times (in an article by Portland’s own Scott Sutherland), Rolling Stone, and Spin, and 1995’s A Live One was their first album to crack the top-20 on the Billboard Charts.

That was 12 years after their inception. If their meteoric rise had nothing to do with the end of the Dead, the Backstreet Boys’ success has nothing to do with teenage girls.

When the Dead started to die there were plenty of bands ready to pick up the torch: the Spin Doctors, Blues Traveler, Widespread Panic, and the Samples were all more commercially popular than Phish at that point in their careers. Phish rose above that fray not necessarily with better music — I’d say Widespread’s Space Wrangler (1992, Capricorn) is the best album released by that bunch — but with better organization, ingenuity, and use of every musician’s friend: the Web.

Now, again, we have a breach. String Cheese Incident has the same strengths necessary to step into it.

The correlations between SCI, formed in ’93 in Crested Butte, Colorado, and Phish are readily apparent. Phish successfully self-released their first two albums, Junta and Lawnboy, full of music with influences ranging from bluegrass to Broadway. Since ’93, SCI has self-released four albums, with 1999’s Round the Wheel selling more than 25,000 copies, and 2000’s Carnival 99 — a double-disc live album combining funk, folk, and Allman Brothers B-3 organ — selling briskly.

They perform similar, ornate, holiday-themed shows that attract fans with more than music. Phish would cover an entire album for Halloween. SCI have pirate balls, this year being Portland’s second, that involve band members in brightly colored frocks.

Phish would have extravagant multi-date New Year’s runs. This year, SCI are playing three straight shows at the Oregon Convention Center in our sister city, Portland, Oregon. SCI also have what they call an “international incident,” where they entice fans to Jamaica, Mexico, and Costa Rica, much like Phish’s Great Went or Lemonwheel Maine shows.

Finally, there is the Web-based organization. Phish.net was a pioneer in internet communication, a source of tickets, merchandise, and a general hang-out spot for fervent fans. As early as ’92, they took the mail-order business of the Dead, which allowed fans to be independent of major labels and Ticketmaster, a step further.

SCI have outdone even that major feat. They have Phish’s independent ticketing and publicity, even childcare. They also have what must be the first band-owned travel agency, Madison House Travel, which helps fans find their way to shows in foreign cities.

Despite the comparisons, SCI are trying to remain focused. “I don’t think there’s a lot of pressure,” says Lombardi. “Taking over for Phish was nothing that they set out to do. There’s not any more pressure than there was a week ago.” n

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at spfeifle@phx.com.