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Is this the headline: 4 vs. 7?
From todays NYT :
Trying to Fill the Void When the Monoculture Skips a Beat
By SHAILA K. DEWAN FOR THE NYT 10/17/00
Among the fauna to be found
clustered around the box office at
certain rock concerts there are subtle
distinctions. And last night, outside the
Beacon Theater on the Upper West Side,
where Phil Lesh, the former Grateful Dead
bassist, was playing, an expert would have
been able to discern an uptick in one variety
of tousle-headed, bead-hawking,
parking-lot dweller: the Phishhead.
That's because last week, Phish, the
Vermont jam rock band that more than any
other took over the spiritual mantle of the
Grateful Dead, abruptly began a hiatus of
undetermined length. Their final concert, at
the Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain
View, Calif., was on Oct. 7. After that,
where was a fan to go?
The Phishheads in evidence last night were
caught between disappointment and loyalty.
"They've been working hard for a long
time," said Robert Landry, 22, who had
come from Kittery, Me., and decided to
follow part of Mr. Lesh's tour. "So they're
definitely entitled to a break."
By and large, the hippie-inflected fans are
not inclined to vitriol. Dancing and sharing,
especially in the form of bootlegged tapes,
are encouraged by the band. But those who
had spent the last one, three or five New
Year's Eves at a Phish concert seemed
somewhat lost (the band is expected to take
at least a year off). Was there now a void in
their lives?
"It hasn't set in yet," said Joel Sandler, 22,
of Philadelphia, who said he was "a bum,"
but not proud of it.
Noah Axe, 19 and, like both the band and
his friend Mr. Sandler, on something of a
hiatus, played it a little cooler. "Phish isn't
the only band that Phish fans listen to," he
said. He was thinking of checking out
Cat Power. In a telephone interview with Cat Power, Ms Power stated : "If they don't pay they're not getting in, you cant pay the landlord by holding a finger up in the air." "We dont want them and we don't need them." "Our shows are already sold out". "Let them go follow Marianne Nowottny, she could use an audience."
"I found more purpose in my life than just
following a band," insisted Dean Sottile, a
chiropractor from Maywood, N.J., who
wore a polo shirt and a windbreaker. "I
really can't wait for them to come back,
though." Asked what he would be doing come New Year's, Mr. Sottile, a Phish regular,
kept a stiff upper lip. "I don't know. What's going on?"
Phishheads, holding one finger aloft to signify that an extra ticket to see Mr. Lesh would be
greatly appreciated, argued amicably over what, exactly Trey Anastasio, the Phish guitarist,
had told a Las Vegas audience in his only public explanation of the band's break (please,
don't call it a breakup). The relative merits of Widespread Panic, another jam band, were
discussed in earnest.
But to some of those crowding the barricades last night, the news of Phish's disbanding was
unwelcome for another reason: invasion. They complained that Phishheads mistake
revolution for fashion and fail to display appropriate "family values," as Melisa Linton, a
22-year-old Deadhead, put it.
"Back then, if you needed a shirt, it was, here you go, brother, here you go sister," she said,
giving a reporter a hug.
Another Deadhead said fretfully, "I'm afraid the kids might come to Furthurfest," referring to
a music festival held by the surviving members of the Grateful Dead.
But two students from the State University of New York at Purchase seemed peaceful
enough as they waited in line to get into the Beacon. One of them said his name was T. Roy.
A young man with dark ringlets who said his parents had been Deadheads, he had found an
upside to Phish's exit. "I play my own music," he said. "It might give us a chance to have a
bigger crowd."
Although Phish has been around since the early 80's, their caravan of hand-to-mouth fans
swelled after 1995, when Jerry Garcia died and the Grateful Dead broke up. Although
connoisseurs will point out that the bands sound very different, younger Deadheads found
the Dead's legacy in Phish.
Phish's hiatus, given little fanfare by its members, came at the height of the group's
popularity. Without support from MTV and major marketing dollars, Phish has thrived,
becoming the most successful of the new generation of radio-unfriendly jam bands.
"Once Jerry died, the scene just went whoomph!" Mr. Landry said, sweeping his hands
upward, "because there were all these hippie musicians that couldn't follow the Dead
anymore."