"Undermind," Phish's latest and final studio album does not sound like the work of a band on the verge of breaking up. Indeed, for an act that has defined itself through live music while always struggling and failing to transmit its signature sound to the studio, there is a bitter irony in just how good this last effort is. The whole disc seems to scream, "You've finally done it! Don't give up now!"
But alas, on August 15, Trey, Jon, Mike and Paige will go their seperate ways. If a high note to end is what they were looking for, then "Undermind" fits the bill.
Phish has always been better at performing than recording; rather than cashing out on a hit single, the band's success has come from building a live show that is consistently evolving, entertaining and solid. Without any help from MTV or commercial radio, Phish became one of the most profitable bands of the 1990s and developed a more loyal fan base than anything from Vermont aside from Howard Dean.
"Undermind" succeeds as an album because it somehow manages to capture the energy and vitality of the live Phish experience, while condensing that sound into a cohesive unit that is not too commercial and yet not too experimental.
The album's title song, along with "Crowd Control" and "A Song I Heard the Ocean Sing," are easily the peak moments of the album. These three songs are layered thick with sound, overlapping and spilling over into a sea of sonic bliss.
The title song is essentially a 12-bar blues progression crammed with as much groove and funk as such a thing can handle, then packed with a repeating vocal chant of predicate adjectives. "Crowd Control" follows a similar formula but abandons the usually obtuse Phish lyrical formula and replaces it with a sincerely imploring call for change. For a band known for absurd and often meaningless lyrics, this song demonstrates that when they want to be deep they are able to do so. "A Song I Heard the Ocean Sing" sounds a bit like a futuristic Beatles song on ecstasy, with cascading vocals and a rhythm section that ties it all together into an organic beast of a song.
One of the big surprises of the album is "Army of One," a soaring ballad written and sung by keyboardist Page McConnell. The song, which was originally performed by McConnell's side project, Vida Blue, makes you question why Trey Anastasio usually takes the job of lead vocalist. McConnell's powerful organ and playful piano work together to complement his superb harmonies and make this one of the more soulful pieces on "Undermind."
Years of eschewing the dregs of popular music has apparently led to a certain amount of confusion on the part of the band as to what exactly makes a hit single, and with each Phish album comes the requisite attempt at commercialdom. "The Connection," is this album's first single and like other attempts to break through -- think "Birds of a Feather" and "46 Days" -- the song falls a little flat. Written by Anastasio and Tom Marshall, the band's satellite lyricist, "The Connection" fails not only because of its blatantly insincere, radio-friendly format, but mainly because the chorus is just plain annoying.
While consistency is achieved to a greater extent on "Undermind" than most of their previous efforts, the album would be far better without the first and last song. "Scents and Subtle Sounds (Intro)" is a bizarre preview of a song better explored later on in the album, but bears no relation to the tone and energy achieved in the middle section of the album. The finale piece, "Grind," is an equally quirky barbershop quartet arrangement that interrupts the flow of the disc and leaves the listener unsettled.
The bookend songs notwithstanding, "Undermind" is one of the better records that Phish has produced in years. After 20 years of experimenting on stage and in the studio, the band has finally grown comfortable with sounding like itself.
