Chicago has played host to such legendary Phish shows that I felt a little intimidated having to write a blog entry on them. I wondered if I could really find something new to say about shows which I didn’t attend but which are so well known in the community. So instead of just writing a review or an essay, I decided to compose a sestina to capture some of my feelings about Chicago, Phish, and our fan community.

Each stanza (except for the the envoi) focuses on and draws from a different show. The end words are taken from Carl Sandburg’s famous poem, Chicago.

Five of the shows I chose to focus on seemed like no-brainers. I wasn’t sure which one to select for the sixth until I noticed that 4/10/93 was "Barefoot" Bob Eckhart's first show. Bob passed away in January and our community came together in a big way to raise money for the education of Bob’s children. Donations to Bob’s family would still be welcome, so if you are interested in helping, please send me a private message.

Bob was at every one of these shows, and this poem is dedicated to him.

Phish: Chicago Sestina

I (Aragon Ballroom, 4/10/1993)

We glide down the red line packed shoulder to shoulder,
My friend and my friend and I feeling the pulse;
The big ballroom blues that will bounce through the building,
The Sugar harmonics the man will be making.
Someday we will miss you, but now we are laughing
At good times and grooves we can no longer fight.

II (World Music Theater, 8/14/1993)

Sometimes I’m a runner, and sometimes a fighter,
Sometimes with the world like a mound on my shoulders,
But then the sparks catch me, and then I am laughing,
For music has mercy on my manic pulse,
And someday I’ll hold my head up to my maker,
For I’ve surely enjoyed the myself that was built.

III (UIC Pavilion, 6/18/1994)

My mind tried to leave both my body and building,
But I held it with hose (though it put up a fight).
I’m loving this genius disease that we’re making;
The torture of tension that builds in my shoulders,
Tongue dry with dust while my synapses pulse,
Released and blown high in a seizure of laughter.

IV (UIC Pavilion, 11/25/1994)

Thus we speak of the music, and also the laughter,
Of pretty tunes from tall buildings,
And electrolux pulses,
Wars of love and of hate, of dancers and fighters,
Armenian men and butchers, big shoulders,
Of turquoise mountains and memories made.

V (Rosemont Horizon, 10/31/1995)

Beneath the ridiculous masks that we make
You will see us, the real us, smiling and laughing.
For we are the sea and the wind’s on our shoulders,
And feelings that we have forgotten are building.
By the time Jesus left we knew how not to fight;
Either way, up or down, with the flow and the pulse.

VI (UIC Pavilion, 8/15/2011)

Reinvented, each time, with each pulse;
Like sand in a child’s hands, remade;
Carried forth on the waves, and not fighting;
Growing brighter with love and with laughing;
Feeling good about things we are building;
Standing once again shoulder to shoulder.

Under song is the pulse, under music is laughter.
We hear what is made, we always are building,
The surrender’s our fight, barefoot kids with big shoulders.

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