Phish’s 38-Minute ‘Simple’ Leaves Just Enough Room For ‘Cream’ At Deer Creek

Phish’s first two of three nights at Deer Creek (err, um… Ruoff Music Center? Nah, Deer Creek, dawg!) rocked like blissful love letters to the fans, so naturally Phish chose to roll through more foreign territory during night three, taking the tour down some interesting lesser-traversed corridors of the Phish Hotel before landing back in the gravity-free lobby just in time for check-out. In other words, they wrapped up their victorious return to Deer Creek in peak Phish form, all the while making it look easy like Sunday evening. Trey even wore his Sunday whites for the occasion. Surrender.

The band took to the stage half an hour earlier for the Sunday matinee and made short time of it by taking “46 Days” straight down the blues tracks that its engine was built for. Like many a “Runaway Jim” opener in the days of yore, some quick soloing and easy check-ins from all four members allows everyone to get situated for attendance. “Hi, we’re Phish.”

Most of the ticket-holding fans seem to have gotten the memo of the earlier start time, even if more than just this one reviewer had to rewind the livestream at setbreak to catch the opener in full. It’s a luxury of the modern era; specifically — a spoil of Live Phish With.

After 46 ways of blues jamming folded into one, the whole band synced up to slink through several layers, then stayed in sync for the gentle slam back into the chorus.

“Evolve” was in the two-spot and just when you think it’s standard fare meant to get people excited for what’s to come, Page McConnell starts eyeing his Rhodes and, moments later, abandons his Yamaha C7 grand piano. That changes things. Already by this time it was beginning to feel like this “Evolve” might be special, like they might take such a compactly defined song and jam it out in a new way — something they didn’t even really do when Billy Strings joined them for it at the Van Andel.

It’s not just that this “Evolve” comes on the heels of a 15-minute “Bouncing Around The Room” (yes, that really happened), nor that it’s the day after a 10+ minute “555” — after all, we’re now years-deep in Phish’s 4.0 era, where anything is possible. They made that clear when they came back from pandemic, guns a blazing, ready to shoot off from within any composition, unable to be contained or restrained, even in … shall we dare call it old age? In Phish years, there’s no such thing. But with band members now in their 60s, well … not all realities can be abandoned at the gate. Which makes what they’ve accomplished in this era all the more remarkable.

With Page now on the Rhodes, the possibility of a jam attached to the back end of this “Evolve” just went up by about 20 points. With Trey Anastasio now making use of the wah pedal to support this idea, it might be time to check Polymarket for possible inside betting. Instead of going for a cheap crescendo, the fearless foursome settle into a textured zone, the tapestry of sound, keeping it mellow enough for the summer evening light but hinting at where things might go after dark.

After reaching the 10-minute mark — likely making it the longest “Evolve” ever — it switches gears entirely with a quick transition into “Rift” and the double-time “With” that defines it (IYKYK).

Next up, we find ourselves drinking “Bathtub Gin.” Gershwin in check, the jam from the song’s signature riff launches casually, no rush to it and no need. We’re Sunday driving.

Trey finds his footing early on with a string of single-note thoughts and ideas while Mike Gordon bops and Jon Fishman bams. A rhythmic shakeup wasn’t enough to redirect Trey from the course that he was on, wherever it leads, in search of melodic gold. It was a search that would take him up and down the neck and find him taking his sweet ass time until Fishman began to prod him, prompting Trey to start fucking with slightly more menacing chops, while giving headroom to Mike to explore his respective fretboard. Trey reemerged from this space with more buttery and intentional lead guitar lines, while Page hammered along on the piano.

Trey’s searchlight found its target and locked into one of those riffs that could be a song hook all on its own, and with thrilling, trilling sounds, Trey turned his newfound booty into cashable gold, adding some nice adornment to the central theme. Nothing too fancy, but give it time. This is where Mike and Page pick up on the bullet points and keep pace. But when Trey hits a couple of exclamation chords, the Phish Mobile stays on course while the landscape around it seems to change. It’s a chill foothill to a laid back transition, and Trey starts fooling around with the notes that will take it there. But the band collectively decides to take in the scenery, pausing the jam in both intensity and intention to create one of those bucolic soundscapes that they are so adept at, while the sun’s shadow makes its way across the inside of the pavilion; the golden hour has set in and the band seems to intuitively draw from this. Trey goes out on some limbs, safe and sturdy but still full of hope and promise. He doubles down on one idea in particular, seeing if the band will bite, but before they sit at that table, Trey is already elsewhere on the Languedoc, taking it around a corner that lands him – and the band, moving as one – right back into the “Gin” riff that brings this one home.

Instead of a bow, Trey takes a tiny jump here, almost just for himself, either in celebration of what they just did or else in eagerness for what’s to come. It’s a stoke hop.

And into “Maze” we go. It’s not “Slow Maze” but it’s not exactly “Fast Maze” either. It’s a “Maze” that feels age-appropriate for the crowd. As is built into the song, Page’s Hammond B3 playing builds the excitement and anticipation that is hallmark to this labyrinth. All eyes on him as the band navigates the next turn together and Trey takes up some lightly explorative fretwork that goes down the familiar path. It’s a “Maze” but no one is lost — we find our way to the cheese and are granted a proper ending.

“Mountains in the Mist” emerges from the silence. Debuted in Atlanta during the summer of ’99, this song has been a universally loved Phish ballad ever since. But one of lines that reliably elicits cheers — “I’m worn and bruised / but I am here at least” — hits in a different way than it did back then. And it’s a gorgeous, well-placed and well-played version.

Five shows into the tour, an overdue “Stash” is up next. Trey takes the jam opening to offer a tentative but instant melody and the whole band is Sunday driving with him. One effect pedal later, coinciding with some cymbal action from Fish, and the lick becomes slightly more menacing — which is exactly what you want at the start of a “Stash” jam. With Page chording on the C7, and Mike just Leshing out beneath, Trey takes a commanding lead that feels like it could end up in sprint, but not without working its way there first. We’re still in the stretches. Some riffing from Trey brings us to an unlikely but there it is Dead Milkmen reference (“The Secret of Life”) and the intensity levels up just past warm, but then slides effortlessly into the coda. The stage bows make this “Stash” a first set closer for the first time in a decade, to the week (July 16, 2016, Portland, Maine).

The second set opens with the “Simple” that we knew were were going to get, immediately connecting this night with the August 6, 2021 “Simple” from this very amphitheater (which was appropriately awarded the 2021 “Jam of the Year” by the phish.net voting body — although it still has yet to thank the Academy). This is the first time Phish has revisited “Simple” from this stage since, so we’ll see if they try to compete or if they make it an affectionate nod before setting their sights on altering another song’s history deeper in the set instead.

There is no looking for the jam here. It’s a straight slam into … wait, this IS the jam! Or is this some song we haven’t heard yet? Parts of something else? It’s so on point and intentional that it sure seems like a composed piece until warped-time “Simple” licks from Trey inform us otherwise. This IS the jam. Immediate intention, intensity and focus. Whatever made Trey give the side-eye moments earlier may be the same thing fueling this insta jam, none of the poking around from the first set, the band means business from the start. Let the casual conversation go to the concourse. Page goes over to the side Yamaha for it. Mike stands his ground in the middle ground. Fishman is like a locomotive here. Trey like an engineer. Kuroda like a doula.

As the night becomes darkened, Kuroda’s lights become haze-focused beams with defining lines, mirroring the music. Trey’s directive in the ether comes through loud and clear and the band forms a ladder for some high diving that hopefully is still to come. A rhythmic shift confirms that the band is in lockstep, allowing Trey to take on menacing tones while Page visibly takes a moment to decide between the Moog and the old piano. The piano wins just as Trey starts soaring with sustained notes of melodic flight. A little bit faster now and it’s easy to see where this is going — upwards to the above and beyond.

Anyone just tuning in is in danger of getting soaked with some spray from the hose. Wipe those splotches off your shirts! Fishman knows. He shuffles around steadily while Trey switches focus to some rhythmic chording, which has the benefit of giving Mike some space to pounce and bounce. Page takes the baton and plugs it right into the Moog, then the Wurlitzer while Trey trickles down the neck from up top. If Mike’s head bop is any indication — and it usually is — the possibilities within this jam are still as endless as kids looking up at the stars from their parents’ backyards, trying to count them all and wondering which ones will matter to them when they get to college.

There’s also an odd comfort from Mike’s signature head bops. If he’s on board, it typically means we’re on board.

The band slinks into a rock intro for a song that has yet to be written. Trey changes tones like changing outer layers, from distortion to silk, which abruptly changes the destination without changing the direction.

With Page back on piano and Mike and Trey conversing fluently through melodic Tetris, the “Simple” puzzle pieces start to reveal the prize as we sink – we think – into … into … a momentary slip into the abyss before Trey catches a lick and the band has solid ground to work with. Fishman is just a machine here.

And with Trey now moving back to rhythmic chops, another movement, another disturbance in the force, Trey emerges with his Jedi hat on as if to taunt anyone with doubt. He climbs for another peak, Fishman’s fills offer their quick support. Let the mind melting commence!

A fabric jam to cross the rocky terrain from here ends in the kind of haywire high-wire act that keeps Phish feeling dangerous, while they balance from dizzying heights, no net in sight other than each other. And us.

The “Simple” riff lands us safely back in the song, ensuring their thoughts and work are not left unfinished here to languish in transition. But holy cow, that was just a journey! The crowd goes wild. As they should.

It wouldn’t be till hours later, upon writing the review, that I’d have any idea that 38 minutes passed since the second set — and it’s sole song to this point — began. That makes it the second longest “Simple” of record and the 16th longest song-jam in all of Phish history, according to the good work of Scott Marks.

“Pillow Jets” begins a bit tentatively considering we’re about to beg the gods to come down on thunder clouds and save us from all this earthly toil, mace in one hand, discus in the other. Good thing then that the jam, like “Simple” before it, gets right to it. Moog washes from Page, laser beams shooting out from Trey. Mike’s choices are supportive and present while Fishman adds color commentary without breaking a sweat. Or the tempo. That is, until now when the band, moving as one, makes the distinct sound of a spaceship’s final decent before landing on a foreign planet.

Landing complete, mission accomplished, let’s get weird as we open the spaceship’s front door and climb down the ladder to …”Light.” Somehow, this “Light” feels unusually apropos, welcomed with a warm embrace after the chill of darkness that has fallen all around us. Not that it hasn’t been without it’s thrills. It’s been one big one.

“Light” starts off feeling heavy – sparse and intense, with a heartbeat from Fishman’s kick and Mike’s Serek. The band locks into a “Passing the Hey” style jam, the kind they used to practice as a way of powering up their group mind. All these years later, masters of the form, they lead this “Light” with the confidence of a public speaker not afraid of pausing between words.

The three melodic men pick up on a shape that Trey first tossed out there and now the band seems to be walking the line between a “Light” road and a dark path. Trey shoots off a few rhythmic shots and when he does it again, Fishman is right there with him for the pulse, Mike and Page prove to be unwaverable company, with Page even offering some ivory coast lines while Mike gives the jam the sense of ground beneath the feet that is needed in these times of uncertainty. Trey’s lead becomes more joyful and more evil at the same time — the Phish Matrix – and the band rolls it all into a bounce that is distinctly reminiscent of those wild mid-1990s roller coaster jams.

It’s here that the band segues seamlessly into “Cream.” The shit-eating grin on Trey’s face reflecting the universal sentiment, both onstage and off.

The appearance of Prince’s “Cream” is significant here, as it is any time the band performs any song for just the second time. Especially when it’s been months apart. And especially when it’s a cover.

Ultimately, it tends to signify that the song will have a second life. Because despite serving a novel purpose the first time, the second time is always just for fun. And as long as fun was had — and, with “Cream” it certainly was — they won’t forget the reception. Which means … we now have reason to hope that “Cream” might actually make it to active duty. In many ways, its another perfect cover for Phish. And as they finish it, they don’t even try to slow down or stop, they just shapeshift successfully into their most beloved cover of all, “2001,” in what has to be one of the sickest segues of the entire era.

Ironically, “2001” didn’t have a segue after it, the band already spending all that capital on the one that led into it.

“More” came next and closed the show.

The “Wilson” that kicked off the encore felt like a motion simulator until the midpoint, when Trey decides that extra fireworks are called for. Drizzle on the mustard even while retaining the tune’s traditional length. Sure. You deserve it, Trey.

The first whiff of “Fluffhead” drew an immediate crowd reaction: they approve!!

A slight miscue that could have led to disaster is diverted at the end with a humorous Fishman fill, but all is safe and sound and Trey responds by sprinkling in extra notes to stuff the ending and stick the landing. It works.

Everyone in Noblesville, Indiana can go home satisfied — and the fans who are already at home can clean up the mess they made in the living room and text their tour buddies that, you know, now that they think about it, maybe they should add a show or two this summer to go hit up in person. Deer Creek had Phish hitting their mid-summer stride a week or two earlier than planned. Which means there’s still time to buy flights. Or, at the very least, the Live Phish With package.

The circus tent gets folded up and loaded into the trucks tonight; next stop Savannah, deep inside Phish territory despite the band never having played a show there. Expectations are high, but first … a day of rest … after, you know, first having to return to work. Because, again, not all realities can be abandoned at the gate.

But thanks again for the Sunday drive, Phish. We saw some sights today, that’s for sure.

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Phish Summer Tour 2026 continues Tuesday, June 14 at Enmarket Arena in Savannah, Georgia. Livestreams of Phish Summer Tour 2026 shows are available with a LivePhish With subscription.

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