Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: trey anastasio (page 2 of 9)

The Grand Delusion


“Trey, are those letters on the smelly lady’s dress?”

“No, Pagey. Those are just donuts.”

“I like donuts.”

“You sure do.”

“Too many makes my tummy hurt. And then I need the potty.”


“No, I need the potty.”

“Oh. It’s right over there, buddy. Do you need me to go with you?”

“I can do it! All by myself, I can do it!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Will you still be in Phish when I get back?”



“Trey, I can’t keep it up much longer. I’m gonna say something.”

“Fishman, you shut the fuck up or I’ll split your lip.”

“How long we gotta pretend we don’t know!?”

“When Page wants to tell us he’s not retarded, then he’ll tell us! It might be, like, psychologically damaging or something.”

“Dude, it’s not like waking a sleep-walker.”

“You’re actually supposed to wake sleep-walkers.”

“Oh, totally: they could fall down the fucking stairs.”

“Right? Such a stupid myth. Trey, I’m gonna say something.”


“Why not?”

“Fishman, have you ever seen Page’s contract? Didn’t you ever wonder why you got so much more than a quarter of the money?”


“I was trying to call his bluff! No one would ever sign what he signed unless…you know…but I’ll give it to the fucker: he commits to a lie.”

“Did he even read it?”

“Pretended that he didn’t, but I walked out of the room for a second and when I came back he was crying.”

“Sounds right.”

“Signed ’em, though.”


“So dummy up.”


“Hello, Trey! I love you, but I could not put my button back in my pants. Will you help?”

“Sure, buddy.”

“Hey, guys? Do I ever get to be a part of this?”

“No, Mike.”

“No, Mike.”

“Trey, the mean man is being mean again.”

“See what you did, Mike?”

“You ruin everything, Mike.”

Phoot Phetish


“Look at ’em.”

“I’ve seen your feet, Bob.”

“I know, I know. Look at ’em again.”

“Is this, like, your thing?”

“By thing, do you mean fetish?”

“A little, kinda, yeah.”

“No, no, no. Not my fetish.”

“I heard it was yours.”

“You heard I was into old guy feet?”

“Hold your horses, Treyvon: I have the feet of a man half my age.”

“Granted, but I don’t have a foot thing, Bobby.”

“Have you tried?”

“Tried what?”

“Opening your mind, for starters.”

“If having an open mind means I have get off on your hairy toe-knuckles, then I don’t want an open mind.”

“It’s not gay if it’s just feet.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“GUUUUYS! I got a hundred likes on Instagram!”

“Good work, Mike.”

I Ain’t No Senator’s Son


“What now, Bob?”

“Good question, Troy. The, uh, tour’s over. Got a gig or two. Should probably start on that TV show they paid me to do a year-and-a-half ago.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Then, you know: huh. Lot of possibilities. Garcia’s briefcase is missing. I got a Victory Lap to do. Josh and Katy are due to get into some shenanigans any minute. Storyline after storyline.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Troy, are you familiar with the concept of semi-fic–”


“What is it, Page?”

“My dad’s here.”

“Oh, no.”


“I disapprove of all of this.”


“Oh, here’s a storyline, Troy. They just pop us like this.”

“Bob, why is everything always so fucking weird around you?”

“Excellent question.”

Voting Is Fuego, Kids





“Dammit, Pagey, I’m holding up a sign right now.”

“I can’t do my belt.”

“I’ll help you in a minute, buddy.”

“What do those shapes mean?”

“It says ‘Go Vote.’ People have to vote this year.”

“I vote for spaghetti and meatballs..”

“We’re not voting for lunch, Page. We’re voting for a president.”

“Then I vote for the happy man with ears. His name is Madonna.”




“He smiles and his wife is pretty.”

“Yes, but he can’t be president any more, buddy.”

“But I want him to be.”

“Lot of people do. But he can’t. It’s a rule.”


“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Blank Page


“Please don’t take Trey, Mr. Bobby.”


“Him. My friend who smiles and solos.”

“Ah. You call him Trey? Is that short for Troy?”

“I don’t understand, Mr. Bobby. Trey is Trey, and he is my friend.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not gonna take him.”

“Trey is a Phish. I am a Phish, and Mike who is mean to me, and the smelly lady who plays drums. And Trey.”


“And you cannot be a Phish. There are four of us. That is why ‘four’ and ‘Phish’ start with the same letter.”

“Can you read, buddy?”

“Trey is teaching me, Mr. Bobby.”

“Since when?”

“We met in 1985.”


Phish You


“Troy, question.”

“Sure, Bobby. What?”

“What song is this?”

“That we’re playing?”


“Playing in the Band. You wrote it.”

“No, it doesn’t go this fast.”

“Um, yeah, okay. The tempo’s speedy, sure.”

“Is the song being chased?”

“Um, no.”

“Then why is it going so fast?”

“We play fast, I guess.”

“You gotta luxuriate in a tune. I feel like I’m in a heavy mental band.”

“Oh, uh, I forgot to ask at soundcheck: how do you wanna go from the jam part back into the song part?”

“We were gonna fuck it up.”

“Oh, good. That’s how we used to do it.”

Lawn Bob


“Wait. You’re Troy.”

“Close enough.”

“What do you think about laundry?”

“I don’t think about laundry.”

“Yeah, that’s the right answer.”

“Oh, right: didn’t Josh start a laundry company or something?”

“All of us did, but he’s the only one taking it seriously. Billy bought the laundromat–”

“Just for skank?”

“–just for skank. Yeah, Billy’s decided to grow old disgracefully.”

“I picked up on that.”

“Oh, you know Billy?”

“We’ve met.”

“So, uh: you wear that sort of outfit all the time?”

“A shirt and jeans? Pretty much. I wore a nice shirt last week and the internet was dickish about it.”

“But not, you know: crazy get-ups or anything?”

“Not lately, no.”

“And that ‘staring into the distance’ face you make: that’s the worst of it?”

“I guess.”

“You know all the Dead songs already, right?”

“Bobby, you can’t trade guitarists.”

“I think I can. Who manages you?”


“Jesus, Bob, now you’ve upset Page.”

Eskimo, Brothers




“And you’re not Bruce Hornsby.”

“Also correct.”

“Are you Soldier Field?”

“Well, that makes no sense at all, Bobby.”

“Were you wearing a different shirt?”

“What? Probably, I guess.”

“I’m not so great with names, but I never forget a shirt.”

“Think, Bobby. Fare Thee Well show.”

“Right. I was wearing my ‘Let Trey Sing’ shirt.”


“Then shouldn’t you be singing?”


West L.A. Phadeaway


“Josh, you look terrible.”

“Do you mean John? I’m pretty sure you mean John, and I’m not him.”

“You’re soloing incessantly. That’s what Josh does.”

“Not Josh, Bobby. Trey.”

“Not ringing a bell.”

“It just occurs to me that I have no idea what you think my name is.”

“Probably not wrong.”

“Trey Anastasio.”


“From Phish.”

“No, thanks. I’m a vegan this week.”

“The band, Bob. Jesus, man: I played with you at Fare Thee Well.”


“Just play the song, Bob.”

Get On The Same Page


“Why is Bobby here, Trey?”

“He’s just sitting in with us, Page.”

“No. Guitarists stand. I sit.”

“He’s going to play music with us.”

“I love playing music!”

“I know, buddy. Me, too.”

“He’s not going to try and take you away again, is he?”

“No, Page.”

“You are a Phish! Not a Grateful Dead!”

“I’m a Phish, Page. Now and forever.”


“Pinky swear.”

“I got scared when you left last summer.”

“I know, Page.”

(Check out the show here.)

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