My wife turned to me about 10 minutes into “Fluffhead” and said, “They’re still going.”
“They’re just getting started,” I replied, amazed that three songs into Phish’s July 16, 2025, show at TD Pavilion at the Mann Center for the Performing Arts in Philadelphia, she hadn’t yet experienced what was to come.
There were a lot of firsts that night—for both of us.
It was the first time Phish played a multi-night run that I had tickets for and didn’t attend every show. Since Nov. 25, 2009, at the then-Wachovia Center in Philadelphia, I’ve gone to every night of every run—except for 2010, when I couldn’t get tickets for all three.
Wednesday marked my 14th Phish show. It would’ve been No. 15, but I sold my tickets to Tuesday night at the last minute. I just couldn’t manage traveling back and forth between Atlantic City and Philly two nights in a row. I think age has finally caught up with me.
Although it was my wife’s first Phish concert, I’ve been slowly introducing her to jam bands. After attending every Philadelphia Folk Festival since 2010, she had a pretty good idea of what to expect.
In the past few years, we’ve seen Dead and Company—twice—along with Billy Strings, String Cheese Incident, Widespread Panic, Umphrey’s McGee, Goose and The Disco Biscuits. We even livestreamed the New Year’s Eve show from Madison Square Garden the past two years.
Since it was her first Phish show, I thought it would be a good idea to listen to the previous night’s concert at the Mann—including a 40-minute version of “Sand.” I’ve always considered these multi-night runs as a full experience, rather than just individual shows.
As with most jam band events, one of her favorite things is checking out Shakedown Street before the show. Despite the heat and mud, we felt right at home. What I noticed this time was the mix of homespun and professional vendors—everything from NORML to baklava to Wookles.
It was also my most sober Phish show. After a couple of THC drinks and some vape pen hits, I even turned down offers for doses and mushrooms—something I’d never done before. I grabbed a $5 cup of watermelon and headed in.
The Mann Center has long been one of my favorite venues. I’ve seen Goose here, and the Philadelphia Orchestra performing the score for “Star Wars: A New Hope.”
We got to our seats just before 7:59 p.m., right as the band walked onstage. From the start, something felt different—maybe it was the thick Philly humidity or the buzz of the crowd. Maybe it was that we were sitting Mike side for the first time—not by choice, just where I ended up in the lottery. Technically, I was directly in front of Fishman, and it was my wife’s first show.
“The Dogs” kicked things off, followed by a tight “Evolve.”
Before “Fluffhead,” the band took an extra moment—just enough time for Mike to drop in heavy, the rainbow lights to explode during the glowstick break, and a Zappa-style jam to melt the crowd. Page crushed the organ and Trey went off.
Looking around, I saw more Phish fans my age and older. Now that I’m in my 40s, I’d say that’s about average. I also noticed a lot more earplugs—nearly everyone in my section had hearing protection, which I started wearing a few years ago.
As always, the crowd was kind. A guy next to me borrowed a koozie and returned it a few songs later. A younger fan walking past yelled, “Your mustache goes hard!”
Even the security guards were into it. “It’s rare for me to see a Grateful Dead shirt I haven’t seen before,” one told a group waiting for merch.
During “Gumbo,” the lights spun like a tornado while Trey melted faces and Page carried the melody. As a Page guy, this was definitely a Page-heavy show.
The first set closed with the syncopated groove of “Split Open and Melt,” which dropped into a deep-space synth jam. By 9:28 p.m., the band was somewhere else entirely.
“The Curtain With” opened the second set slowly and dramatically—full-on face melting by 9:52 p.m.—followed by “A Wave of Hope” and “Mercy,” both blissful, patient jams.
As the band launched into “Simple,” storm clouds brought some drizzle and dramatic lightning. Trey teased the “Macarena” during the jam, which got my wife dancing and pointing out some younger fans doing it wrong.
Trey didn’t talk much, but he did change the lyrics in “Twenty Years Later” to “33 years later,” referencing Phish’s first show at the Mann on July 18, 1992. Technically, it was exactly 32 years to the day.
One of the absolute highlights was a searing version of “Run Like an Antelope,” with Trey leading the band through twists, teases and stops that spiraled back into chaos.
The encore, “You Enjoy Myself,” was a perfect closer—complete with trampoline jumping, a vocal jam and one last blast of Page-led madness. The lights looked like bats in flight, and the final jam got deep and weird in the best way.
As if the night couldn’t get any better, we passed a guy wearing a sprout hat riding a bike through the lot, offering two grilled cheese sandwiches for $5. It was a good bit away from Shakedown, but it felt like the right kind of ending.
Between the sweat, the music and my wife’s first time in the crowd, the whole Mann Center felt like it was glowing.
Setlist
Set 1:
The Dogs
Evolve
Fluffhead
Gumbo
Pebbles and Marbles
Roggae
Ginseng Sullivan
Guelah Papyrus
Julius
Split Open and Melt
Set 2:
The Curtain With
A Wave of Hope
Mercy
Simple
Ether Edge
Maze
Twenty Years Later
Run Like an Antelope
Encore:
You Enjoy Myself
