Phish closed the book on 2025 the only way they really know how: by committing fully to a ridiculous idea, executing it with absurd theatrical confidence, and then backing it up with a stretch of jamming so strong that the gag almost became secondary by the time the dust settled. Almost. This was one of those New Year’s Eve shows where the spectacle, the music, and the band’s collective personality all aligned into something unmistakably Phish—goofy, ambitious, deeply musical, and just self-aware enough to work.
The first set did exactly what a first set on 12/31 should do: it warmed the room, set expectations, and quietly reminded everyone that this band, even when playing it “safe,” is still operating at an extremely high level. “Free” opened things up with a relaxed but confident swagger, Trey’s tone already dialed in and warm, the groove loose but purposeful. “Birds of a Feather” followed, lively without being frantic, more about cohesion than lift-off. “Bouncing Around the Room” felt like a communal exhale, a moment of shared joy before the set leaned slightly darker with “Stash,” which carried a bit more bite than it sometimes does early in the night.
“Waste” slowed the pace and landed gently, one of those MSG moments where the room feels impossibly large and strangely intimate at the same time. From there, “My Friend, My Friend” kicked the door back open, continuing what has quietly become one of the strongest late-era resurgences in the catalog. This version wasted no time stretching its legs. Trey attacked the early jam with purpose, Page shaded things beautifully on Wurlitzer, and Fish locked in with that relentless forward motion that made it clear this wasn’t just a spooky interlude—it was a statement.
The jam unfolded patiently, dipping into darker, exploratory territory before gradually turning toward something brighter and more anthemic. Mike’s low-end work gave the whole thing weight, while Page’s synth textures added just enough weirdness to keep it from getting predictable. When Trey finally pushed into a peak, it felt earned, not rushed. A brief return to the chorus closed the loop nicely before the emotional pivot into “A Life Beyond the Dream,” which served as a natural cooldown rather than a momentum killer.
The rest of the set moved briskly but effectively. “Kill Devil Falls,” “More,” and “Monsters” came and went without overstaying their welcome, each doing its job in keeping the energy up. “Life Saving Gun” as the closer was a smart call, finishing the set with one last blast of confident, soaring Trey leads and a reminder that his guitar tone right now is as good as it’s been in years. Ninety minutes in, the band had set the table perfectly.
Set two leaned more into flow and efficiency, as expected on a night with a hard midnight target looming. “Sand” opened things up with a gorgeous major-key expansion, the groove settling in deep before gently lifting. Mike was especially strong here, guiding the modulation with subtle authority. “Fuego” followed seamlessly, shifting the mood into something murkier and more textural. Page’s Rhodes work felt thick and dreamy, while Trey and Mike layered loops that gave the jam a submerged, almost weightless feel.
“No Men In No Man’s Land” came in quickly and left just as fast, oddly short but not unwelcome, more of a transition than a destination. “What’s Going Through Your Mind” finally made a proper MSG appearance outside of a gag context, delivering a focused, Anastasio-led peak that landed cleanly. Then came “You Enjoy Myself,” which hit with classic precision. The composed sections were sharp, the jams energetic, and even the vocal jam felt purposeful, complete with subtle “Fuego” teases woven into the post-vocal improv.
“It’s Ice” appeared late enough to raise eyebrows, and that curiosity was rewarded when an ice cream man—cowbell and all—began wandering the stage. The Phish debut of Prince’s “Cream” sealed it: the gag was officially underway. The crowd knew exactly what was coming next, even if no one could have predicted how far they were about to take it.
The third set began with “Harry Hood,” already surrounded by visual chaos as dancers dressed like milk cartons took over the stage. As the song peaked, costumes were shed, cartons descended, and the entire scene felt like it was slowly spilling out of control—in the best possible way. A giant milk carton with a “Missing: Spock’s Brain” notice hovered ominously, planting a seed that wouldn’t bloom until later.
“Also Sprach Zarathustra” was positioned perfectly before midnight, stretched just enough to fill time as layers built and textures stacked. Ice cream men emerged with massive props, Trey hopped behind the drum kit, and Fish descended into a literal freezer wearing a rocket helmet. At the stroke of midnight, a fake Fish rose through the ceiling clutching a giant bomb pop, because of course he did. “Auld Lang Syne” provided the briefest nod to tradition before Phish dove headfirst into “Tweezer” to kick off 2026.
What followed was the musical core of the night. “Tweezer” exploded into a monstrous jam, dancers from past New Year’s gags pouring out of the freezer and singing lyrics in multiple languages, occasionally breaking into the Meatstick dance. Trey teased “Meatstick” himself, along with flashes of “Sneakin’ Sally,” while the band powered through multiple peaks without losing cohesion.
Instead of wrapping it up quickly, the jam kept evolving—dark, gritty sections giving way to blissed-out major-key waves, then back again. Fish’s return to the kit brought a renewed sense of drive, Page’s Moog textures smoothed the transitions, and Trey seemed content to let ideas breathe rather than force direction. By the time the first massive peak resolved, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a standard third set.
“Piper” emerged organically, and somehow the band found another gear. The first peak was pure fire, Trey shredding while Fish pushed the tempo higher and higher. Then, on a dime, everything dropped into a sparse, half-time exploration. Synths crept in, dissonance bubbled under the surface, and the crowd stayed locked in despite the dramatic shift. It was daring, patient, and incredibly effective. A sly “Sneakin’ Sally” tease surfaced again, drawing cheers before the jam slowly climbed back toward a final blaze.
“Say It To Me S.A.N.T.O.S.” closed the set with one last surge of energy, a perfect exclamation point on an 80-minute third set that balanced spectacle and substance better than most bands could ever dream of.
After a longer-than-usual encore break, the band returned dressed as ice cream men for an a cappella debut of “Sincere,” played completely straight and completely absurd. Then the giant carton returned, and with it, the long-awaited bustout of “Spock’s Brain,” performed for the first time since 2019. The symbolism was complete. “Tweezer Reprise” followed, a victory lap for what had become the defining song of the night—and arguably the year.
At over four hours of music, this was the longest show Phish has ever played at Madison Square Garden. More importantly, it was a reminder of why this band still owns this night, this room, and this tradition. The gag was hilarious, the production was elaborate, and the music—especially that extended “Tweezer” > “Piper” stretch—was genuinely inspired. A ridiculous freezer, a giant popsicle, and some of the best jamming of the year. One hell of a way to ring in 2026.
Setlist
SET 1: Free, Birds of a Feather, Bouncing Around the Room, Stash, Waste, My Friend, My Friend, A Life Beyond The Dream, Kill Devil Falls, More, Monsters, Life Saving Gun
SET 2: Sand > Fuego > No Men In No Man’s Land, What’s Going Through Your Mind, You Enjoy Myself, It’s Ice > Cream
SET 3: Harry Hood, Also Sprach Zarathustra > Auld Lang Syne > Tweezer > Piper > Say It To Me S.A.N.T.O.S.
ENCORE: Sincere, Spock’s Brain > Tweezer Reprise