Phish took the stage at Madison Square Garden at approximately 7:58 p.m., and from the opening notes it was clear this was going to be one of those 12/28 shows—the kind that doesn’t scream its greatness in real time but slowly tightens its grip until you’re fully inside the spell. There’s a particular energy to the first night of a New Year’s run: anticipation without pressure, looseness without sloppiness, and an unspoken agreement between band and crowd that the long game has begun. On this night, Phish leaned hard into that sweet spot.
“Buried Alive” was the opener, a punchy, ominous choice that immediately snapped the room to attention. It functioned exactly as intended: a quick system check, a temperature raise, a reminder that this band still knows how to hit hard without saying a word. Without pause, they dove headfirst into “AC/DC Bag,” and suddenly the Garden felt fully awake. CK5 wasted no time showing off his iron grip on the MSG lighting rig, bathing the room in shifting color as the band dipped into some euphoric micro-jamming. Nothing overly ambitious yet—just confident, joyful playing from a band clearly comfortable in its own skin.
The real curveball arrived early with “Roggae” in the three-slot, a placement that felt both unexpected and perfectly natural. Trey teased “Norwegian Wood” during the intro, a subtle nod that floated through the room like incense rather than demanding attention. From my vantage point in section 302, the sound mix was immaculate—clear, balanced, and immersive without ever feeling overpowering. What struck me most in these early moments was how relaxed the band looked. No rush, no tension. Just four musicians listening deeply to each other and letting the room breathe.
After a brief pause, “Rift” snapped the set back into high gear. Page McConnell was on fire all night, and this was one of the earliest indicators. His solo cut sharply through the mix, ferocious and precise, and when Trey lingered just a beat longer after the line “in silence contagious in moments like these,” the crowd filled the gap with a roar. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone—the silence, in this case, was anything but contagious.
“Wolfman’s Brother” marked the first true plunge into deeper waters, and it didn’t disappoint. The Garden began to sway as Page opened up a series of gooey synth textures that steered the jam into darker, more psychedelic territory. This was one of those moments where MSG felt less like an arena and more like a sealed environment, sound and light folding inward on themselves. The jam flirted with bliss before executing a genuinely thrilling transition into “Punch You in the Eye.” The move felt effortless, the kind of segue that only happens when everyone is locked in.
They stretched the “Punch” intro beautifully, with Trey and Mike tossing effects back and forth while Fishman subtly shifted gears beneath them. Mike Gordon’s tone was especially interesting here—thick, elastic, and weird in all the right ways. Above it all, CK5 spun rainbow spirals that seemed to exist on multiple axes at once. It honestly felt like you could see the sound coalescing around the room.
“Sigma Oasis” followed, breaking the run of 1.0 material and prompting a predictable wave of bathroom-bound fans. I stayed put, hopeful for a jam, but it remained concise and to the point. And honestly? That was fine. Not every song needs to be a statement. “Taste” arrived next and landed cleanly, with Page once again delivering a solo that felt sharper and more aggressive than usual.
Then came one of the most unexpected and quietly emotional moments of the night. Trey set down his Languedoc and picked up an acoustic guitar, signaling “Sleep.” It was the first performance of the song since November 29, 2019—231 shows ago—and the room collectively leaned in. The Farmhouse-era ballad floated gently through the Garden, tender without tipping into sentimentality.
With the acoustic set aside, Trey revved up the familiar intro to “Run Like an Antelope,” and suddenly the set had teeth again. The jam built patiently, stacking intensity in layers and teasing several false peaks before finally cresting. It got wild—borderline chaotic for a moment—but Phish being Phish, they navigated through the rough edges with veteran ease. If there were flubs, they were absorbed into the momentum, invisible unless you were really listening for them.
Set break arrived, and I did what any MSG veteran does: overpaid for Food & Drinks and wandered the concourse, bumping into friends and trading early impressions. I lingered a bit too long and heard the muffled opening of “Oblivion” echoing from the arena. That song has grown on me considerably this year, so I hustled back to my seat, rejoining my crew just as the jam began to unfold.
“Oblivion” opened the second set with a brief but pleasant major-key exploration before snapping back into its main riff. “Down with Disease” followed, echoing its familiar second-set placement from night two at SPAC earlier in the year. The intro stumbled slightly, but any roughness was quickly smoothed over by a danceable, bliss-forward jam. Page added splashes of color with his effects, elevating the whole thing into a feel-good glide.
A seamless transition carried the band into “Simple,” and the room erupted at the mention of skyscrapers—MSG acknowledging itself in real time. The jam here took a darker, bluesier turn, a welcome contrast to the sunnier vibes that preceded it. Fishman hinted at something truly deep and left-field with his rhythmic choices, and for a moment it felt like the floor might drop out entirely. Instead, the band zigged where we expected a zag, morphing the groove into “Gotta Jibboo.” Unexpected? Absolutely. Disappointing? Not at all. It was short, tight, and full of swagger.
After a brief pause, Phish delivered what would become the defining segment of the night: “Theme From the Bottom.” Placed late in the second set, it unfolded into something genuinely special. The familiar Theme jam gave way to a dark, churning groove that felt deeply psychedelic—Pink Floyd by way of Vermont. Ideas were introduced, stretched, abandoned, and reworked as the jam pushed past the 20-minute mark. Each band member contributed thoughtfully, building a strange, beautiful organism of sound.
And just when it felt like the jam might dissolve entirely, the music bubbled back up into major-key territory and—somehow—landed back in “Simple.” It was a jaw-dropping moment, the kind that sends a ripple through the crowd as people realize they’ve just witnessed something truly rare. This was the crown jewel of the show, hands down. (The Band Released a Pro-Shot version of this)
“Everything’s Right” closed the second set a bit abruptly, but not unpleasantly. If anything, it felt like the band intentionally resisted the urge to overstay their welcome, trusting the audience to sit with what had already been delivered.
The encore, “Slave to the Traffic Light,” was short and sweet, echoing that same restraint. No grandstanding, no excess. Just a graceful exhale to end the night. Taking the cue, we headed back to the hotel early, opting to conserve energy for the marathon still ahead.
This was a strong, confident, and deeply enjoyable show. While it may not go down as an all-time legend on paper, the “Wolfman’s Brother” into “Punch You in the Eye” sequence and the monumental “Theme From the Bottom” jam make it more than worthy of repeat listens. The unpredictability of the setlist, the thoughtful pacing, and the band’s clear comfort with one another all point to something bigger brewing. As far as December 28 shows go, this one stands tall—arguably among the best in recent memory. And perhaps most exciting of all, it felt like a starting point, not a climax. The run had only just begun.
Setlist
SET 1:
Buried Alive >
AC/DC Bag
Roggae
Rift
Wolfman’s Brother* >
Punch You in the Eye >
Sigma Oasis
Taste
Sleep**
Run Like an Antelope
SET 2:
Oblivion >
Down with Disease* ->
Simple ->
Gotta Jibboo
Theme from the Bottom* ->
Simple >
Everything’s Right
ENCORE:
Slave to the Traffic Light
* Unfinished
** Trey on acoustic guitar