Tonight's one word description is balance.

After Saturdays show, which tore a hole into the earth, expectations ran as hot as the summer air. The boys from Vermont came on stage once more in my new favorite menu that isn't the Mothership, and absolutely polished off one of the greatest weekends of 3.0.

Buried alive opener was not only buried alive opener, it was reassurance that all that angst would be relieved. Phish, yea I said their name, meant business. Again.

Wilson was Wilson, and we are pleased. NICU hit all the right spots, as we jumped on the turnstile and went round. The heater openers had been balanced out.

We took a familiar dive into the tub for what was a subliminal gin. I don't know the words that could describe it, so just listen and be soaked.

Gumbo. Funk fest. Slower than the average, bass enhanced. But the show continued to favor rage side.

The boys soon slid in to what I consider a staple of the ghost album, in limb by limb. Not many songs caputre this bands essence better. Great wordplay, great music, great energy. They people are pleased.

The well was something. For all the happiness we earned during LxL, the well snatched it all and torched it. Cool tune, fun gimmick style lyrical shit show. John Fishman makes himself known.

Mountains in the mist was perfect. It is perfect. The band was hot to touch, and this blessing of a tune cooled us down. Balance.

Halfway provided yet another board meeting. Maybe I'm weird, but this song has always really done it for me. The chairman was oozing with precision, rag, and soul.

Melt torched the whole damn place. Set closer took us into a dark, sinister, up tempo gospel of gloom... And then out again. The set was complete and Page is king.

Never been a fan of those lights.

Round 2 lead off with cactus getting the nod. Mikes ran amuck, and the feeling was.... This was going to be a set for Gordo to shine. Balance.

I won't attempt to describe Carini. It was violent. Then we were liberated. Hints of the 2013 Hampton lumpy head led the blissful jam. What a band. Groove provided a solid off ramp for an absolute slug fest turned dance party.

I met an awesome father son duo in the pit Friday. His son was witnessing his first show, and I asked him typical questions... What's your favorite tune, are you familiar with the stringent no deal policy on gas, do you have any clue what you are getting into. Ya know, basic shit. He was amped about sand, and I assured him.... You'll get it if you stick around for the weekend.

Sand.

My new friend got his tune. Sand ripped. Trey attempted to run the party, but Mike had us start to finish. Mikes set.

After all this madness, we scored another bombshell with a second set Reba. The butcher was hot. Boy do we love Reba.

More closed the set. Trey pushes this tune in spots of significance, and tonight it did not disappoint. The whole fan base was overjoyed. And likely overstimulated...

The encore provided more entertainment than anything. Earlier in the night page and big red played with one another lyrically, and now we have the best drummer on earth leading in some Reba.

Our bands namesake blessed us with bachelor party karaoke quality vocals, and a weekend of absolute malicious behavior was capped off with playful behavior. Balance yall.

I dont know or care about the history of how long its been since.... Yem.

Wow.

I must say, this venue, this band, that guy with the lights, everything about this weekend was perfect. A page driven first half, met by a space bass blasting second. Balance.

I've learned something this weekend that hit me like a ton of bricks. I love this band. I love the fans. The friends I've made this trip. But I also love my home. My wife. My unborn child, who isn't allowed to be named anything phish related (we shall see). My pets. My favorite band is my family. But outside of that, my identity is phish. I have my band, and I have my band. This is also home. Balance. Thank you, Phish, for one of the best 3 nights of the 21st century.

4.69 score. Yea