20 Years Ago Today: Jay-Z Joined Phish Onstage in Brooklyn

20 years ago tonight, I witnessed one of the endless iconic moments in Phish‘s history. Over their 4-decade career, the New England quartet has maintained the interest of a dedicated fanbase by keeping them consistently guessing what their next move would be at any given moment. I can tell you that on June 18, 2004, none of us expected to see the band bring Jay-Z out on stage, but it happened. As someone who has never been much of a fan of the Bed-Stuy rapper, that moment is still one of my favorite experiences I’ve ever had at a Phish show.

The Jay-Z show was the second night of a 2-night run at Keyspan Park in Brooklyn, NY. Less than a month before, Phish announced plans to permanently disband, after 21 years. They would play a number of summer dates culminating with the Coventry festival in their home state of Vermont that August. After that, it would be a wrap. Coventry was a notorious train wreck, beginning with it “technically” being canceled due to poor weather conditions – many of us left vehicles on the freeway and walked upwards of 15 miles or more to gain entrance to the mud pit of a festival ground, which could no longer admit vehicles. The Coventry performances were lackluster, for the most part, and the conditions were horrendous, but Danny Devito was wandering around (we never ran into him) and the whole thing was an experience, to say the least. 

The summer dates were divided into two segments. The first block consisted of 8 shows in June, before picking up again with 4 more dates in August leading into Coventry. It was an interesting run of shows, not only because we knew it was supposed to be the end, but because there was obviously still some life left in the band. That said, I may have been in the minority believing that hanging up their spurs made sense. During that time, there were some dark, rough moments for the band members and fans alike; the engine was still running but not toward any real focus or conclusion that would necessarily resolve itself (at least, not positively). Phish would ultimately return sober and with a lighter, more optimistic feel to them, 5 years later; not to mention a renewed gratitude for all of us still waiting for them.

The last show before Coventry was in Camden, NJ and saw us pulling away as cop cars swarmed into the lot. Bottles were flying, as was “the n-word” and the threat of a tossed nitrous tank. There were counterfeit tickets, crack rocks wrapped in colorful cellophane, and a bandaged-up food vendor who had a massive pot of boiling oil spilled down his leg. As for the show, I remember thinking they were finally locking in and figuring out newer songs like “Scents & Subtle Sounds” which hadn’t done much for me up to that point. The night after Brooklyn, we would jump the fence and get chased into Saratoga Springs Performing Arts Center to witness what many still consider to be the greatest rendition of “Piper” they’ve ever performed. Like everything around that time, there were some massive highs and some gutter-ass lows.

The Keyspan Park shows were the first since the breakup announcement, making ticket resales only that much crazier. The Coney Island venue usually operates as the home stadium for the High-A minor league baseball team, The Brooklyn Cyclones. When we pulled up on night one, I was warned by a police officer that it would be unsafe for us to wander a block too far in either direction; lest we cross paths with some Baseball Furies, I’m assuming. Outside the stadium was a handful of young black men sporting matching blue polo shirts indicating they were working the event. They were around our age, rocking their uniforms on the slouchier side, and at least one had cornrows. Their faces had fascinated, if not bewildered, looks across them. They seemed like my people. I quickly made friends with them. These guys confirmed that they knew nothing about Phish or the scene, so I told them that it hadn’t even gotten started yet; that corner was “about to get fucking crazy.” Being such a difficult ticket to pull, it had already prompted some other fans to offer these guys stupid money to buy their work shirts off them. We figured out a different angle.

Along the perimeter of the stadium were a handful of businesses, including a drinking establishment where Benevento/Russo would play an after-show. We entered the bar and walked straight to the back until we were flanked by restrooms on either side. Between them was a third door with a sign instructing us not to enter. One of my friends walked through it anyway, only to pop back in and tell us to follow him. “OH SHIT!” We were underneath the seating in the tunnel-like hallway inside the stadium. Workers were shuffling back and forth like Doozers from Fraggle Rock. One asked if we needed any help. “No thanks.” We beelined it toward daylight and saw a couple of the guys I’d been talking to out front. Rather than rat us out, they directed us toward some stairs that led to the upper level.

The show wouldn’t start for quite a while, but the obvious move was to stick it out, trying to avoid getting booted until the crowd poured in. Now known as Maimonides Park, the venue is an open-air stadium, allowing us to look down at the crowd loitering on the sidewalk we just came from. I quickly dipped my head back, once some ticketless/tactless randos risked blowing our cover by yelling up demanding to know how we’d gotten inside. Specifics escape me, but I nervously chain-smoked for anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour and a half, as part of my mediocre attempt to appear inconspicuous. We were in early enough to watch supervisors give the concessions crew the run down for the night. Nobody ever bothered us.

Night one was simulcast in movie theaters nationwide so friends from across the country would text us about it in real-time. Two years later, the recording would be released on CD and DVD as Phish: Live In Brooklyn. I distinctly remember the band teasing “Fluffhead” during soundcheck; an exciting prospect, since they hadn’t played it in years. The torrential downpour came in the first set and sent people funneling into the team shop at set break. They had hoodies for sale featuring a brand-new “Fluffhead” design. Could this be a sign???! NOPE. At most, it was a ruse. They never played the song and wouldn’t again until busting it out as the opener for their 2009 reunion show in Hampton. Another vivid memory is seeing someone noticeably spun and trying to navigate through the stadium seats as the rain came down and the lyrics, “You’ll never get out of this maze.” taunted them incessantly.

On night 2, we showed up closer to door time and walked straight through that bar exit/entrance like we owned the place. We knew what we were doing now. Whenever I’d see my new pals who were working, we’d smile or nod at each other. It was clear that they thought it was hilarious we’d snuck in and were amused that we were doing hooligan shit. During the second set of that second night, they came up to where a large crew of us were dancing. I assumed that they were done with their shifts, but it’s possible that they just stopped working. Our interaction consisted of them acknowledging what an overwhelming and bizarro circus it all was, before asking if we could get them any weed. It was a peak moment in which friends and extended friends of friends had all converged in this one area in a massive dance party – the internet tells me that “Down With Disease” was playing at the time. We flagged one of our dancing cohorts who shimmied over with a smirk, as he happily gave these working men something to smoke on. Just as they lit up, Jay Z was brought on stage. They definitely knew who he was. We looked at each other and everybody’s head exploded like Scanners.

Jay Z and Phish performed 2 songs together that night: “99 Problems” and “Big Pimpin’.” Legendary Brazillian percussionist and Trey Anastasio Band member, Cyro Baptista accompanied them for both. Admittedly, it was somewhat of a novelty, but creating that moment was bigger than the music itself. On tape, the “Moma Dance“>“Free” from the night before is an undeniable highlight, but if you were in that stadium when Hova came out, it was just as electrifying. Witnessing those worlds collide and the employees lose their shit — I’ve read reports of concession workers 100% abandoning their posts — was something special. Jay knew he was experiencing something completely different, and vocalized it between songs. “God damn! You guys is hiding all this!. You guys was hiding all this from me! I felt it! I felt it!“

The video footage is taken from YouTube account REL, which belongs to a friend of mine. 

Jay Z spoke to Rolling Stone about the experience shortly after. He’s an excerpt from one of that aging rag’s articles you can’t read online without a paywall (or a bypass site to get around it).

“They just reached out to me to do something,” Jay Z told Rolling Stone days later. “I always believe in just good music and bad music, and I want to try new things. I saw this as a great opportunity. I went out and had a great time, and I’ve never performed in Brooklyn like that. That was beautiful … I just kept hearing their name and how strong they was live, how big a following they had live and that they’ve been doing it for like twenty-one years. That was amazing to me. I was intrigued.”

You can check out footage of Jay Z backstage with Phish before their performance below. I’m not sure where the video was taken from, but whoever posted it has yet to fix the date in the description (it took place in June, not September).

But first, I want to address the members of Phish who will, more than likely, be visiting my blog to read about their own history and, in doing so, will undoubtedly make it this far. You guys missed a MAJOR opportunity to have Too Short join you at The Greek for a rendition of “Blow The Whistle.” That run was pretty great last year, but it could have been that much greater. Remember, there’s always next time.