I am well aware that it's been over two months and I haven't written anything about High Sierra. Yes, fine, I haven't written anything at all and there are a million good reasons and no good reasons why that's so. For a while the thought of writing about HS was so overwhelming that I just didn't want to tackle it...but as time passed and I had a chance to digest and discuss the music I realized that there were only two things about High Sierra this year that were truly overwhelming enough to be scary and I should be writing about both of them. So be nice.

Being a Phish fan – a hardcore, crazy-ass, nowhere-I'd-rather-be-than-on-tour Phish fan – conditions you to approach other bands in certain ways: You're more likely than not to think a quartet is the perfect number for a band; you gamely search for meaning behind nonsense and are skeptical of the obvious (lyrically, musically, emotionally, or experientially); and you have a hard time letting yourself love something as much as you did (or do!) Phish.

And that's not even counting what you expect from the music: creative, perfectly executed, constantly engaging, surprising, varied, funny, inclusive, exclusive (unless you get the joke), mind-blowing, rage-inducing, perfect, imperfect, mundane, moving, but never boring. It's no surprise that after years of too many good shows to count or recount I've seen exactly 2 shows since Coventry that have blown me away, and neither of them were at festivals or easily replicable.*

So while I have a soft spot in my heart for Surprise Me Mr. Davis, it doesn't stand to reason that I would be so completely enthralled with their performances at High Sierra that I have spent the last two months and some weeks struggling to write about it. I mean, I know these guys – I saw them last year, I know their other bands and side projects, I listen to the recordings, I get it. Hell, Michael KNOWS them, like really knows Brad and Andrew and has been listening to The Slip since they were in high school together. We're evangelists...I think that The Slip are really doing something outrageous and special and watching Brad come into his own as a rock star has been a pleasure. This is not unknown.

But Surprise Me Mr. Davis has me questioning whether or not The Slip even needs to exist anymore. Seriously. For a band that started as amusement during a snowstorm and has slunk into nothing more than a small side project when it's geographically advantageous, there is something wildly exciting about these guys. Maybe it is because I feel like I know them and after publicly extolling their potential it's satisfying to be proven right. Maybe it was timing: a brilliant late night set with everyone I love around me followed by a gorgeous sunset show after a long, lazy, funky afternoon in the meadow. Maybe it was the beer. (It wasn't the beer.) These guys are the real deal.

Put plainly, they're the most genuinely exciting band I've seen in a long, long, long time. And that's just it – they're genuine, and I don't question a second of it. I listen to them and hear a clarity of purpose that belies their part-time status. I don't know if it's organic or calculated (likely the former, equally brilliant if the latter), but I think of great big things when I hear them – Truth, Beauty, Love – and I believe in them. I believe the same way I used to believe at Phish, in the infinite possibility of the good and the gorgeous and the transcendent. When Nathan sings "Back in 15 minutes...write a novel" I want to write one for him. When the bass bottoms out in the chorus of Sleepy Head I can feel their intention in the soles of my feet. The jam in For the Paper Boy makes me wish I knew Max Pelta, just to thank him for moving them to write something so touching and true. And all that from only three hours of music.

They are everything I love about The Slip without the pressure on Brad to be the reluctant rock star. With Nathan as raconteur and ringleader Brad seems more creative than ever. And his ability to relax – to hide behind his guitar (and in a mask nonetheless!) – reflects on the other guys. I've never heard Marc sound so simultaneously melodic and funky. I can actually hear Andrew listening to everyone and responding in kind. The music is as pretty as anything The Slip's ever written, and the lyrics as good a story as anything that Nathan's ever told. It makes you proud and political and empathetic and lucid and completely inspired. They're magical. They must be. Beyond the rubber balls and dancing red lights and card tricks and cereal boxes there's no way to explain it but pure alchemy.

Rare and unexpected. And deeply needed.

* Feb '05: Phil and Friends Mardi Gras show in SF with Jimmy Herring, Chris Robinson, RRE, Steve Molitz, and Houseman and March '06: Black Crowes in Amsterdam at the Paradiso