Ode to Joy: The Tom Marshall Interview
Other than the fact that Phish has reunited in 2009, ending a 5-year second hiatus that saw their fan base continue to expand, there has been another welcome reunion this year. Trey Anastasio began working with his longtime writing partner, Tom Marshall once again, and together, in collaboration with the members of Phish, they have created their latest album, Joy. The Express sat down with the lyricist shortly before Festival 8 for a candid conversation about that reunion with the guitarist/singer/composer, and their work on Joy, as well as a look back at a few tracks that found their way onto Party Time, the Joy box bonus CD. As regards Joy, Marshall explains, “I see a lot of questions that you and I could clear up, or at least add to the mystery.” And so we open the door…
What was it like to reunite with Trey, to write again, and did that begin when you sent what would become the lyrics to “Backwards Down the Number Line” to him on his birthday, September 30, 2007?
It really did. That was it, really. I was estranged from him because the program he was in didn’t allow for a whole lot of communication. For many reasons, his family and others were sort of shielding information about him, even from those who thought they were pretty close to him. Part of that is the old…you know…if you’re starting a whole, new life, and a whole new lifestyle, you do have to give up some of the old stuff. I think, maybe, for a while there, I was considered part of the old stuff. (laughs) I didn’t want to be because I didn’t really have a whole lot to do with the bad stuff happening, and Trey realized that and recognized that, so I was put on some sort of approved list.
Prior to that, to break the silence, I got a hold of an e-mail address from him, just by talking to his Dad. Out of the blue, I realized it was his birthday. I reached across the gap of not knowing really what was up with him with that e-mail. Literally, it was a birthday wish. It was funny because he called back so fast. First, he wrote back, “Oh my God!” within two hours. I was like, “What does that mean?” (laughter)
Maybe three, four hours after I sent the e-mail, he played me the song. He called me, and he was laughing. He played me the song, and said, “Oh my God! This is so perfect. It just fell together so quickly.” I listened to it, and it’s just amazing. I have that version, and I want it to come out, and be made public. It’s so good. It’s so full of energy. The Phish version on Joy is amazing. I love it. But that very first one—there’s something that’s incredibly crispy and magical and wonderful about it.
Was it an acoustic version?
No. When Trey was living in Saratoga Springs [upstate New York], he had a nice
little mini-version of his studio, which he calls Rubber Jungle, in his apartment there, so
he was able to do full recordings.
From there, did he say that he was ready to start writing songs with you again?
Yeah, it took a while actually. That broke the ice, and then there was sort of a process. It, literally, was like…I don’t think anyone ever mentioned an approved list, but I sort of had that feeling: “Who can he talk to?” It was very strict at first—“Who can’t he talk to.” That settled in, and he began to know how to handle his appointments. He had a very rigorous daily schedule of meetings. Finally, he got a handle on that, and invited me up. After “Backwards Down the Numbers Line,” he wanted to start writing.
I came up there. He would have to make some appointments, and I would sit there in his place, but we just realized that we still had it. We had not written for three, four years, and it was just great. It was a reawakening—not even a reawakening, so much as a realization that we could still do this. It’s almost easier now because there’s not this sort of weird haze surrounding Trey, or between us, or whatever.
It was wonderful. I put pen to paper, again, and started typing lyrics. I went up there with the whole ream of things again. I realized that we had gotten older. Our style has changed and yet, we’re still laughing like the old days. It was a lot of fun, and we wrote a lot of songs. Even though seven songs I co-wrote got on Joy, I think we wrote about 20 songs.
Over the years, we’ve discussed how your writing partnership with Trey has matured, and how the songs benefited from that. What changed in your current writing process when you and Trey were both very much present in the room, very much in the moment?
Well, it’s funny. I can only really speak to the lyrics side of that question. I remember “Spices,” “Pebbles & Marbles,” “Walls of the Cave,” “Scents and Subtle Sounds,” and “Two Versions of Me,” were all these poems that I had written and spent a long, long time writing and refining.
For Joy, a lot of them were written in the moment with Trey. “Joy,” the song, we entirely wrote together. That was different. The pervading happiness and simplicity about “Joy,” had a ‘fresh start’ feeling, in a way.
Let’s talk about the story behind the title track, “Joy,” and its overall meaning within the context of the entire album.
Sure. Well, where do I start? I have a friend, Joy, and I was hanging out with her at Hampton back in March [at the initial trio of Phish comeback shows]. Trey and I wrote the song “Joy,” after the Hampton shows in mid-to-late March. I was definitely thinking about it on the train, on the way in, Trey had rented a room in a nice hotel, and had filled it, like he does, with musical and recording equipment for us, and he wanted to get some more songs, a couple of additional songs, ready to go for the new album.
So on the way in, on the train, I went through some old lyrics that we hadn’t used. But I also started writing some new ones. I was finishing up a couple of thoughts that I had on the train, and I closed the book. I was thinking about my friend Joy, and also thinking about how cool that name is; you know, when you see a little baby girl, naming her Joy is so obvious—nothing but happiness. And then, how it changes for girls, some more than others; in particular, I was also thinking about my daughter. I had this conversation with Trey before we started writing, or anything—just about daughters, and happiness.
Then, later, we wrote a few songs, including “Ocelot.” We were sitting around and he said, “Do you have anything new?” I thumbed through the newest stuff that I had written, and that little verse that I had written, thinking about my pal, Joy, and my daughter at the same time, was Joy is over there in her incredible clothes, and just for fun, I had written she has rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes [Grateful Dead’s “Scarlet Begonias”]. That was the very, very beginning of the lyrics to that song.
I had also come up with a little guitar riff, so I grabbed a guitar and sang it, and played that little turnaround that goes ding ding ding ding ding din, but Trey took it completely from there. I wrote the first chord, and that little turnaround. Trey liked it right away, and turned it back to our conversation that we had about our daughters. As we were writing it, and it was kind of sad, and sort of transcendent, though, in a good, glowing way- we want you to be happy – we both, I guess, at one point, the whole time we were thinking about Kristy [Manning, Trey’s sister, who would pass away from cancer on April 29].
We almost couldn’t write because of Kristy’s condition, but Trey had just had a wonderful visit with her. We had delayed one writing session, and then we were able to write this one, so he was up thinking…Kristy was good at telling people she was better than she was, but I think Trey had come to a realization of what was about to happen. It was pretty heavy. Writing that song, I remember putting in that line but then somebody leaves you and you’re never the same, and I realized what I had just done by writing that. The puzzle piece line, you know …all of the places and people belong to the puzzle but one of the pieces is gone… and we didn’t talk about it.
Shortly after that, we wrote it, and finished it. It was great. It was about our daughters. But shortly after that, I heard him tell his mom on the phone that we had just finished a song about Kristy. So I agreed. We knew it. We didn’t say it, but we knew it. So…pretty heavy and yet, it was nice and hopeful, in a way, too.
Something like we want you to be happy, come step outside your room could have three meanings. The song is referencing Kristy, of course, almost as if she is speaking to Trey, and letting him know that he offers so much joy to the world. “Just be happy, and go out and do that, Trey. That’s your gift.” Second, it could be a message to everyone that has stayed loyal to Trey, Phish and yourself, Tom—“Please come back. We want to share in the happiness that only you can provide. Do not be cynical, jaded, and mean-spirited, just share in the joy of Phish.” Finally, the lyric could be interpreted as a simple statement to your respective daughters.
(Laughs) Well, it started as a simple statement. No, definitely, when we were writing it, and thinking it, and singing it, and doing the harmony and everything, we were thinking of people hearing that, and their reactions to it, and what a great message—(laughs) what a great message it is.
No, I agree. It’s funny because I think—as you know after having talked to me so many times about my take on the songs, and how I have a tunnel vision, and I know what I wrote—that Trey sometimes pulls me in a different directions, and tells me what it’s really about. Or, what it is about for him. Just then, you reminded me that even turning it around is like Kristy is singing it back to Trey, in a way. I hadn’t really gone there.
I had definitely gone to the audience’s perspective a little bit after it was written. But really to me, it really did start very simply as the daughter statement. Yep, of course, once you sing a chorus like that, you’re singing it to the world. (laughs)
Sure. But I was also wondering about lines like I never thought I could have it so good… you were the song that my soul understood. That has multiple meanings, too.
Right. Oh, I know. Those lyrics came so fast. We were together, and there’s something that is amazingly magical when Trey has a guitar in his hand. And when he’s playing, sometimes I’ll put down something quickly that, later, I might regret. Sometimes, Trey will say, “Come on, Tom, come up with something here. We’ve got to record this.” This one [“Joy”]—we didn’t feel that way, even though the lyrics came fast, there was no hurry like “Let’s get this thing written.” We just knew. This one was fast and perfect, and the lyrics came out right the first time. It really did write itself.
I remember…I even have the original paper, and there’s no cross-outs. We just put it down. I was really thrilled with the puzzle piece line. I was agonizing about it a little bit like “How does this fit into the meter?” I remember I had it differently in my head. I just had to write it down because there were so many cool words and ideas. I was also thinking of “In My Life,” the Beatles song: there are places …
You are talking about no cross-outs, and I am amazed at how these words just tumble out so gracefully natural and perfect: but time is a river that flows through the woods, and it led us to places we both understand.
Yeah, that’s early in the song. There are two halves to the song, and that one is still the daughter half, and not the Kristy half. That one was sad, and I remember Trey and I were sad listening and thinking about it: the kids growing up, and we’re growing up, too. Hopefully, you grow up, and you’re happy. There’s a lot you can, as a parent, control, in a way. Then, there’s a lot you just have to sit back and watch. We want you to be happy, and we’re trying to do everything we can. We try. But, shit. Time is a river, and it flows—who knows really what’s going to be around the next bend?
How does something like “Kill Devil Falls” fit into that Joy scheme of things?
“Kill Devil Falls”—I had written the lyrics a while ago, back in the era of “Walls of the Cave.” However, Trey rewrote it, and added a C section, if you will. Suddenly, we realized that it’s a song about addiction. I didn’t really get it as he was doing it, but he said, “Here’s sort of a goofy song about a guy who drinks too much, or loses his girlfriend because he’s an idiot.” Just by adding that stand at the base of the mountain (Don’t follow me) part—his reference, in a metaphor, to his problems, which I didn’t really realize until later.
But “Kill Devil Falls” was your phrase, initially.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Where was that phrase coming from you, at that point, back then?
(Laughs) Honestly, I think it was one of those one-off, off the cuff, funny little things that I’ve sent to Scott Herman, trying to goad him into writing a response, and I don’t think it did. Later, I found it as I was rifling through some stuff to bring up to Trey. What’s funny to me is the transformation and relevance now.
What about “Light”?
(Laughs) That was funny because I think I was online with Phantasy Tour when Trey and I were together. I went on Phantasy Tour, and referenced a song. I think I said, “KDF,” and that would be “Kill Devil Falls,” but I was also talking about another song, and that was “Light,” which was being written at the time. Later, I remember reading people saying, “I wonder what Tom’s going to write about, and I wonder what they are doing these days?” And months later, when they saw the lyrics, someone said, “Oh, no— it’s like all of these religious references.” (laughter)
Uh-huh.
And it did kind of come from that sort of place. Trey turned me on to some reading that he was doing at the time.
I thought so. I didn’t want to directly ask you.
He did. He did. Believe it or not—you know those cheesy books that you can get a beginner’s commercialized, packaged versions of Buddhism, like The Secret, with its roots in Buddhism, in a way? There was one that was packaged, but much more difficult, and much more mumbo jumbo-y by Eckhart Tolle called The Power of Now. Even trying to make sense of it is kind of mumbo jumbo. It is. It really didn’t make sense. And yet, it described this guy, and I guess he was having problems in his life, blah blah blah, and suddenly, he realized that his mind and he are separate entities. That realization was a huge epiphany for him, and it enabled him to get on to a whole different plane of happiness and satisfaction.
He was trying to explain how you could live in the now—the past doesn’t really matter; the future really doesn’t matter; you’re here and happy now. I was thinking, “How do I envision that for myself? How can I try to do that? If my mind and me are separate, maybe I can see a gap between them?” (laughs) Then, I started writing.
“Light” is my favorite song on the album—musically and lyrically, it rings true. I felt it was a different angle for you, but it is still very simple, yet very deep.
Yeah, exactly. That turned out to be the theme of Joy’s songs: simple, yet deep like the song “Joy,” itself, in a way.
“Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan” is a song people can relate to from time to time with its element of the mind not clicking like it should. I love the line Got a Clif Bar and some cold green tea. Yes, we all need to kick start the engine, right?
(Laughs) That’s another one that I think Trey latched hold of and realized that there’s a deeper message in there that he could bring out from obscurity depending on the way he sang it. I think he chopped some lyrics out of it, and just really liked that line. I was in hell, working in front of a computer, and I actually really did have a Clif Bar and green tea. That was my snack. (laughter) I remember thinking, “Oh, God—how do I get through this thing, just sitting there in a 9 to 5 slog?” That one, also, was written a while ago because I haven’t been 9 to 5ing in four and a half years. The song is a Scott Herman/Tom Marshall collaboration. We were desperately reaching out to each other across the void, and comfort each other in our respective horror at the time.
“Ocelot” seems fairly straightforward. too.
Yeah. I think Trey was the ocelot, and I was writing to him.
“Twenty Years Later” is a nice bookend to the album as Joy begins with “Backwards Down the Number Line”—another glance back before looking ahead.
I’m so glad they moved that. When I first heard the album, “Twenty Years Later” was going to be the first song. I thought, “Oh, no. ‘Backwards Down the Number Line’ should be the first,” but I didn’t say it. Trey came upon that himself, thank goodness, and put it at the end. To me, it’s an end song, especially with that “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” jam at the end.
(laughs) But, yeah, I don’t know, really. Trey and I wrote that entirely together, just sort of thinking, “Here we are twenty years later.” The little verses were just kind of put together kind of Tom-silliness style.
Well, Phish in a way, recording-wise, it’s been around 20 years, but it is more like 30 years later for you and Trey.
(Laughs) That’s true. That’s true.
Let’s talk about your work with Trey on a few songs you specifically co-wrote with him, which appear on Party Time, the bonus CD included in the Joy box set. “Alaska” is a familiar song to Phish fans as Trey played it on his solo dates in 2008.
That had a “Tennessee Jed,” Grateful Dead kind of vibe going on there. I think we wrote it in Saratoga Springs in Trey’s apartment when he was staying up there. I just remember really—that was one, again, we wrote together. I think the challenge to ourselves was “Let’s just write a happy, funny, ‘Tennessee Jed’ kind of story with a swing to it.” And that’s what we did. That was our take on that sort of thing. I don’t know why we chose Alaska, but I remember (laughs), shortly thereafter, the whole Sarah Palin thing ruined it for him. (laughter) Ruined it for him.
How about “In a Misty Glade”?
Oh my God. (laughter) Oh my God. I honestly can’t remember what that is. I think it’s just a Fishman joke song, right?
It’s got a Anastasio/Marshall credit.
It’s funny you say this…I have…(laughs)…if it’s what I think it is…it’s actually almost like a throwaway, but really funny with Fishman singing it. Here’s what I remember about that song. It’s Fishman trying to sing on top of some pretty cool music. He takes a Scott Herman/Tom Marshall poem from the book, the same one that “Roggae” came from, a long time ago. That book back then was called The Salamander Prince. All that crazy stuff came from there. That Scott Herman/Tom Marshall composition was one from long ago that we gave to Trey.
That one was funny because Fishman took the mic, and was singing—which is unusual, in itself—and the fact that, in one sentence, he mispronounced three words. Notably, one was cue, and I think he pronounced it “cue-y.” (laughter) I think that was a joke. It’s funny, musically decent, and Fishman just sort of butchering the lines is the thing that sealed its fate.
Do you remember co-writing “The Birdwatcher”?
That I do. Before Amfibian, there was a brief moment when Trey, Peter Cottone, Matt Kohut, and I had a band called Utalk. That was one of our songs, for whatever reason. It is sort of like one of those call-and-answer songs. You can imagine a big band kind of thing playing on the stage, and sometimes those guys would snake through the crowd, and one of the guys would be on the trumpet, one of the guys would be on the trombone, and go through the crowd while the rest of the band played on stage, and there’s a call-and-answer to the crowd. I’ve definitely seen stuff like that, and I’ve had it clearly in my mind, but I had no idea who it was. That’s what we had in our mind when we wrote it.
It was just filled with bad jokes, double entendre puns like “a beer belly dancer” and “fire breathing lessons.” (laughter) Yeah—just sort of silliness. It came out pretty good. I have the original that I think I should make public. We are just laughing so hard through the whole song. I think Trey re-visited it. That’s when he was with the band taking four-part harmony training, and barbershop quartet training, and that was one of the songs that they did, along with “Grind,” I think, in the same session.
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