Farmhouse

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Could millions of unwashed, trust-fund-milking stoners be wrong? Hell yeah, but ever since Phish was passed the Grateful Dead’s mantle as the Pied Piper of Patchouli, the band has made a convincing case that the tie-dyed masses are onto something. Their latest, Farmhouse, is an engaging patchwork of folk, blues, funk, and rock that will please Phish-head followers and may even win over a few stubborn holdouts. In the past the Vermont foursome often let wild-eyed ambition turn their albums into messy, everything-and-the-kitchen-sink affairs, but here they’ve dropped the avant-garde jazzbo posturing and have channeled their energy to create more focused songs. At heart they’re still more of a concert phenomenon than a recording juggernaut; meandering cuts like “Bug” and “Gotta Jiboo” will probably sound better in an open field than they do here. For the most part, though, the long and winding jams so beloved by fans (and reviled by everyone else) are cut mercifully short. That leaves plenty of room for tight, bluesy shuffles (“Back on the Train”), soulful rockers (“Farmhouse”), and rustic instrumentals (“The In-law Josie Wales”) that show off Phish’s underappreciated songwriting chops and sense of humor. We’re still not ready to load up the VW bus and spend the summer hawking grilled-cheese sandwiches outside their shows, but we might stop making fun of the people who do. Nah.

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