1996 is no doubt a strange year for the band Phish. The mammoth Grateful Dead Corporation has finally ground to a bitter halt with Jerry's death, leaving the legions of fans who form the tight-knit national Dead Head scene without a shepherd. Phish, with its electrifying live shows and off-kilter humor, is the heir-apparent to the tie-dyed throne; their latest album, "Billy Breathes" seems to be an indication of their acceptance of the position.

What a long, pleasant trip its been. "Billy Breathes" finds Phish taking a break from their magical mystery tour to head into the studio, and the results somewhat approximate Brian Eno's vision for ambient music - listening closely is rewarding, but not n ecessary. It makes for pleasant background music, but closer inspection uncovers nuances that could never reveal themselves in an arena setting. The good-natured psychedelic jazz-rock fusion is a lot closer to Garcia's vision than Phish's previous madcap attempts at rock operas and space jams.

But to compare their newest CD to the Dead may not be entirely accurate. "Billy Breathes" may be the greatest Big Star album that Alex Chilton never had a hand in writing. The album is a blast back to the early 70s, and shades of popular bands from that e ra shine through the hazy production. Queen-like epic songs, Who-esque vocals, the shimmering guitar work of Big Star - they all have their place in this eclectic, mellow mix. Phish reels you in, taking you to a special, quiet place. It's almost as if the post-Nirvana angst rock revolution never happened.

"Subtle" and "low key" are the operative words on "Billy Breathes." Fans of the band are already aware of the quartet's stellar musicianship, but the studio, used as if it was an extra character in the band, provides the perfect melting pot for their coll ective abilities. They play well together - they sound like a unit, rather than a collection of individuals. It flows seamlessly from song to song, hitting both high and low points along the journey.

The valleys include the first single, "Free," which suffers from a common malady in today's Alternative world: Phish forgets to write lyrics and instead repeats the same meaningless phrase over and over ad infinitum. This, and the rather dull Charlie Brow n jazz soundtrack instrumental, "Cars Trucks Buses," are not good indicators of the album's true merits. At a party, you'd probably miss them as they easily breeze by.

The eleven other tracks on the album show a healthy maturation of Phish's sound. The percussive piano runs of "Taste" combine with elaborate backbeats to weave a wondrous audio adventure more scintillating than anything to emerge from Uncle Tom's Band, wh ile the laid-back syncopated bass and keyboard work on "Theme From The Bottom" catches you with serene pop hooks. Well-articulated and meticulously constructed vocal harmonies point to the band's long experience, and complement the music perfectly. Thes e guys are still full of bright ideas, but now they're relaxed about it.

No, it doesn't really rock and you might not gain any meaningful insights from these 70s power pop gems, but it's a pleasure to accept Phish's invitation to "come waste your time with me." Fans of this album might be well-served to pick up Big Star's firs t release, the appropriately titled "#1 Album," for similar work done in 1972.

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