"And hey, maybe we'll play that song for ya."

These were the last words I heard from Dave Schools, bassist for Widespread Panic, before he walked down the back stairs headed to his last couple of hours of relaxation before he and the rest of the Athens, Ga.,-based band would take the stage at yet another sold-out show.

When Widespread Panic performs, they dig deep into their song roster and pull out songs from their vast collection of music. It's a style they, like many neo-hippie bands, have picked upfrom the Grateful Dead. When Panic comes to town, you don't know what tricks they'll pull out of their collective hat. All you know is that you will be treated to a fantastic show.

Much of the band's creativity stems from much time spent on the road. When they started out 11 years ago, they toured following a simple philosophy: Go out on the road for months at a time to come back toAthens with some cash in their pockets so they could do it all over again. And sometimes, they had to tour a lot just to get enough gas money to make it home.

Panic's fans understand where the music and vibe come from. But what they might not realize is that this group of guys worked their asses off to get where they are today. And the bottom line wasnever the money or the fame. They just wanted to play music.

So when the band stopped at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago in May, I expected nothing but brilliance. I also knew that when I spoke to Schools and Sunny Ortiz, percussionist for Panic, that they hadn't yet made up the night's set list. Following an electrifying sound check to the empty shell that is the Aragon Ballroom, the band and their crew relaxed in the theater's balcony, eating curried whitefish, roasted red potatoes, and caesar salad. They appeared content and ready for the night, so I took it upon myself to make a request -- "Driving Song."

Now I didn't really think they would play the song when Sunny said, "yeah, we haven't played it for a bit. Maybe." But it was when Dave Schools glanced back at me over his shoulder with a childish smirk onhis face before walking down the steps that I knew they'd play it.

The guys in Panic are more special than most musicians who have made it because they realize their mortality and casually interact with their fans. They realize that they have a loyal following. So loyal that not only do Panic's fans travel around the country to catch as many shows as they can, but when they're not driving from venue to club they are logged onto the Internet to see what they've been missing.

Fans have created about a half dozen sites that list everything from song lyrics and guitar tablature to what the band played last week at The Fox Theater. Two fans, Will Duckworth and Ted Rockwell, even go so far to post complete set lists within days, sometimes hours, of the shows for everyone else to revel in the missed set. Sunny said that they are afraid of posting some things to the Web because if they change their minds or a show is canceled or an album doesn't get released as the band once may have posted online, their fans get angry and say, "hey man, what's up?"

For this reason, Sunny said that the band tries to stay away from the Web. "It can tend to backfire on you," he said. The Panic fanbase is so diehard and devoted that when they hear a rumor of a possible tour or come across a new set list containing a hot new cover of "Low Spark of High Heeled Boys," the word flies fast. It's amazing that a group of guys as laid back as Panic could even keep up with the Internet. But, for as much as they'd like to not post too much information online, you will always find letters from band members as well as John Keane, their producer, saying hello to their fans on their website, www.widespreadpanic.com.

When they finally get face to face with their loyal crowds, Panic always pleases. And I for one can attest to their honesty and their ability to make people happy. Even though I had enjoyed both sets of the show on May 5, it wasn't until the encore began that I realized just how cool and special this band truly is.

When Panic took the stage that night at the Aragon, what was presented was a gift, a sweet package all wrapped up to be delivered to the entire audience, but it had a special meaning for me. Sometimes when Panic plays special shows on nights like Halloween or New Years, the boys whip out their Southern hospitality and bring a little something extra to the mix. Maybe it'll be their trademark tune, "Coconut." Or perhaps John Bell will ruse the audience with a methodical rendition of the Doors, "Riders on the Storm." But, on this night in May, there was nothing on the calendar that indicated a holiday or gave a reason to raise a glass.

As always, Panic aimed to please. And making people happy is what they do best. So, as the band returned to the stage for an encore, the slow guitar picking and gypsy-like bells and triangles took hold of everyonein that Moorish-style room when the band began to play "Driving Song."

This is one group of musicians that enjoys taking the world back to its roots. And once in awhile they will pull out all the stops. For instance, on this last spring tour, the band enlisted the help of David Blackmon, who played fiddle on Panic's first album, Space Wrangler. The boys even recorded a song with Vic Chestnutt, a neighbor in their homebase down South. And on their most recent album, Bombs andButterflies, not only did they record with the legendary Col. Bruce Hampton, but they pay homage to a personal hero, gospel great Pops Staples.

Teaming up with other bands and musicians is something Widespread Panic has been doing for years - and they don't seem to want to stop anytime soon. Enter the 1997 HORDE tour. Initially, Sunny said, "for us, it's going to be like a homecoming. I think it's going to be a successful HORDE because the lineup is going to be real diversified."

In 1997, the summer festival that has always been about grass-roots music both on-stage and behind-the-scenes, enters its sixth term. And Panic, who played the first two installments back in the beginning with the likes of Phish, Blues Traveler and the Spin Doctors, were to be one of only three permanent acts on the entire 1997 tour. But when Sunny said, "And to this day, it's still changing," referring to the tour's ever-growing lineup, he wasn't joking.

Just days after Sunny explained how cool it was going to be to play with young, eclectic bands like Primus, Ben Folds Five and Beck as well as musical mainstays like Neil Young, it was announced that the band had pulled off the tour. People on both sides of the tour's organization were upset by the situation. But, when it came down to it, Panic felt they deserved a certain amount of respect being the H.O.R.D.E. elder statesmen they were.

So it was when listening to the tape of our interview that I realized the irony and near-foreshadowing of Sunny's statement when he said, "whether or not we will co-headline with Neil Young is still inquestion. We could say 'yeah, we're gonna headline,' and then a week later we could be totally wrong. We'll just see what happens." Apparently seeing what happened meant not playing anymore.

But the H.O.R.D.E. schedule's loss was Panic's fans gain. The band met and discussed their options. They could sit around and brood over not playing the tour or they could once again hit the road headlining theirown shows. So, they revamped their summer itinerary and decided to head on out to places like Park City, Utah, Omaha, Neb., and Montgomery, Ala. But perhaps the climax of the tour for the band came when they added a two-night stint at Red Rocks, a natural, outdoor venue with some of the purest acoustics and majestic, pristine surroundings. Not only would Panic jam in a tranquil setting, they would fulfill a dream at the same time.

"The Nevilles were one of the bands on our wish list," Sunny said. "If the opportunity ever came up, we'd jump at the chance to play with them." So, in mid-June, Widespread Panic got a Rocky Mountain high andshared the stage with the beautifully harmonizing, funky-ass style that only the Neville Brothers could deliver, straight from New Orleans. This was just one of the dreams that came true for the band in 1997.Ironically, the first also involved the Big Easy, but this time, Panic was like Mohammad moving towards the mountain.

Each year, bands comprising a musical mix of jazz, funk, rock and world music among others, hope to obtain a coveted spot on the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival lineup. This gathering that takes place each late spring, sees music lovers come from all corners of the world just to hear a few days of great music. Reformed hippies. Jazz enthusiasts. Old, Southern blacks who allow the Lord to enter them through spiritual gospel. The fest draws out the best in people, and when Panic received their invitation to play the second weekend on the last afternoon (one of the most sought-out positions), they knew that someone's smile looked their way.

Where as a band and as individuals, Panic has dreams and wishes, one they want pretty badly would involve taking a big chance and tour through Europe. Because they have spent the last 11 years touringthroughout every nook and crannie of the United States, it's easy for them to sell-out clubs on name recognition alone. In Europe, as Sunny explained, "A band like ours has to depend on record sales to attract a crowd." On a continent that favors dance music to live bands these days, Panic would need to "hop along the bandwagon with some of the bands that are successful over there like Blues Traveler, Phish and Dave Matthews Band." Otherwise, they might have to go during the off-season and play a small bar or pub that only holds about 200 people, and that just would send Panic back 10 years to when they were just starting out in the States and cramming themselves on small stages in tiny holes in the wall just to make a buck. According to Sunny, it just wouldn't be worth their while.

So for now, Widespread Panic remains in America where their fans love them -- a place where not only do they consider these people lovers of their craft, but also members of a strong community. Because makingthese people smile is all in a day's work.

It's just like the encore at the Aragon. They just wanted to make me happy.

ARI BENDERSKY