Phish musicians have never done well in the small puddle of the studio. They’ve always excelled in the oceanic expanse of the concert stage. As with their obvious role models, The Grateful Dead, Phish’s albums have roughly the same relationship to their live shows that movie trailers do to feature films: They’re mere hints of what’s to come.

Ironically, Phish finally seems to have gotten into the swim of things in the studio with its final album, “Undermind,” in stores this week.

While it features many of the band’s longtime drawbacks — its love for jokey throwaway songs, its bent for hippie-dippie lyrics — “Undermind” boasts the best-formed and prettiest music of the group’s career.

Cuts like “The Connection” and “Nothing” have the folk-rock fluidity of songs by The Band and Dylan. “Army of One” matches a Clapton-like blues guitar to a chunky piano line brimming with spirit.

It’s as close as Phish could possibly get to the Dead’s most pop-friendly albums, “American Beauty” and “Workingman’s Dead.”

The group even sings better. Normally, Trey Anastasio sounds so homely and unsure that he makes Bob Weir seem like Van Morrison. Here the group harmonizes in a way you could even call sweet.

The band’s lyrics still read like Christopher Guest-style parodies of Summer of Love anthems. And it continues to be plagued by a love for inconsequential songs, like the goofy barbershop harmonies that close the album.

Worst of all, many of Phish’s solos lack the emotional depth of the finest jam bands. By the standards of its San Francisco role models from the ’60s, not only is Phish not the Dead, it’s barely Quicksilver Messenger Service.

On the other hand, Phish should be saluted for its range of influences, its lack of commercial concern and for coming up with some music worth remembering in this final hour.