Let’s get something out of the way early: Toad the Wet Sprocket is one of the greatest bands ever. They are easily my current favorite band, and have been for a couple of years now, which is funny, since they broke up almost a decade ago.
I first became interested in Toad, like many, with the release of Fear in the early nineties. For some, the subsequent release of Dulcinea was a brief splash in the pan and then they moved on to the next musical one night stand. I, however, found that Dulcinea built upon the music established in Fear, and was later surpassed by Coil. These guys kept getting better and better.
And then they were gone. The band split up and went on to other projects. No longer wooed by new music, my ardor cooled off. I hunted down their first two albums, and pulled out some Toad when I felt the mood, but the passion died down. I never even got to see them live.
Fast forward to last summer, the summer of aught-five (yes! revive the aughts!), and I am sitting on the grass at Woodland Park Zoo for a Carbon Leaf concert (I’d never heard of them before, but they are very good). Then they announce that the opener is coming out: Glen Phillips. I look at my wife: “Did they just say Glen Phillips?” She just looked at me like a deer looks at an oncoming train. Then, barefoot and guitar toting, Glen walked out on stage. He played some great solo stuff, and a couple of Toad songs. I got his new album shortly thereafter (Winter Pays for Summer: go order it now, along with his other new stuff. It’s okay, I’ll wait. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . You’re back? Great, you won’t regret it.), and then a friend let me know that he was playing a little place called the Triple Door in May.
Wow, a brief intro has turned into a long, drawn out, back story. Hold on, we’re getting there.
So, after getting my Glen tickets, I checked his website to see what was going on and hold on! What was I seeing? Toad getting back together? Doing a summer tour?! I was ecstatic. I got my ticket the weekend they went on sale.
The show was last night. So, I hopped on my little scooter and headed downtown to the Moore. Traffic was blissfully light, and Blazer (my scooter) ran without his usual little hiccups, and got me smoothly and safely downtown. Slipped Blazer into some Rock Star Parking out front (because I am a Rock Star!). I walked right in and grabbed a t-shirt (there were 2xl: yay!) and made my way to my seat: not great, but not too bad either.
I have had great luck lately with opening acts. I think it is a sign of a fantastic artist that they have no problem putting someone almost as fantastic ahead of them. I found out about Guster by seeing Barenaked Ladies (wow, let’s not take that out of context, okay?), David Mead opened for Glen, I caught Glen opening for Carbon Leaf. Well this time it was Matt Nathanson opening for Toad. I’d found out about Matt on Pandora, and bought one of his albums, so I was familiar with his work, somewhat. He was great live. He had a great rapport with the audience, really drew them into the set with a blend of humor and excellent musicianship. Have you ever been to a show, and the opener tried to get the audience to sing along and it just bombed? You can feel the audience looking at the guy and thinking “Who the hell do you think you are?” Not this time. He got almost the entire audience to sing along for his last song. Apparently the key is Journey. Who knew?
So, finally, after a decade of waiting, Toad takes the stage. The first thing I think: these guys are kinda old. Mind you, they aren’t much older than me, and they’ve been making music since they were like 14. The drummer is totally bald, the guitarist is sporting some serious male pattern baldness, and the bassist? Thick full blond hair with big poofy bangs the sway in the breeze of the on-stage fans. Glen, in the middle of the three, looks fairly normal. He also looks like a midget. There is this towering giant in black holding this big bass guitar to his left. A big hefty guy (built like me actually) to his right. Behind him is a drum set. Glen is little.
Then they lay into the set: it’s as if I programmed my favorite songs into my MP3 player, only better. These guys are tight, and they are rocking it. Song after song of blazing geek rock. The evening leaned heavily on tunes from Dulcinea, which was fine by me, although I would have loved to have heard Dam Would Break off of Coil.
Sure sign that you are getting old: You are annoyed when everyone stands up at a rock show. It’s a rock show, for goodness sake! It is expected that everyone’s going to stand up at some point. But here’s the thing: I’m only average height, and invariably the guys standing in front of me are significantly taller than me, more than the slight slope of the floor can compensate for. When I go to a show, I don’t just want to hear the music, I want to watch the musicians play. That is at least half the fun, comparing the style and technique of all the bands I’ve seen, and knowing enough to really enjoy watching a band play.
So, halfway through the show, everyone but Glen leaves the stage, and he plays a couple of songs solo from his solo stuff. Very good stuff. He even gives the audience the choice between True and Easier. We pick Easier, of course. How can you not hear enough of a song with the line, “I want to be the toy in your cereal box; I want to be the Carter at your peace talks.”? Following that, everyone comes back out, and they plug back in, and go into an electric version of Glen’s Everything but You. Absolutely awesome.
The night before the band had played Arlington, and apparently some guy named Eddie was disappointed that they didn’t play a song. Glen mentions that they haven’t played it live in about 12 years, but they worked it out during sound check. Then they ask if Eddie is even there: We all yell back “YES!” Heck, for that moment, my name is Eddie. They launch into Hello, and it was great. It’s nice to know they pull something out like that for a show.
I have to stick this in somewhere, so I might as well put it here. In the row in front of me was the drunk chair dancing guy. Seriously. You know, the guy who stumbles in, has his head down the whole time and he’s dancing like a maniac while sitting in his chair. He’s at every concert, but you don’t always see him, and almost never that close. I felt like Marlin Perkins.
The set ended, the band left the stage, and we all stood there clapping and screaming. Guess what? The band came back! Oh, the power of applause. Plus we couldn’t see our way out since the lights were still off, so what else were we to do. A couple more songs and then they left again, only to return one more time. Oh how much power do we hold in these little hands of ours?! One more song and it was the end of the show. Easily one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. It ranks with Peter Gabriel, the first time I saw the Stones, and the Weird Al show that happened during a lunar eclipse.
I hopped back onto Blazer and headed home. He didn’t behave so well this time. I nursed a dying spark plug until I was a few blocks from home, then it gave up the ghost. Rather than change the plug I pushed it the last few blocks home, said “Hi” to the dog and went to bed. All in all a great night at a great show.
