The Return of Toad

Last Saturday I was finally able to break a vicious, vicious, cycle. In the past I've been getting really into bands only to find they've broken up (or had otherwise stopped touring). It started with the Presidents of the United States of America, then Sublime, then Ben Folds Five. It was as if my developing more than cursory knowledge of a band caused "artistic differences." This pattern threatened to repeat itself with Toad the Wet Sprocket which had long been broken up before I bought Dulcinea last year. Fortunately (and surprisingly) the group got back together, if only temporarily, for one last tour. I, and the rest of the crowd at the sold out show, were more than grateful.

The show opened with the Boston-based band Wheat, who I unfortunately missed. I was informed that before the show club managers pointed out all the exits of the club, a ripple of the Rhode Island nightclub tragedy felt here in Boston.

Next was Bleu, another native son of Boston. The set got off to a rough start. "I've broken a lot of strings," Bleu told the crowd after the first song, "but never of the first chord."

Nonetheless, the rest of the set went smoothly and he was even able to get some energy out of the 18+crowd. He was even able to impress the significant number of late 20s and older members of the audience, at least enough for them to hold off on their trip to the bar for a minute.

Versatile in sound, Bleu at times calls to mind a happier, accentless Silverchair. In the song "I'm Doing Alright," his sound is reminiscent of bluesy vintage rock a l?  Van Morrison. In between you have the kind pop/alt-rock that peppered the late 90s (e.g. Third Eyed Blind, Vertical Horizon).

Aside from a fun sing-a-long and good use of a dramatic pause, what distinguished Bleu from the numerous similar sounding bands was his stage presence. The stories he tells and his sense of humor make Bleu is one of those rare artists you would enjoy listening to talk or sing.

A production note or both Bleu and Toad the Wet Sprocket: this show had the best lighting I had ever seen live. It was tailored not only to the particular song, but to the artist as well -- all this without blinding, dizzying, or causing headaches for the audience.

The low hum of chatter between sets was broken by loud cheers as Toad the Wet Sprocket casually made their way on to the stage. Lead singer Glen Phillips addressed the crowd with a simple "hello" which was received with more cheers. The energy level had seriously spiked in the room, even the most nonchalant of grown-ups were visibly excited. Before a constructed night sky in lights the band launched into "Something's Always Wrong." The songs were played with studio perfection with the voices of Phillips and guitarist Todd Nichols blended harmoniously. The crowd would have put a room full of Dashboard fans to shame as they sang along during the Dulcinea-heavy first half of the set.

"You're an amusingly happy group of people," said Phillips during a long applause break after "All I Want" (Which is how you know Toad the Wet Sprocket if you think you've never heard them).

Two of the highlights came from people who weren't members of the band. During one of the earlier songs friend of the band, Tig Pena, provided percussion with a tambourine and ended the song by playing the drums along with the drummer Randy Guss. The group was also joined by slide guitarist Johnny Hawthorn, who played an outstanding slide guitar solo during "Walk on the Ocean." (Information courtesy of a self-proclaimed, "band ambassador," Joe Lyons).

The group took time to showcase their other projects since 1998. Phillips took the stage alone and did a cover of Paul Newman's "Political Science" and a song from his solo album. In turn Nichols and bassist Dean Dinning, who formed the band Lapdog, played two songs from their album with Nichols doing the lead vocals.

"Walk on the Ocean" was the first and predicted encore. The show closed with a surprising second encore: the song, "I Will Not Take These Things for Granted." A fitting ending for a band in what might be the autumn of its career.