Dispatches From A Toadies Show

For an 18 and over show, why does one person check your ID to make sure you’re old enough to get in and another person check your ID to make sure you’re old enough to drink? Maybe the goons that have chosen doorman as their career can only handle one “You must have been born on this date in 1990 (or 1987)” sign before they pull a cranial muscle.

Holy crap. People born in 1990 were probably at the show. By 1990 I had already been fitted for my first set of dentures and given up saltwater taffy. I have shirts older than they are. Seriously. They were still wetting their beds when the first Toadies record was released. That’s right, I said “record”. Maybe it should have been a 35 and older show.

Year Long Disaster opened. The son of a member of a significant classic rock band and his buddy drink too much, do too many drugs, go to rehab and clean up and then unknowingly recruit the drummer from a 90’s pop band to complete their power trio. Unfortunately their bio was more interesting than their music. They were loud. They rocked. But all the songs started to sound the same. The guitarist was freakishly tall or the bassist was freakishly short. I didn’t have any other point of reference so I can’t tell. Maybe I should have taken a picture with a quarter in the foreground for later analysis. The guitarist had a thing about pointing at the crowd as if the drummer had been shooting ducks and he was showing us where to retrieve them. The guitarist also had a habit of doing that move where he stumbles around like he’s drunk and has to keep catching his balance. It was cool when David Byrne did it during Psycho Killer but anyone attempting it since then just kind of looks like a bad extra in an old western like Bobby Brady used to watch at high volume in the Brady family room. But I digress. Bottom line is that they weren’t a total disaster and it was only a 30-minute set and not an entire year long. That might have been tiresome. Except for the one guy in the crowd who was totally giving them the rock n’ roll fist pump.


People in Planes was up next and I had already decided I strongly disliked them after spending about 8 seconds on their website. By the time they were setting up I was hoping that their amps would fall over on them and they wouldn’t have the strength to extract themselves. When did bands stop looking like the kind of scary guys who never finished high school and start looking like the kids who got to school early on Monday mornings to discuss that latest Dr. Who episode? I think the dual lead vocalists both want to be Billy Corgan, but they both have as much a chance of achieving that dream as I have of making out with Billie Jean King. However, I almost bought a CD because it looked like they desperately needed the cash for some shampoo and a flea dip. But in fairness, if you were born before this day in 1985, it appears that you might have been born with a gene that allows you to bob your head along and bask in the apparent coolness that People in Planes bear below their extremely annoying surface. Although I can’t help but wonder if half those people bobbing their heads along were doing so just because it seemed like the hipster thing to do. I didn’t get sucked into their hipster vibe and just made fun of them until they took their amps and went home.

I think it was Nietzsche who said, “Bands which do not kill us make us even more appreciative of the Toadies.” Right on, Fred, right on.

As far as the Toadies set, they’re still rocking as hard as they were when we saw them in the summer so if you need a reminder just check out my last review. However, I did like the set list better this time around. But that’s kind of like getting your favorite counter girl at the bakery – either way you know you’re going to go home with a cupcake, but that extra touch is just icing on the (cup)cake.

Even though we were the "best crowd in the last month" VTL said they couldn't stick around after the show because they had to put the pickled beets on the motor boat. My ears were a little shot by then so I may have misheard. But that was okay, because it was Sunday and I had to get the Mrs. home since she has to get up at 5 a.m. or else I think people start dying. I don't need that crap on my hands.

I personally don’t sleep much to begin with, but starting the week out sleep-deprived is like dropping your cupcake on the floor. Sure, you’re still going to eat it, but you’ll be picking carpet fibers out of your teeth for the next couple days. And it’s worse because I can never get to sleep after a concert like that - maybe if it were Neil F-ing Diamond, but after anything rowdier than Sweet Caroline and I need a burrito and some Bailey's to get to sleep. I hear Bo Derek has the same problem.