Thursday, February 06, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Music: That '90s show

Toad the Wet Sprocket re-forms...for now

By Mike Prevatt

It's fair to say the general music-listening public wasn't waiting with bated breath for explanations as to why rock act Toad the Wet Sprocket disbanded in July 1998. The Santa Barbara-based quartet had scored heavy radio airplay with 1991's "All I Want" and 1993's "Fall Down," among other singles, but by the late '90s its straightforward, melodic guitar sound had bred too many imitators (Matchbox 20, Tonic, etc.) to remain a fresh and vital presence. Still, the band possessed a sizable and loyal following not ready for the band to call it a day so early in its career-- just a year after releasing its fifth studio album, Coil.

"More than anything, we had been together forever, [since] we were kids," says lead singer Glen Phillips. "We've never done anything else, or had any facilities to deal with that.

"Before it got bad, we stopped. It was headed in a direction we didn't like."

Toad was arguably one of the first alternative rock bands to employ a folk-based approach to the post-rock genre and crossover from college radio to the mainstream. Just as Nirvana and Soundgarden were fascinating rock fans with their bombastic approaches in 1991, Toad won fans of a subtler yet unabashedly emotive sound. "All I Want" became a Top 20 hit shortly after R.E.M. had broken through the mainstream with its own jangly anthem, "Losing My Religion." As a result, its 1994 album, Fear, sold more than a million copies. Its follow-up, the slightly harder-rocking Dulcinea, sold roughly the same amount. Toad's success paved the way for bands like the Gin Blossoms, Hootie and the Blowfish, Counting Crows and several other bands MOR-enough to cater to all members of the household.

In fact, it was the Crows who spurred the Toad's reunion last year, when it called up the band members and asked them if they wanted to go on tour. However, Phillips was concentrating on a prolific solo career, while guitarist Todd Nichols had formed the band Lapdog. Which isn't to say the topic of reuniting hadn't been proposed earlier.

"[Drummer] Randy [Guss] brought up the idea once or twice before," says Phillips. "I wasn't ready for it. People would [keep asking], and one week, I didn't have a reason to say no. So, off we went."

In December, the band re-emerged with a charity gig in Santa Barbara, as well as a handful of gigs supporting Counting Crows. The subsequent excitement among its fans motivated Toad to schedule a headlining tour of its own for 2003.

"We started getting reactions pretty quick," says Phillips. "I had no idea the response would be as good as it's been. We didn't know the tour would sell. We were happy and amazed."

However, the 24-date jaunt--sponsored by Hershey, oddly enough--is the only activity on the band's itinerary. No spring shows are scheduled, nor has the band discussed the potential of a new album. Besides the band's side projects, raising families, no longer having a label contract and the newness of the reformation, it is being cautious to not fall prey to what broke it apart previously.

"It's been a lot of time, there's a whole lot of history, so we just have this tour planned," says Phillips. "There's no point doing more touring without new material, and we have to see if we're even into doing new material. The worst thing is it [turning] into a day job."

But now that the band has opened Pandora's box and aroused its ever-devoted fan base, doesn't it feel the demand to continue as a band?

"I'm trying not to [think about it]," says Phillips. "I suppose there could be more pressure. I'm taking it one step at a time. When Toad broke up, I was miserable. After that, there was no purpose [to keep playing music], unless it was bringing me joy. It's either gonna work or not. It's gonna be something I deeply care about. There are plenty of songs. I'm just working and that makes me happy."