Altsounds - Toadies - The Launch Pad

See, there's this joke in New Mexico. It goes like this:

Q: Why is it so windy in New Mexico?
A: Because Texas sucks and Arizona blows.

Well, on the eleventh of July, The Toadies came to the heart of New Mexico (Albuquerque, not Santa Fe), and proved that not everything in Texas sucks. Those of you who, like me, were raised on 90s alternative (oh please oh please don't say grunge) rock, will remember The Toadies by the song "Possum Kingdom." If, like me, you were a Toadies fan, you were left feeling somehow shorted in 2001 when they split after only two albums in seven years. But The Toadies quietly reformed in 2006 with a new bass player and in 2008 released their third studio album, No Deliverance, on Kirtland Records. It's not by any means a bad album, with moments of sheer, seething brilliance (check out Man of Stone and the title track), but it does seem to lack a little of the zing of the first two offerings, Rubberneck and Hell Below/Stars Above.

DO NOT DOUBT, DO NOT BE FOOLED, AND DON'T EVER BE CONFUSED.
THE TOADIES ROCK.

A note about the scene--I don't know if this is true of every town, but at every all-ages show in Albuquerque, there seems to be some (probably drugged up) asshole eighteen year-old who decides it's his duty in life to throw himself spastically at the nearest human from the moment the music starts until he gets tossed out, regardless of what the music is (for instance, I've been moshed-on at a Murder By Death show--during a cello solo). Anyway, at the Toadies show this never happened. The energy in the room was astoundingly and universally positive. Everyone was there to see some great rock, and no one left disappointed. Or badly bruised.

The show was mindblowing. Singer Vaden Todd Lewis seems to have ripened well with age, and at 44 years old, his voice is even richer, thicker, and just more damned rockin' than it was in 1994. Mark Reznicek still beats the living poop out of his drums (and tossed some well-loved sticks into the audience at the show's end), and guitarist Clark Vogeler still rips. Former bassist Lisa Umbarger has been replaced with Doni Blair (formerly of Hagfish), who not only fills out the classic Toadies wall of sound, but also seems to have developed a deep and genuine chemistry with the other members of the band--you'd never know he was a new addition.

A note about the venue--The Launch Pad is without doubt my favorite place to go for shows in Albuquerque, and they have an interesting solution for all-ages shows. The place is a smallish joint with two entrances: one in front that opens into the bar area for those of drinking age, which also has a (tiny) patio for smoking (thank the deity of your choice), and a rear entrance for younger showgoers that opens directly into the stage area. There's a balcony only accessible from the bar, which means that even at an all-ages show we who are of age can enjoy our favorite drinks and still see the band. If we're tall.

The Launchpad also has a decent soundsystem, unlike other larger venues in town, which all seem to sound like caverns (seeing the Dropkick Murphys in a building that used to be an indoor rodeo was one miserable, deafening experience). But on this night in particular, something went wonky with the monitors, so that every time Lewis got within a foot of the mic, he was deafened by feedback. We couldn't hear it in the audience, but by the fourth song ("I Come From the Water"), he'd had enough. The Toadies played a couple of instrumental songs ("Mexican Hairless" and something else I didn't recognize) while the poor sound guy played desperately with the mic, before Lewis finally said

"Fuck it. Can anyone lend me some earplugs?"

You could almost hear the FWWWWWAP of two hundred pairs of foam cylinders being pulled from two hundred pairs of ears. I personally wouldn't want to share earplugs with a complete stranger, but Lewis clearly didn't want to stop the rock. So someone handed up a pair of earplugs and The Toadies played like three more songs, before whoever was in charge of sound finally convinced them to take a break. So they took a break.

So everyone had a beer and a smoke while the sound guys earned their pay. And you know what? That was A-Okay.

We all came sprinting back in from outside when we heard the opening lines of "Possum Kingdom." The band played for maybe another hour and a half, then came back again for a four-song encore. At one point, Lewis even said

"I'm old, man. I should be tired. But I'm not tired. Are you guys tired?"

We were not tired. In total, the show went on for nearly three hours, and almost all of that was actual eargasmic Toadies funtime. I didn't really know what to expect out of these guys, and I had no idea what they'd be playing, but I think they know their audience better than most bands, and almost the entire evening was dedicated to songs from the first two albums. They even played "Pressed Against the Sky." Hot damn.

Because I have a tendency to take tangents and beat around the bush, I'll make this simple:

YOU WILL NEVER SEE ANOTHER SHOW THIS GOOD FOR LESS THAN 25 BUCKS, AND MAYBE NOT AT ANY PRICE.

If The Toadies come to your town, do yourself a favor. GO.

Consider yourselves advised.