A few of things:

1) White people. That’s who listen to Toad the Wet Sprocket. Exclusively.
2) Glen Phillips, lead singer, has a daughter in fifth grade. Dude used to perform live without shoes or socks on. It was his “thing.” And now, he has to explain that stupidity to a child.
3) The entire set was performed a half step down (at least) in comparison to how the songs were recorded. I suppose this was to help Glen’s aging voice, but a pleasant side effect was that all songs fell conveniently in my vocal range for the first time ever.
4) I noticed the half step thing and that makes me totally insane.

All said, their set was pretty amazing. Of the long list of songs I NEEDED to hear, only two were missed. One of those, unfortunately, is my favorite of all their songs and I’m embedding that at the end of this post.

The weirdest part, however, came during the opening act. It was Brian Vander Ark, former lead singer of the Verve Pipe, and current solicitor of boring acoustic numbers about tempting the devil and how lame the suburbs are and blah blah blah. He played a solo set and carried himself with a cocky douchebaggery that I kind of expected from him. He kept telling us about how things are different now. He writes happy songs now. He doesn’t hate his dad anymore. He, too, has a daughter. And he has solo records for sale in the lobby.

He gave us only two Verve Pipe songs, closing with an a capella version of “The Freshmen.” An annoying route to take, for sure, but I actually got kind of choked up over it. It was a really intense reminder of exactly where I was at that very moment. Had he a full backing band and had they torn through a pitch-perfect rendition of the song, I could have easily daydreamed about being in high school again, with nothing but opportunities ahead, and listening to the entirety of Villains on the way to hang out with my girlfriend at her parents’ beach house. But this was very different. It was the act of someone, 13 years removed from when people gave a shit about him, going through the motions of pandering to an audience who couldn’t care less while trying to be accepted for his current, far more mature, creative output. We were definitely in 2008 and I am definitely 30 and I was definitely listening to Brian Vander Ark, solo, as he totally ignored exactly what all of us needed from him… a pristine recollection of our teenage years.

To that end, Toad the Wet Sprocket did NOT disappoint. They were awesome.

Of course, in practice, the ordeal is far more stressful and soul-wrenching than I had ever expected.

My first crack at mix swap participation was an unmitigated disaster. With a recommended theme of “love” (Valentine’s day was our due date), my entry was an over-thought mess of skippable tracks, some of which were loosely related to the theme. Most weren’t related at all. One was clearly about being too old to be friends with girls whom you’d rather bone. There were some classics but, for the most part, they were buried beneath layers of hey-check-out-this-shit-that-I-hope-you’ve-never-heard-before and please-be-impressed-with-my-superior-musical-taste. It was chock full of songs with which I had only a passing familiarity. It was wholly forgettable. And I spent HOURS on it.

What the hell happened? In my mix-making heyday, this stuff came easy. I’d grab a cassette and load it up with songs I’d listened to a billion times, and I’d give it to a friend who already knew everything about me. On my first foray into mix-making in adulthood, however, I obviously made a point to appear “with it” for people with whom my relationship is purely professional. I mean, would things have been so bad had I loaded the mix up with Braid and Christie Front Drive, the basis for so many mixes past? Would my coworkers think any less of me if I used the project as a means to indulge nostalgia and unearth some classic Built to Spill and Chisel? Who knows. Surely, it would have been more genuine and enjoyable for me had I gone that route. But does that mean that’s what I’ll be doing for our next mix (due June 20)?

Hell no. In fact, this one is already shaping up to be an unlistenable shitstorm. So far, it contains a remix of a Lykke Li track which is far inferior to any album cut she has (but those are obviously off limits as anyone with an internet connection has already heard them). Then, there’s a Fleetwood Mac song. An 80s-era Fleetwood Mac. There’s a Feelies song (one of those bands you’re supposed to like but don’t). There’s a Los Shakers song (who??). There’s an unreleased Yeasayer song that I painstakingly ripped from a video of a live performance as the track isn’t even properly recorded yet. And hey, what Galaxie 500 song is on there? I couldn’t tell you, but there is one. And so on.

I’m not looking to hyper-intellectualize the art of mix-making or the purpose of creating one at all. I’m just saying that mixes of old had a clear message: “I hope we can listen to these songs while we’re making out in my car or in your dorm room while your roommate is at class because I like you and we should probably get star tattoos together.” But, as a 30 year old, swapping mixes with faceless, ultra-hip co-workers, the message gets a little weird. “Here’s some killer Excel accompaniment, and sure, I’ve heard of MGMT.” Or “groove to this whilst prepping for your big meeting, dear 20-something and if you need any more obscure 80s britpop, you know where to find it!” And, obviously, “PLEASE BELIEVE ME, I KNOW A TON ABOUT MUSIC, and am definitely cool. We should probably make out in my car.”

So, in the spirit of making a mix that recalls a time I’d actually make a mix, I’ve created the first IIF? Muxtape. It’s entitled, “Sincere as a Statue: 1996-2001.” It could have been 5 hours long. Instead, it’s 40 minutes. Enjoy. Don’t judge.

Tracklist:
Jimmy Eat World, “What Would I Say to You Now?”
Christie Front Drive, “Radio”
Braid, “Forever Got Shorter”
Damien Jurado, “Ocean Shores ’87″
Built to Spill, “Car”
American Football, “The One With the Tambourine”
Jejune, “Early Stars”
Modest Mouse, “Polar Opposites”
Mock Orange, “Window Shopping”
The Get Up Kids, “Off the Wagon”
Texas is the Reason, “Back and to the Left”
The Promise Ring, “Between Pacific Coasts”