So this is quite possibly the worst film ever... quality, that is. But if you strain, you can hear it. The first few strains of Toad the Wet Sprocket live in Portland at McMennamins' Crystal Ballroom. Rob and I had a stellar evening reminiscing about old times with Toad.
Side note: It's incredibly strange that all Toad fans seem to be equally terrible dancers. I swear the whole night people were jumping, bobbing, swaying, weaving... completely out of time. But hey, I guess that's why all us nerds were listening to Toad instead of MC Hammer or Boyz 2 Men; because none of us could do the Roger Rabbit.
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