That Toad the Wet Sprocket ended their show singing, “Just memories to hold / That grow sweeter each season / As we slowly grow old” was fitting given the circumstances. They’re playing yet another reunion tour and the nostalgia of early ‘90s alternative pop stardom lingered closely, both for them and their fans. Front man Glen Phillips is the only member with a compelling or successful solo career. But it also wasn’t the catalyst for their seminal break up so hitting the road with Toad—as they’re affectionately referred to—was for pleasure, not business.

Webster Hall—which underwent a “renovation” recently, meaning converting its ambiguously ancient Egypt/Aztec theme into an ambiguously ancient Rome/Medieval theme—was relatively packed with only 35 year-olds. One could still feel the pumping bass of remixes playing in the basement bar. But as this was a trip down memory lane, including trying to reenact past make-out sessions and substance abuses, nothing could deter them. 

It also made me consider a notion I once heard that musical tastes are cemented by age 25. Looking around me it seemed perfectly true.

Finally taking the stage, the band made a few quips about it being great to see everyone “again” and launched into “P.S.”, a song with steady strumming with a beat to match. Supposedly one of the band’s first compositions ever (1986?), it was an appropriate nod to their history together and the first of many during their set.

Classics like “Something’s Always Wrong” and “Whatever I Fear” wallowed in the flannel-cloaked angst of their ‘90s heyday, but the mood was memorializing. Guitarist Todd Nichols’ guitar echoed a brilliant reverb through his Vox, and in tandem with Phillips’ acoustic guitar reproduced their prototypical guitar-drenched sound.

Before “Butterflies” Phillips asked, “who knows the hidden spoken words on Butterflies?” A worthy winner was chosen, Karen, who then got to go perform the song onstage with the band. Though undoubtedly excited, she played it super cool.

“Good Intentions” received some of the loudest cheers during the night, to the point that the show could have been mistaken for a “Friends” cast party.

Phillips complimented how beautifully the crowd aged, then proceeded to mock the very same thing, offering up their mandolin and lap steel player Johnny Hawthorn for parties, weddings, and bar mitzvahs—and dates added bass player Dean Dinning. The band’s self-deprecating handling of its reunion played well with the equally aging crowd, leaving a night of reminiscing and old-fashioned alternative rock.