Toad, Resurrected, July 27, 2022

Toad, July 27, 2022

 

Wednesday night July 27, 2022

The little band box on Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge was stuffed with virtual tinder.

 

Like a spark from stone and flint, it erupted in one virtual soul and psyche purification flame when the righteous Fred Griffeth and his top-tier Fandango band struck the first chords of the first song. 

 

The ageless Fred Griffeth sang robustly to the good souls in Toad, in the cleansing ritual known by all as “choich“. 

 

How much joy can you stuff into a little outpost like this? How many angels can you fit on the head of a pin?

 

The set list was familiar. The faces in the crowd were sprinkled with a handful of newcomers.

 

The psycho emotional fervor of the flock was in need of a bi-weekly calling down of the spirit. Three songs in and we had all been led to the figurative river, gently immersed, baptized bona fide, and ready to testify. Rapture was within reach. Given the daily news diet of human and ecological mayhem, we were pilgrims, supplicating, waiting for 90 minutes of salvation. 

 

If there were drones circling overhead to manage the electrical grid of Cambridge, they might have called in an alert for the inexplicable dot of energy coming from 1912 Mass Ave.

 

Close inspection would show no cause for alarm, no danger to the grid. Data would show that a similar energy vortex would be detectable every other every Wednesday from the same address.

Photo courtesy of Carol Fondé

 

Many of the flock were perched at the mahogany bar, others sitting on the brawny ancient curved bench leading up to the bandstand. A few people strolling past the door were sucked into the righteous rock and blues house of worship and found themselves surrounded by kindred spirits from legal drinking age to card-carrying members of the AARP.

 

Griffeth, always animated and spontaneously emoting, sang from the soles the flip flops on his brown feet, tapping into the energy from the roiling core of the earth. At some point, I don’t know whether he even saw us.  Consumed by stagecraft and the art of connecting, Griffeth merged into a sublime fourth dimension, the musicians soloing in intent pursuit.

 

The man was speaking in tongues of gospel, rock n roll, blues, and Americana. Griffeth left the song charts behind.  In musical legerdemain, he became a euphoric energy dervish that, like a black hole, sucked us deep into our own euphoria. Critical mass was achieved, early and often.

 

I had not been to Toad since March 2020. The place had become shuttered. Many believed that it would fall to the pandemic malaise and become a footnote in our collective memory.

 

But no… A physical space can become abandoned boarded up and obliterated. But with a force fueled and kept alive by the collective memory of those who seek salvation, (is there any other word for this?), there on Wednesday nights, not so much.

 

I showed my vaccination card, walked in the door, sucked in my breath, and nearly sobbed. I was home. 

 

Safe. Amongst kindred spirits. And this bar of such compact dimensions wrapped its arms around me, warmly whispering, “Hey Stranger, where have you been?”

 

“You waited for me!” I whispered, pleased with the recognition.

 

“That’s what friends do,” said the disembodied voice from above the purple neon “TOAD“ sign just above the door.

 

https://toadcambridge.com

Fandango

Fred Griffeth, vocals

Andy Santospago, guitar

Chris Anzalone, percussion

Steve Monahan, bass

Ryan Claunch on keys

                    

Photo courtesy of Carol Fondé

As always, comments welcome

                                                                                                                          

Comments

[Mishy and Chris]

I absolutely LOVED reading this one Paul. Thank You! Maybe we can go with you someday?

[Paul A Tamburello, Jr aka pt at large]

Let's do it. Check the calendar at https://toadcambridge.com

[Janny Watson]

Oh dear Paul
A transformative experience -
I feel a flush of excitement and
energy reading this . Really how much joy CAN you stuff into a
little outpost .
Sounds smoking’ hot !!!
A big hug for you and much respect to Fred, his band and followers !!

[Susan Bennett]

Sounds amazing! Your writing too was taken to the heights.

[Paul A Tamburello, Jr aka pt at large]

I don't know if lightning strikes every other Wednesday night and intend to find out.

[Paul A Tamburello, Jr aka pt at large]

Not having witnessed a show there for over two years, happy the stubborn little place refused to fold, the story practically wrote itself as I sat on my porch and dictated it into my iPhone the next night.The music molecules spoke. I listened and dictated.

[Elaine]

So good to see you and all once again. It really is our home away from home. Every soul there feels the love.
Thanks for describing the atmosphere so wonderfully.

[Lyn Voyda]

Thank you, Paul, For a wonderful description of this amazing band. I hope to be there soon for my 90 minutes of salvation.

[Paul A Tamburello, Jr aka pt at large]

Me too, Lyn,For an ever so brief 90 minutes, Fandango and all of us jammed into the tiny saloon share joyous effervescence.

[Sharon Kennedy]

Absolutely wonderful review. And 100% accurate. Thank you for telling the story so well. For those of you who have not yet attended on a Wednesday night, every word is true - no exaggeration! Sharon