-Glen Solo Articles-
（この他のGlenの記事は”Glen Articles”、 Toadの記事は”Toad Articles”へ）
-Glen has grown into a brave and beautiful performer, working hard to keep his voice and point and conscience clear.-
The Santa Barbara Independent Paper
Nov.25-Dec.3,1998 No.627 より（↓）
"6th Annual SBRCC Benefit Concert"についての記事。
今までもToadとして参加していた、Rape Crisis Centerのための慈善コンサート。
太字の最後の方の、"a sweet little waltz about trying not to be so goddamned negative."ってGlenソロソング"My Goal"のことかな＾＾。
The Santa Barbara Independent Paper
The Reviews（Page 49）
Sublime to Ridiculous
Rape Crisis Center benefit
at the Lobero Theatre, Nov. 22
Four fine Santa Barbara rock acts performed for the worthiest cause imaginable this Sunday, and yet the benefit concert for the Rape Crisis Center began with the Lobero Theatre only half-full.
For the first performer, Kirstin Candy, it was an amazing opportunity anyway. She gigs at the downtown bars regularly, but having to play a dodgy electric keyboard over a crappy P.A. to an indifferently noisy crowd of beer drinkers is hardly ideal for a singer/pianist. The Lobero, on the other hand, offered a lovely, nice-sounding room with an attentive captive audience. Kirstin seized the opportunity with both hands, super-sizing her sound with an enormous piano accompanied by drums and violin.
After Kirstin's set, it was Glen Phillips's turn on stage, and the house immediately filled up as if by magic. As frontman for Toad the Wet Sprocket, the singer-guitarist has reliably performed at every RCC benefit. The band has parted ways now, but Glen is no "formerly of" act, as his ex-Toad bandmate Randy Guss pointedly emphasized by personally introducing Glen as one of America's premier solo singer-songwriters.
Randy wasn't just being nice, either. Glen, who started his singing career mumbling teenage uncertainties like a circa-1985 Michael Stipe, has grown into a brave and beautiful performer, working hard to keep his voice and point and conscience clear. Neither the depth of his themes nor the height his falsetto could make him crack.
This has been an extremely intense year for the guy, how experienced all at once the loss of the band that was his focus and the father that was his guidepost, and the blessings of a new child and deeper marriage. What most people would consider an emotional torture test, Glen would probably prefer to think of as a valuable learning opportunity, and so the Birkenstock Buddha shared his observations and experiences with the crowd in a gently provocative way, using vehicles like "a sweet little waltz about trying not to be so goddamned negative." No one got off the hook with easy answers: "Faith alone is a prison," he sang. When he paid homage to the prosaic joys of family, it carried the weight of reality.
Perhaps folks had kids to put in bed, because the crowd shrunk back to its first-act size when Glen departed. The fools---they missed Blazing Haley! From the second singer Matt Armor swiveled his hips on stage in shiny magenta pants with white fringes to the second he tipped his rhinestone-studded cowboy hat at the big finish, the West Coast's top psychobilly band put on a show. David Kruger got down with his seven-foot-tall double bass, swinging it riding it like a pony, gettin' on his back and playing it upside-down. Chris Story drummed like a man possessed despite having walked on stage on crutches. It was a sight to behold, but whoever was doing sound for this set deserved a swift kick in the pants. For the first three songs, Brian Lakey couldn't hear his own guitar, and neither could the audience, so he nonchalantly turned the backup vocal mike on his amp and rocked out all the harder. Matt grinned. "It's great to be up here tonight." The audience whooped and clapped like a full house, the band struck up another song about sex and hot rods and their set came to a close.
It didn't take long for Nerfherder, the unchallenged masters of nerdcore, to get ready. The Nerfs had been worried that their own political incorrectness would pose a problem, and almost immediately their fans began baiting them. "Play the poo-poo song!" shouted one guy. "We will not be playing the poo-poo song," singer-guitarist Parry Gripp intoned firmly. "Play "Love Sandwich!"" demanded a mischievous young woman. "We will definitely not be playing "Love Sandwich,"" he insisted.
The set began nervously As Parry noted, they don't usually play venues where their feet don't stick to the floor. The band cautiously pulled out songs like "Second Best" and "Easy Mark"... whose chorus "she's an easy mark" had a whole different resonance in this context. But the vibe gradually grew like a rolling snowball propelled largely by the manic Steve Sherlock, who twirled and hurled about a dozen drumsticks and bled on his drums until suddenly, as if it had never been anything else, it was a Nerfherder show. Parry walked out into the audience on the skinny wooden armrests of theater's age-old seats and invited the entire audience back with him, and after a moment's hesitation, most of them took him up on it, scrambling on stage behind him to play air bass with Marko or break-dance like a goofball or sing along, until the scene resembled one big unrehearsed junior-high musical. Secure that the audience was With Them, the band started playing anything they wanted (including the poo-poo-soing). Steve actually got more juiced up and started playing his drums while standing on his stool only to be literally pushed out of the way by Blazing Haley bassist, Dave, who took over the drums while Steve and Blazing Matt ran up and added obnoxious backup vocals. What better way to end a dead-serious show than joyful, chaotic anarchy?