I've done some pretty bad things through the years. Rather than talking to a priest, I thought I'd disclose some of my miserable misdeeds and missteps in this very space in an effort to unburden my guilty conscious, repent for my sins and perhaps earn some much-needed forgiveness. It takes a strong man to admit his mistakes and I'm as strong as they come. With that, I give you Part 1 in an ongoing serious of "Atoning for My Sins: Mr. Ehrbar Regrets."
...that I counted myself a fan of the music made by Toad the Wet Sprocket, a cover band of the R.E.M. cover band, Guadalcanal Diary, in the early 1990s. Yes, I lapped up this cream corn of "college folk rock" as if it was precious protein that would sustain my existence and lead me to enlightenment. I purchased three Toad the Wet Sprocket albums, Bread and Circus, Pale and Fear, and was tempted to liberate the marble-vinyl promo copy of Pale from the radio station where I volunteered. (To my credit, I didn't jack it.) I draped an over-sized promotional poster of Fear on a wall in my bedroom at the college house I occupied in 1992. That same year I helped publicize (via radio) Toad's Spokane performance at the '80s hair-metal joint Gatsby's, which culminated in my appearance in the audience at said performance.
I don't know who or what set me straight, but some time around 1994 I orphaned my Toad CDs at the local used record depot and never looked back--for that I am not sorry. But I am sorry for briefly being enamored of this band's jingle-jangle crap rock. I was a victim of my own bad taste.