

They reformed in 2001 and have been a regular presence on the Nineties nostalgia circuit ever since. It began a vicious downward spiral that culminated with frontman Chris Barron (who doesn't even have his own Wikipedia page) losing his voice and the group taking a break. The Spin Doctors didn't help matters by releasing the limp and tuneless "Cleopatra's Cat" as the first single from the second album. The band embodied a brief era, which often leads to a pretty swift and severe backlash when that era ends. "Two Princes" and "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong" were blaring out of every car on the street. Pocket Full of Kryptonite was the Frampton Comes Alive of the early Nineties: absolutely everybody had it. Before they knew it, they signed to Epic and were on MTV as often as Guns N' Roses and Pearl Jam. They were a New York hippie bar band known for their marathon shows.

It's easy to forget just how massive the Spin Doctors were in 19.

Image Credit: Ron Galella, Ltd./WireImage It's the Circle of Matthews, and it's forever turning. "Back when I was in the college charts, we were about all I listened to, but I guess I'm at the point in my life where my music just doesn't speak to me." But for every twentysomething that moves on from the Dave Matthews Band, there's a 15-year-old picking up his first copy of Under the Table and Dreaming, and the cycle begins anew. "Me and my band are still okay, but I feel like I've grown out of us," Matthews was quoted. A 2005 article from the Onion with the headline "Dave Matthews Not That Into Himself Anymore" captured this nicely. They don't exactly have a popularity problem, but some fans feel they lost their way after the Nineties. They practically print money each summer when they tour. Now, this is still a band that sells a ridiculous amount of concert tickets. To paraphrase What About Bob?, there's two kinds of people in the world: those who love Dave Matthews Band and those who don't.
