Last night, while New Order rocked the 1stBank center, a new order of a different kind came to The Bluebird theater. Lindsey Stirling stomped into town with her non-traditional violin for a sold out show of around 650 fans of all ages and genders.


At 8:20 the opening act came on, a quirky and kinetic performance by The Vibrant Sound, performing as a one-man vocal and acoustic guitar show with a MacBook on backing. The set was short and enthusiastic, and if not fully understood by the crowd, at least they seemed to be enjoying it.


After a short break, Lindsey came on with a bang, opening up with the energetic instrumental "Moon Trance", dancing about the stage while playing the uptempo strains and gesturing with her bow for punctuation.


"Spontaneous Me" followed, giving another chance for her keyboard player and drummer to show their chops, but the attention was always on the whirling and fiddling Lindsey. Sporting torn fishnet stockings, a single argyle sock and sparkly tennis shoes, her feet were always on the move, dancing left and right, bowing and stepping.


The band ripped through "Shadows" and "Electric Daisy Violin" in short order, before Lindsey gave the drummer and keyboardist a breather and took center stage solo. A self-professed nerd, her dabblings in game themes (Zelda and Skyrim) have made her popular with the gaming crowd. With a cappella performer Peter Hollens joining in by video screen, she executed their Skyrim duet on the darkened stage.


Welcoming the rest of her band back, she cooled off with the mellow "River Flows in You (Yiruma)" before introducing Lindsey’s take on Rihanna’s “We Found Love” set to a video of her dancing and performing for and with locals in "Kenya". This is one of the few songs where Stirling contributes her own vocals, and she can definitely hold her own. Courtesy of a few tweaks to the lyrics, the attitude of the song is 180 degrees from the original, and is uplifting and hopeful.


The next number, the Lord of the Rings Medley is a mash-up of different melodies from Howard Shore’s fantastic themes from the popular movies. Stirling is obviously a fan of epic fantasy, having also covered the theme from HBO’s Game of Thrones (also with Peter Hollens), but she didn’t break out that song at The Bluebird.


Taking a turn in a whole different direction, she went "Bad", pulling on a sequined glove and sunglasses to highlight Michael Jackson in a whirlwind tour of the late artist’s musical career (or at least the parts Stirling learned to dance to as a kid). The crowd welcomed this trip to a familiar beat, clapping along.


The autobiographical and very new "Zi Zi’s Journey" (Zi Zi was a childhood nickname) followed, transitioning to the immensely popular YouTube hit "Crystallize" (featuring the music video shot here in Colorado at the Silverthorne Ice Castles). "Crystallize" was one of my introductions to dubstep, and it led me to expand my musical frontiers as a result, beyond it just being a powerful and energetic song of its own.


The final song of the main set was "Transcendence", a song with overtones (and video) about overcoming stereotypes projected by the world around in order to realize your own potential. A fitting riff to close with on the first concert tour of a self-made musician exploring her own genres.


I had intentionally not read or viewed anyone’s accounts or videos of the show in order for it to be fresh to my ears. It was therefore a genuine and welcome surprise when the band returned for the single-song encore wearing masks, and launched into a powerful rendition of The Phantom of the Opera. This song fit right in below the leering masks of the Bluebird’s own theatre decor. This was an intense note to go out on, and for the performers it must have been seven grueling minutes of going to eleven.


The merch table was offering the usual posters and stickers, and had a new offering -- Lindsey Stirling, a 12-track album released in September comprised of all-original compositions, seven of which were performed in the show. Other notable Stirling tracks (including covers and Christmas songs) are available from a smattering of sources including iTunes and her own website. iTunes also has the digital copy of the album for $12.

Stirling’s tour heads west from here to her home territories of Utah and then Arizona before heading up the West Coast. Many shows are already sold out, but additional dates and larger venues are being added. Do yourself a favor and if you’re looking for something new, fresh and beautiful, try to make it to a Lindsey Stirling show. Maybe you’ll enjoy a rocking evening of making violins exciting. Maybe like me, you’ll find whole new genres of music you want to explore (“Dubstep for 40-Year-Olds, a How-To Manual”). For my part, I’ve added a new item to my Bucket List: “Drop The Bass”.

See more pictures from this show in our Facebook photo gallery!

Friday September 14 was just another day on Colfax, but appearances can be deceiving.   Many a night have I walked these Denver streets thinking I may have stumbled onto the set of the newest apocalypse-themed movie where the world has already lost most of the living to [insert here: zombies, disease, water, asteroids, magic].  Similar nights have exposed the inconspicuous bars and venues to be contrary to what their outward appearances would have you believe.   Even on Colfax, the longest road in America and a magnet for rowdy troublemakers, things seemed pretty tame as I made my way to the Bluebird Theater to catch the double-headliners Rubblebucket and Reptar.


The opening act, Icky Blossoms were the opening band and this stop in Denver was their first night playing with the tour lineup.  These Nebraskans are based in Omaha and are on the famed emo staple of yore, Saddle Creek Records.  Their sound bends toward to the Faint end of the spectrum rather than the Bright Eyes end.  They will actually be playing a few shows with The Faint in November and December which would be a great pairing for any electro-indie music lovers out there.  When I walked into the Bluebird, loud dance beats pervaded the auditorium, almost louder than what would be normal had more bodies been present to absorb the sound. Clearly propped against the wall were two large, silvery boxes that would later come to life, but sitting there propped up they looked totally natural and I barely gave them a second glance.  Singer Sarah Bohling asked in between songs, "Who here likes porn?" to which she got little reaction, maybe due to a lack of audience or a lack of porn enthusiasts. The front row was filled with day-glo "x"-handed kids who most likely did like porn but didn't want to be judged by the handful of people that would be around to hear them say so. It's better not to react or stand out or put yourself out there for judgement, when you are younger right? Well the attitude pervades throughout age barriers and stereotypes.  During the last song, "Heat Lightening," the band members had affixed large colorful LED lights to their persons and the stage was glowing like the day-glo hats and shirts of the front row audience.


When it was time for Reptar to begin their set, a sizable crowd had formed in the lower floor area and around the main stage.  For one of the first times in my patronage of the Bluebird, I noticed that the stage left area had been roped off as a sort of VIP space.  I think it was mainly for the artists, since there was 14 of them all together that night and probably not enough space for them to all fit into the backstage designated artist area.  A great wave of excitement was tangible as the foursome came on stage with their modest presentation, the only one of the three bands without flashing-light accessories.  What Reptar lacking in flashing apparati, they made up for with flashy dance moves.  There is rhythm in my soul, but that rhythm has never translated well to the physical outpourings that may result when the time comes to let loose; seeing Graham Ulicny and Jace Bartet 's dance mastery was at once inspiring and entrancing. Especially Bartet -- I mean that guy is rhythm incarnate; seeing him dance just made you want to smile and dance along with him, like a trippy Pied Piper.



Ulicny was able to move in time with the music and used his body as an instrument for maneuvering multiple mics, guitar-pacing and jamming, and various motions to either his left or right.   Chuck Klosterman look-a-like Ryan Engelberger was mostly stationary, making a break to fetch a handmade rose crown that was tossed at the stage from the audience.  William Kennedy on the keyboard was a sight in his glittery pants, and would occasionally let loose burst of energy that saw him jump at least 3 feet in the air and created a hair display as he let his long tresses sway from side to side.  There was of course a drummer, but these four created a wall of sound and dance that veiled Andrew McFarland and his magical percussion was a backdrop to the stage, just like the fog machine or the marijuana leaf beach towel used as an amp cover.  The band played from their limited arsenal of songs, having only recently released their first full-length album Body Faucet and having an EP besides that.  Highlights from the set were "Sebastian" (Ulicny here remarked, "This is a song about the first time I kissed a boy"), "Rainbounce" (from their EP Oblangle Fizz Y'all), and "Orifice Origami" (lots of dancing on stage for that one).  I must recommend that anyone who has yet to see Reptar live please do so the very next chance you get; you won't be disappointed.  If you don't like having fun, you may be disappointed.


The floodgates opened after Reptar's set and the setting was simultaneously deplete of most day-glo youngsters and filled to the gills with dreaded, loosely clothed hippies.  A full-fledged transformation took place in the Bluebird's musical chambers, to which I may again refer to my stance on the unassuming nature of Denver's haunts.  I had no idea how much more raucous the stage could be, and soon found out that Rubblebucket comes with an energy that many can warm up to, young punks and hippies alike.  When Rubblebucket was setting up their blacklights and neon mic stand scraves, I made my way down to try and get some good photos of the band.  I had heard that they liked to dress up, that there were stage props and such, so I wanted to grab a few good photos as I noticed the venue was getting considerably less spacious and more crowded.  A young Boulder couple were swaying and slurring in a way that seemed dangerously closed to alcohol poisoning or (more likely) under the influence of some hallucinegens.  They commented on my camera, let me know that I was in for a treat once Rubblebucket started, and offered to sell me something that I couldn't quite catch for at that same moment the audience roared to life as the band members took the stage.



Not quite an eight person ensemble this evening, the group was comprised of a trombonist and trumpeter, two guitars, a drummer and the singer/sax player.  The additional keyboard player was Reptar's Kennedy, possibly filling in for a missing member.  When singer Kal Traver walked up to the mic, the crowd roared and all the band members switched on large led fixtures hanging from their necks.  The group sounds like a pop band, but moves like a reggae band or a jam band; I am particularly fond of the choreographed moves of the horn players.  During their set, Rubblebucket played a crowd-pleasing rendition or remix of "Heart of Glass" by Blondie, with Traver's alto interpretation of Debbie Harry and many electronic loops and horn solos thrown in the mix.  It was during this song that I noticed the silvery robot contraptions had come to life with glowing eyes and waving arms, making their way through the crowd and spilling beers along the way.  It was a site to behold, and many of the concert-goers were fully entranced by the dancing robots, a few high-fives given here and there.  The crowd was 100% in motion up until the last song before encore "Came Out of a Lady" which had me dancing, so much so in fact that I kneed the metal handrail in front me out of joy; a joy bruise the next day.

After the show, my head was swimming with sounds and I could still see flashing lights from all of the LED apparati.  I was so entranced after the show that I walked right past a friend who was calling my name and waving at me from the East High School lawn.  A great lineup and a great night of transformations from Rubblebucket, Reptar and Icky Blossoms.  See more pictures from the show online on our Facebook Album.

We are getting close to that time of year known as the end of summer.  It seemed endless and infinite for a while there, but it does indeed have an expiration date.  Summer's demise can be a bit dubious; summer is more officially over when the fall equinox occurs on September 22, or one could say Labor Day weekend is the symbolic end, and maybe others would contend that the first day of school is really the nail in summer's coffin.  I think all of those are acceptable answers, not that I really want to dwell on the end of our sunny season.  What also occurs to me as being a sign that summer has ended, is the prevalence of contagious diseases that really come into their own when all the kids are back in school and as we get closer to cold winter months.  For a group whose songs refer to more diabolical endings, death by disease isn't so pertinent to what Murder By Death offer their fans, but it is pertinent to what I experienced this weekend while I was slow to get out this review.  For that I apologize, and would just like to say I'm officially ready for the fall.  Germ-y children everywhere are welcome to find me, and knock on wood, do their worst as I am certain my immune system must be somewhat fortified after whatever it was that I survived and am still surviving.

But back to the heart of the matter here:  Murder By Death played back-to-back nights at the Bluebird Theater last week as they began the first leg of what will be mostly a fall tour.  So, in a way, what I'm trying to pull together in this allusion to death is a general feeling that the fall season is being summoned in different ways, some of them more pleasant than others, and what better way to begin the fall with new music, and friends and some boot-stompin' good times.  Boot-stompin' not only for the bluesy, alt-country music of all three bands performing last Thursday but also due to the prevalence of boots on the stage.  Lots of boots.  And they were mostly of stompin' variety.  See pictures from the night conveniently on our Facebook page (boots not so much included).


The 4 On the Floor is a band from Minneapolis, MN whose band name might refer to the four band members incorporated, or the four kick-drums they all have set up as part of their stage ensemble, or to the rhythm pattern also known as 4/4 time; most likely the answer is "D. All of the Above".  Very energetic with a raw, bluesy sound that came from the guitar virtuosity of both vocalist Gabriel Douglas and guitarist James Gould.  They played a great cover of "Why Don't We Do It In The Road?" by Sir Paul McCartney, and offered many great guitar solos and facial expressions.  They also invited the audience to play bloody knuckles with them after the show.  And that's how you get a party started.



Ha Ha Tonka was back in town after just being in Denver this past June with Langhorne Slim, now on tour with labelmates Murder By Death.  I saw them with Springfield-mates, Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin, at the Hi-Dive back in November and they seem to be further perfecting their style of a capella, toe-tappin', indie hoedown music that I had seen for the first time not too long ago.  And I say hoedown only using the utmost respect for the term; the sharp skills both vocally and instrumentally of Ha Ha Tonka would make good use of the intricate fiddle solos and line dancing associated with hoedowns and will admit both are far above my skills to ever attempt.  On songs such as "St. Nick on the Fourth in a Fervor" you would hear an excellent example of the style of loud, choral singing during instrument breaks that this band performs so well.  Then things take a turn for indie hoedown again when vocalist Brian Roberts urges the crowd with the heartland credo: "Everybody say hell yeah!"


For their last number, "12-inch Three-Speed Oscillating Fan," the group invited Scott Brackett on stage from Murder By Death.  The multi-instrumentalist was in charge of the keyboards, accordion, trumpet, mandolin and theremin that evening and it was nice to see him introduced early to shred a little with Ha Ha Tonka.  The song in particular gives the group a chance to really show it's form; it's actually a cover song from another band from Springfield called Big Smith.



Murder By Death was playing an excellent mix of new and old songs, and had mentioned to the crowd that they were making some choice selections so as not to disappoint any fans making it by the Bluebird for both nights of their Denver performances.  They started off the evening with "The Devil in Mexico" with a great audience reaction, and soon transitioned into crowd-pleasers like "I'm Comin' Home" and "Foxglove."  This band is about a decade old, and most likely have had many fall tours under their belt to date.  I always wonder what it is that keeps a band going, keeps them excited and inspired to play the same music night after night, year after year.  Is it the subtle variations that skilled musicians can improvise to their tried-and-true tunes on a whim?  Is it the thrill of getting to play the new material that no one has heard before, mixed in with the old stuff?  I mean, orchestra musicians probably play the same songs their entire lives; maybe as a professional, you constantly seek to make each next performance more perfect than the last.  The band that embraces the macabre should know best that when you have resigned yourself to accepting the routine existence of repetition without meaning, then you have truly embraced death.  Murder By Death look every bit alive when they're playing to a crowded house, even ten years later.


Murder By Death have a new album coming out in September titled Bitter Drink, Bitter Moon.  As the album title might suggest, the band is sticking to their whiskey-stained style of music.  And true to form, the song matter is still brooding and murderous as singer Adam Turla noted while introducing one new song:  "This [new song] is about a lover who died drowned in the river and is trying to take [their other half] down too from beyond the grave.  We're Murder By Death and we're from southern Indiana."  The group deserves a toast for their overly successful Kickstarter campaign and if you pre-order their album, you get a special edition paper lantern.  I really love the creative spirit this band has, and it's very exciting to see them off on what will surely be a great fall tour!

It was a dark, cool evening in August of 2012.  It was First Friday, so many people were afoot in the Five Points neighborhood where the RiNo Art District opens it's doors to the many city-dwellers who enjoy this popular summer activity.  This Friday in particular seemed perfect for a acoustic-folk jams in an intimate setting.  The Meadowlark's basement entrance was glowing red on the corner of Larimer and 27th Street.  The red light had an attractive quality to it for anyone who had happened by, as was the case with two unknowing gentleman who thought they were at the Larimer Lounge.

The scene was humming with sound check wrapping up and conversations drifting from the back patio, but you never know what you are walking into when you descend the staircase and enter the quaint underground lair that is the main bar and venue of this avian-labeled joint.  As I waited for a friend's arrival, I got word from him that he was close by, just "under a blanket of lights."  The night was getting more intriguing with these poetic riddles, and I wondered about what it meant for the rest of the evening.  What it meant immediately was that I shouldn't always try to read between the lines, as this friend in particular was simply on the wrong side of town.  But it did set the tone for some thoughtful wordplay, similar to the music we were about to enjoy from the talented and lyrically-savvy group of performers on the night's bill at the Meadowlark.


The night humbly began with The Belle Jar, of which the singer Ryan James let us know that we would be party to an acoustic set due to their missing drummer, JJ Chamberlain, absconding to the My Morning Jacket/Red Rocks show for the night.  Luckily there was a cajon, and I say so not for any lack of percussion in the group but for the fact that it really added to the performance and feeling of the evening.  Anthony Ruptak, another performer from the evening's lineup, volunteered to take on cajon duties for the first few songs after which Ruptak drummer, Anthony Carroll, took his place.  Cajon: it's just a fun word to say (or read, even).  With excellent timing, Ruptak made a great addition to the four Belle's on stage.  An occasional ukelele here and there, and sweet sounds of Courtney Wilson Emily Lewis on the violin (Editor's Note:  Lewis was filling in for a missing Wilson) filled the small Meadowlark bar.


Hearing the difference between the acoustic instruments versus their album version of most of the night's music from Fall Systems Go, I'd have to say that we were witness to a sonically delightful evening that may not be your typical Belle Jar experience.  The album's first track, "Little Red Thread," is buzzy and a bit fast-tempoed on the recorded version, but live and with the cajon keeping a steadier beat, the notes and the vocals stretched and lingered for a moment while the audience soaked it in.  It was like the Meadowlark's basement was a little oak casket, and the Belle Jar's music was pouring into our ears before the aging process began.  The finished product would most likely give hints of relaxed head-bobbing and toe-tapping, and would be most suitably paired with a blanket of lights I think.   James made mention of a new album in the works and possibly out as early as October. "I can't do anything without a deadline," he told the crowd.  So send him a text in the next few months and make sure he's staying on top of it.


Next up was Max Winne, of the Maykit.  You may have noticed that I had posted an interview with Winne earlier this week.  As the small room of the Meadowlark filled, Winne forged ahead with some quieter acoustic jams.  The Maykit is sometimes joined by two additional members, as they were the last time I saw them perform at the Hi-Dive, and tonight was just Winne.  Similarly to a blanket of lights, a blanket of noise was covering the cozy Meadowlark and muffling the sounds of Winne's heart-strings.  It's hard when you struggle both as an audience member and as a performer to try and ignore the conversations, the clanking glasses, the squeals and high-pitched laughter of those in the immediate vicinity that just don't give a damn what you are doing.  Similarly, I imagine that those lucky musicians that go out busking have the same experience.  While there was little banter in between songs, Winne was a champ and played through his set giving little heed to the milieu of distraction in front of him.


Anthony Ruptak came on stage next, accompanied by three bandmates whom he referred to as the band that might be known as the "Midnight Friends."  Ruptak's set list was written on his hand and with a quick introduction he began the evening, immediately grabbing the attention of all the small basement bar's various attendees.  Ruptak's on-stage ensemble were very attentive and didn't miss a beat.  One exuberant female onlooker upped the ante for audience participation by coercing another to occupy the large tract of space in front of the Midnight Friends with some fancy footwork.  From that point on, participatory clapping, dancing and tambourine-playing ensued.  Ruptak's multi-faceted singing prowess was an easy crowd-pleaser, and the cello of Julie Schmidt added to the audible voracity that the Midnight Riders offered that evening.  Ruptak's songs make you want to sing along, like any good folk song should, but also have a timeless quality to them as if someone pulled out the sepia-toned filter on our evening that had already set out with the feeling of being under a blanket of lights.  Should you have a chance to catch Ruptak and friends, I would not suggest missing them; I would suggest dropping whatever other plans you may have and see them play instead.



Serious Moonlight was the evening's final performance and helped set the close the show with a bang.  "This might be our last show",  said singer Alan Andrews jokingly, quickly followed by something about boners.  Six band members filled the stage area, and the room filled accordingly as they began to play alt-country tunes reminiscent of what one might hear from the hey day of Saddle Creek Records.  The trumpet and slide guitar, and sometimes the melodica, all added to a full and rich sound that was intoxicating.  Forty minutes later, the bar was on it's feet and loudly protesting the end of the evening's Serious Moonlight.  The evening had turned cloudy with a small chill in the air, as I made my way homewards; there was no blanket of lights, but it was but a small detail to the perfect evening of local music all-stars at the Meadowlark that Friday night.

When in festivals, don't do as the festival-goer's do.  It can really be a testament of the human spirit if you are able to pace yourself and survive a multi-day festival.  Even the single-day festivals, like the Westword Music Showcase, can take down the most stout-at-heart music lover among us.  There is something about the excitement and the non-stop action that can be intoxicating, and you have to listen to the voice of reason that says, "There is a greater purpose in store for you, my son;  don't lose hope now."  I am possibly making this out to be more than it is, but for me surviving a four-day festival is a journey.  Let me take you on my journey.

The second day of UMS started with a whimper; alas, my ear drums aren't what they used to be.  I was sad to have missed two acts that I was really hoping to catch: the Maykit and Big Freedia.  Slow and steady wins the race, as some might choose to point out; festivals are all about endurance and I was trying a new approach that would hopefully allow me to slowly take in as much music as I could, without "losing" the experience if you will.


The Driftwood Singers were playing at Gary Lee's and were the first band of the evening that I was able to catch on Friday.  I am so glad I was able to catch this couple, a "deja-vu" feeling compared to the duo I had seen the night before during the same timeslot (Shovels & Rope).  A man and a woman dressed impeccably (leather boots and lace for the missus and a sharp vest and straw hat for the mister), upon first glance I thought I was looking at what might be the star actors of a new horror movie.  The two talk innocently enough, but there is something about them, more than just their clothing, that imparts the look of timelessness, just like an old black-and-white photo; it would not surprise me if the two were actually long dead singing ghosts traversing the country for eternity.  Their songs aren't exactly happy ditties, either; once during the night, singer Pearl Charles mentions, "This song is about my parents divorce," and at another point her counterpart Kris Hutson conceded that he liked to write love songs and death songs.  A little creepy, but full of inviting melodies and handsome singing, the Driftwood Singers were a cool act to catch and a great way to kick off Friday night.  I just wouldn't invite them home to crash on my couch or anything.  Just in case.




There were a few bands playing at the same time that my roommate wanted to see, so I followed her north down Broadway and ended up at 3 Kings to catch Hindershot.  By the time we got to the venue they were already a few songs into their set.  Knowing the sets were not terribly long I decided to forego the trip across the street to the Hi-Dive for Maynard with my more adventurous counterparts so I could see what these guys are all about.  I know that the group has been covered for this blog before, but I'd never seen them.  I like that even though the stage was full of band members, I was able to hear every note and every instrument clearly and that nothing was lost in muddled sound.  The songs were catchy and the group attracted quite a crowd.  I was surprised to see a man dancing with a baseball bat, and thought it nothing more than some type of UMS hi-jinx.  As I moved around the crowded stage I began to notice all the candy on the floor and then the remnants of a piñata.  I missed the piñata!  The half-Mexican inside of me felt ashamed that I wasn't aware of the piñata in my proximity, and I would have very much like to have seen it being burst open by the dancing man's baseball bat.


Miss America is a Nathaniel Rateliff project that sounds like a Nathaniel Rateliff project.  He is joined by the same people that make up the core "band" or however you would refer to those near and dear to the singer.  They are good, but I kind of get lost on what is the distinguishing characteristics between Miss America, Nathaniel Rateliff and the Wheel; and so, I'm a horrible Denver resident.  I have gotten the distinct notion that anyone living in this city loves Rateliff, and to not know of his work and enthusiastically support it is akin to being an American and not loving apple pie.  With good reason: the man can sing and his songs are fucking good/kind of intense.  And so, the quaint, auto-mechanic themed joint known as Gary Lee's was filled to the brim with Denver devotees eager to see the man, the myth, the Denver legend known as Nathaniel Rateliff, along with his friends Joseph Pope III, James Han, Julie Davis and Patrick Meese.  Standing room was limited, and wanting to see more action I went outside to the glass garage door to get a good gander at the tinkering and humming of all the unique parts that make up Miss America.



It was time to leave and seek out more music, but the choices were endless and I looked at the Friday night schedule while scratching my head and slowly meandered back into the heart of the UMS commotion.  It was a good thing that there was a kareoke truck parked along the side of the road to distract me while I made up my mind.  I had noticed this contraption the other night, but now that there was someone truly killing it (murdering kareoke, I mean it was dead and gone) on the truck, I remained by the curb, in between 3 Kings and the table of volunteers registering drunk people to vote, to see what this guy had to say.  I was quickly convinced to make a decision, and I chose the more interesting of the band names I saw on the roster and just went with it.


Horse Thief was a really nice surprise.  This band was playing at the 404 Wheel Club, which was one of the most outlying venues of the weekend.  For anyone that happened down that way on this particular night, your trip would have been rewarded with a free beer at a headshop midway between Walgreens and the Wheel Club.  Genius idea, by the way.



This band took their catchy, indie rhythms and added a lot of sweeping, cymbal-crashing, guitar-strumming energy.  There were a decent group of people collecting outside the Wheel Club, and being hypnotized into the stage area because the music was magnetic.  Singer Cameron Neal was completely obscured by hair, yet you could still see his eyes looking hard out into nothing as he paced across the stage and climbed onto amps.  There were no breaks and the band looked to their fearless leader as they continued rush ever onwards like a runaway train, except they were a runaway thief on a stolen horse (perhaps).  There was a lot of commotion going on towards the end of the performance as the alcohol finally started to overpower the soothing loud noise of four guys from Oklahoma.  This was enough for me, as the day had rang it's silent death knell and so concluded the second day of my UMS experience.
The third day began with Gauntlet Hair who were on the mainstage in the parking lot of Goodwill.  Again, I was not out the door as quick as I could have been; but I was ready to make it through the evening.  And the sun was out and we all know that heat and dehydration will get you tuckered out faster than anything else.  Saying my "hello's" and getting lost in the crowded masses, trying to find an open spot of asphalt to park for a few, I overheard Andy R. mention that this was their last show in Denver.  This isn't true, they have a farewell show at Larimer Lounge set for August 25; but the way the remark was so casual and devoid of any emotion made my ears perk immediately.  I know these guys have been in the process of moving to New York for a while, and that's probably going to help propel their career to the lofty heights, and they deserve as much.  It just seems like they're "over it" and the indifferent remark made this all too clear.  Gauntlet Hair is awesome and I will definitely be at their farewell show; I hope those dudes find what they're looking for.

While the time flew by, it was all too suddenly nearing the 9:00 hour, and having little-to-no substantive nourishment that evening it was time to make a choice.  There were food vendors everywhere: the Mexican truck next to the dumpling cart next to the tapas stand; there was barbecue food outside of Gary Lee's and there were delicious sweet potato fries at Sputnik; there was Go Fish and there was the Hornet.  But the time was right for Famous Pizza, the South Broadway staple that seems to emanate the most pizza smells at the drunkest hour.  Grabbing a slice and running to the next performance was so convenient and perfect for any festival-goer's needs.  Easily one of my favorite acts of the weekend; not that I need to justify myself, but let me just add that I was very hungry and I'm a big pizza fan.

Filled with delicious, greasy cheese, it was soon time to go and see the Overcasters at the Hi-Dive.  Undoubtedly the thought of many a UMS-er at the same moment; as me and a few friends approached the mammoth line out from of the venue we quickly ascertained that the Hi-Dive was at-capacity and couldn't allow more people in the door until more people went out the door.  The music started wafting out to the street as I scratched my head and thought about "Plan B."  Better to wander around and get a good spot for The Kissing Party, I decided, and proceeded to slowly meander down the crowded sidewalks which might as well have been "at-capacity," too.  I would recommend always giving yourself time to do nothing at a music festival: that's when you find the cool stuff you may have missed otherwise.


And thusly, while walking by 3 Kings I overheard a song that sounded familiar but I couldn't think of where I had heard it from or what I was listening to: an opportunity was presented.  It turns out what I was listening to was "Cold Feet" by Lost Lander, and I still am not sure where I've heard this song from before but it's good.  These two good-looking kids put on a great show.  Taking folk-pop melodies and adding solid vocals that combined range with harmony, Lost Lander's performance sounded really professionally arranged for just two people.  Well, it turns out that these two are indeed professionals (Portland professionals, to be exact) and their last album was produced by Brent Knopf of Menomena.  I'm glad I randomly caught these guys after being turned away from another venue, it was like instant festival karma.


Their attitude was fun, but their demeanor was serious; dressed in black and sunglasses a la the Kills, Diedre Sage and Gregg Dolan tossed out carnations and tiny tambourines with "the Kissing Party" scribbled on them.  There was dancing, and there was a cheerleader; I'm pretty sure I saw this same cheerleader at Ben Kweller's Bluebird show back in May.  The lights were dimmed and the crowded bar room of the Skylark Lounge became the shaking dance floor any UMS band would have dreamed of.



And the night wore on, as the small cadre I had around me found ourselves at Compound Basix to see Class Actress perform at 11:00 PM.  This venue is located on the corner of 2nd Avenue and South Broadway on the small strip where you can find a gay bar or two, and conveniently pick up your ball-gag leather mask and a bottle for the after party.  While I am not a stranger to the male revue a few doors down, I had never been to Compound Basix.  My first impression was not a good one; the bar was packed, the girls room was an impenetrable fortress and there was no hopes of hydration.  The main room has a fancy fluorescent tube-light display that reminded me of neon peacock feathers, and had it not been for the immense crowd and low lights I would have been able to notice the large expanse and second bar area that could have made for a more pleasant evening.


Feeling a little bewildered, I slinked to the front of the room where I ran into Peter who was running around SoBro all weekend getting some choice footage of the festival events.  The film crew were literally everywhere at once, I caught glimpses of them here and there but it was almost as if I was seeing their Back-to-the-Future personas because it was physically impossible that they were able to cover the ground they did.  Class Actress is one keyboard/sound-effects dude and the beautiful Elizabeth Harper; as happened many times during the weekend, the crowd vehemently objected to their set being cut short by the pre-set timeslots.  The electro-pop jams were perfect in Compound Basix.  Sure, no one could move but we couldn't help to try and dance along, it was impossible not to.

After mistakenly traveling to Delite in hopes of seeing Total Ghost but I got the times wrong and Atomic Mama was full-swing into their set.  Given the option to hang around the open garage door which was attracting quite the crowd, I decided that the 7-hour stretch of music and festival what-have-you's had worn on me enough that a Total Ghost performance just wasn't in the cards.  Good thing that those two dudes will most likely be around playing another show soon; they are my favorite fake German synth duo in the Denver Metro Area.

The final day of UMS started with a bang at the ripe old hour of 7:00 PM; so much music in so little time can really take it out of a girl.   The final day of the festival was scheduled to be end things with a bang as main headliner Atlas Sound, as well as Denver favorites Paper Bird and Nathaniel Rateliff, but the real bang came from the on-again-off-again lightening threatening to halt all main stage activity.  A light shower sprinkled over the South Broadway area in the early in the day, making for an atypical sticky afternoon.  Things had cooled off nicely as the wind and clouds rolled in that evening.  There were small families gathering in the credit union parking lot outside of the fenced off area of the main stage, most likely coming from the surrounding Baker neighborhood.


Pacific Pride was playing at Compound Basix, and I was looking forward to seeing them play ever since I ran into the Rob, my old roommate, and Trevor, my old coworker, outside of Lost Lake when they were setting up for a gig.  I didn't get to catch them that night, so I figured this was a great opportunity.  Getting to see Compound Basix in the light of day after my somewhat dispirited episode the night before was unexpectedly refreshing.   I came to find out how accommodating that large area inside was now that it wasn't pitch black, and with a small back patio to boot this place was a great venue for shows.  I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot, Compound Basix; I take back everything I said before, it wasn't your fault.  Pacific Pride was fun; girls were dancing, boys were dancing and a blow-up Goldfish was being passed around.


Paper Bird is like Denver's singing telegram or the singing introductory credits to any movie that would feature and star Denver, Colorado.   It was very fitting to have them play back-to-back with Rateliff, whom all could easily qualify as Denver rock royalty.  It was fun to see them play, and hear Sarah Anderson slightly modify "Colorado" with what I think was a Cookie Monster impression; I'm just guessing by the reaction of all the kids running around by the credit union fence.  Speaking of which, it's so entertaining to see little kids get excited about music; they are the masters of "dance like no one is watching."  And let me tell you, little children love the shit out of some Paper Bird.

Before Rateliff and crew made their appearance, I thought I'd go check out some of The Morning Clouds set over at the Hi-Dive.  I hadn't gotten a chance to see a performance at the Hi-Dive all weekend, so why not.  Not knowing much about the band, they started off well enough with poppy tunes and melodic male vocals.  But then things just started going downhill; there was possibly 20-odd people watching the music, but there was nowhere to stand without being in the way.  Tables and chairs were being moved about from merch areas, the previous band was loading their equipment in their van out front, and then a film crew snaked through the crowd of which one hanger on turned to me and said,"Excuse me, we're shooting a TV show here."  It was fairly preposterous (what TV show?) and too distracting; sorry Morning Clouds, maybe next time.

Myself and a few folks heard that Nathaniel Rateliff's set had been temporarily postponed due to lightning, so we mosied across the street for some Science Partner.  I love that group, and have the fondest memories of accidentally hearing them for the first time when I showed up at the Larimer Lounge for what I thought was a show but turned out to be a private birthday party.  And they open-armed invited me to this birthday party without so much as asking what my name was; that was cool.  So Science Partner will always remind me of crashing birthday parties.  They played to a packed house, and as we stood outside watching through the open garage door, we were joined by a few intoxicated individuals which may or may not have been traveling hobos.  Missing teeth, missing shoes, barely able to speak coherently; maybe they were just hardcore UMS-ers and had been sleeping in the Goodwill lot through the weekend.  The door guy came over to the rowdy bunch a few times to ask them to stop touching the drummer, but for the most part these guys made air guitar and head-banging gestures in a harmless fashion that only enhanced the auditory experience for us sidewalk watchers.



Standing outside, I ran into my old friend Kody who happened to be playing in a band called Hills and Hollows scheduled to play after Science Partner; wanting to catch part of Nathaniel Rateliff, I decided to wander back across the street to see what was afoot.  Even though Nathaniel Rateliff's set was postponed by lightening, the band wrapped up at the same time they were scheduled to which meant that they played for twenty minutes.  I guess the Denver Post was on a tight schedule; or on they were like me and kind of feeling festivaled out, so didn't feel the need to prolong things more than necessary. I barely had enough time to stand in the bathroom line and be privy to a drunken debate between four men in blonde wigs about government responsibility and STD's before Rateliff and crew said, "Goodnight!"  Back to Delite we went to catch the five-piece Hills and Hollows, and this weird bunny dude with the Vitamin Water.  The band was good; honestly, by this point my hearing had kind of made everything sound like beans in a tin can, so I think they probably sounded better than what I could hear.  The group did put on a good show for being one of the last performers of the weekend, and were competing with the same timeslot as Atlas Sound.

Atlas Sound was the lullaby that put the baby to sleep.  This baby, right here.  Singer Bradford Cox exclaimed that he had much more than forty minutes in him, and would play for the rest of the night if anyone had an attic they wanted to invite him to.  I wordlessly invited him to the attic of my mind as I drifted off into a sweet sleep that night, dreaming about all the great UMS music I was able to hear before my journey was over.

Bug bites, bruised shins, hair sticking to the back of your neck and wishing for a cool dip in any body of water that’s available but you’ll settle for a cold drink until then; that was my memories of summer break as a kid, and it’s funny that I get to relive those same experiences in small doses as a grown adult. Summer is for music festivals. Music festivals are for memories. Summer, music and memories is a delicious combination for the young at heart or adventurous in spirit. The summer in Denver is typically mild compared to the hot, humid weather you might get in the Midwest and Southwestern regions neighboring Colorado. The rains are short and sparse and the nights cool down by 10,  sometimes 20 degrees. And so, while every music festival can boast about what makes theirs so special, the magic that comes with a cool Denver night is not to be missed. And neither is UMS, which is Denver’s best kept secret. But why? Why don’t people come out to South Broadway and listen to the dozens upon dozens of excellent local and non-local acts that the Denver Post brings into town (twelve years running now), and come see the excellent comedy shows, and check out the niche dive bars and . . . be alive. The cost is a pittance for what you receive in return: Memories.



Shovels & Rope is a good time condensed into two small people with two big voices. Sincerely: wow. I mean they attracted a small mob within minutes of their set beginning and were in step with representing their upcoming album titled O, Be Joyful; the pair were all smiles and warmly engaged the crowd in between songs.  Cary Ann Hearst has an amazing voice, as does Michael Trent, but the pair do not audibly duke it out on stage in battle to win the hearts of the crowd like you might expect from two people who used to be their own lead singers in separate bands.  Hearst would mosey on over to the drum kit while Trent belted out a tune, and then they effortlessly switched places as Trent strapped on his harmonica while Hearst's voice rang loudly throughout Gary Lee's Motor Club.  My favorite part of the act was when I went outside the glass garage door to take a picture of the two with the audience in the background, and a photographer asked if he could take a picture of me taking a picture.  So meta!




Next up that evening was the 3 Kings Tavern and Mrs. Magician, whom I had seen a few months back with the Cults.  Flying in from San Diego, CA, this relatively new group attracted quite a following in the roomy interior of 3 Kings and their loud, surf-rock inspired songs about the absence of God ("There is No God"), the metaphorical existence of Heaven ("Heaven") and the space in between.  Singer Jacob Turnbloom's Hawaiian shirt was an excellent pairing to the band's tunes, and has inspired me to reconsider the "cool" Hawaiian shirt idea (they could be cool!).  The misters of Mrs. Magician played a forty-five minute set even got the burly, bearded man beside me dancing.  It's hard not to dance along to songs with pop-py refrains of "Fuck the world / fuck the kids" and Dick Dale-esque guitar riffs.




There was a stellar lineup at 3 Kings so I stayed put for three hours, and after Mrs. Magician was the great local treasure known as Bad Weather California.  I've seen these dudes play a few times, and they never disappoint.  The used every last minute of time available to them, and as the audience grew in size the Bad Weather guys responded with equal enthusiasm and energy.


It was very interesting to see the change in climate as Chris Adolf's chants of "Bad Weather California is street level music" at the end of their set segued into Dylan Baldi's refrain of "I need time to stay useless" with the Cloud Nothing's first song.  The audience went from almost ballroom dancing to mosh dancing in zero to sixty.  I was left holding my bruised shins and guarding my camera against flying beer as the Cloud Nothings proceeded to make all of us bleed from our ears and melt into puddles in the sweatbox that was 3 Kings.  So far, that has been my favorite experience of the UMS; but it has been only the first night of four.