We pulled into Denver on a steaming Colorado afternoon (the car said it was 103 degrees outside), and met my good friend Caroline and a few of her amigos in Washington Park for a tasty picnic meal of black bean burgers, chunky corn salsa, fresh fruit, and pasta salad. The park was bustling with volleyball players, frisbee tossers, and Joaquin Phoenix lookalikes, and it was easy to see why it was so packed (HINT: parks in Illinois do not have a sprawling mountain range in the distance).
Later that night, Caroline took us to see some 4th of July fireworks. We researched some of the different locations around the city, and we ruled out a number of them quickly. For example, one ad claimed that a certain town had "the best and safest fireworks display in Denver." We could embrace the former attribute, but certainly not the latter. After much deliberation, we ended up heading to Tricia's birthplace, Englewood, and we knew immediately that it was the right place. After some walking around, we spotted the fireworks trailer on a baseball field a mere 50 yards away, and scooted right up to an orange fence adjacent to the entry road where fire trucks were filing in. A wide-eyed boy scout with a fluorescent vest was supposed to be keeping the general public from crossing the boundary, but he allowed several people by with only a mumbled protest a la Milton from Office Space.
After they cut the park lights, the audience cheered, and what followed was one of the best fireworks displays I've seen since local park districts started cutting their budgets for holiday explosives. The grand finale was a bombastic series of red, white, and blue blasts followed by what can only be described as over-stimulation. As the crowd convulsed collectively, I thought I witnessed a giant screaming eagle soaring through the sky unscathed. And then there was black, accompanied by the hum of several strangers becoming accustomed to tinnitus.
The next morning, we visited Red Rocks. (Unfortunately, it wasn't to play live for thousands of people). It was cool to see an amphitheater built so seamlessly into such a gorgeous natural landscape, but it was tarnished a bit by muscular men and women performing excessive feats of strength and endurance.
After Red Rocks, Caroline showed us around Denver's lower downtown area, where we ate some absolutely delicious Ameri-Mexican food at Illegal Pete's, browsed around Tattered Cover (Denver's oldest bookstore), and went on a brewery tour at Great Divide. Unfortunately, the tour didn't include free samples.
Later that evening, Tricia and I loaded into the Walnut Room and met the other musicians. We kicked off the evening and were fortunate enough to have a great turnout and a very attentive audience. It was a real treat to have friends and family in the audience so far away from home.
Kate Moreland, accompanied by a jazzy guitarist named Kevin (who happened to book talent at a local jazz club), played third. She was an energetic performer with a penchant for playful songwriting -- needless to say, her set was a lot of fun to watch.
Caleb Slade was next. We'd heard through the grapevine that his brother is Isaac Slade, the front man of The Fray (known for the hospital TV show staple "How to Save a Life"), and it just so happens that he used to be a member of the band before they hit big. (If you want to read an article on that whole story, here it is: http://www.westword.com/2011-01-27/music/caleb-slade-isaac-slade-the-fray/2/.) Anyway, Caleb played a variety of piano ballads and was joined by a particularly good drummer named Tim Husmann. It was supposedly their first time performing together in public, which is amazing, given how they sounded.
Sarah Slaton ended the evening with a solo acoustic set sandwiched between two strings of collaborations with friends. She was releasing an EP, so it was her night; even though the crowd had dwindled a bit, a good-sized group of her friends/fans pushed up toward the stage, and she interacted with them a great deal throughout her set. The night culminated with a "supergroup" rendition of "Hey Jude," featuring all the musicians who had performed and then some, along with Tricia on the tambourine and me on the shaker. (Before you laugh, auxiliary percussion is an important role.) You can probably find the video somewhere on YouTube.
To close out the post, I should also mention two other things:
- The sound man, Will, was excellent. We talked with him for quite a while after the show and exchanged some music recommendations. He told us we should definitely come back, which is always nice to hear.
- Anson Krekeler, a musician we met at one of Tricia's shows in Chicago a couple months ago, came to the show, which was a neat surprise. He blogged some very kind things about us and the other performers here: http://orangecoastline.wordpress.com/2011/07/08/tuesday-night-at-the-walnut-room/
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