Just got back from our trip to Taos, New Mexico via Denver, Colorado. I don’t have a lot to report on the Taos music scene. The lovely wedding we attended featured a fine acoustic-based band playing covers of Sufjan Stevens and his ilk. They were just right for the event, but they were no threat to the sage brush. I also saw a young hippie woman sitting atop the roof of a hostel, accompanying her rich voice with a mandolin. She had an excellent voice, but her act was an anachronism.
Sadly, my dream of a home base for the Peace Warriors movement may not take root in the otherwise FANTASTIC state of New Mexico. The multitude of transplants are so peaceful, healthy, hippified, and well heeled that I can’t see them shaking things up to the music of Eric Burdon & The New Animals, but that’s cool. We got to spend some time in the southwest of Colorado, in real cowboy towns like Alamosa, San Luis, and Fort Carson. The terrain in this part of the country is ideal for the movement. I think the locals have it in them to raise some hell, if necessary, for the sake of peace. They’re more likely to grasp the cold, hard facts of Fogerty Syndrome.
We spent our last days of vacation in Colorado Springs and Manitou Springs, Colorado, decompressing and preparing for our flight out of Denver this morning. On the short drive from the car rental company to the terminal we found ourselves surrounded by middle aged families, including young teenage kids, decked out in Rush concert shirts. The people around us were all talking about “last night’s show” at Red Rocks. I said to one of the men next to me, “So it’s not a coincidence that 10 of you are wearing Rush concert shirts? Did you fly into Denver for this show?” Sure enough they had! There were two families from Corpus Christi, Texas. There were a handful of middle-aged guys from Toronto! They’d all seen the band countless times and were enthusiastically comparing versions of “Working Man” and other song titles I at least had some familiarity with.
As this went on my wife kept kicking me, trying to get me to look at her so we’d enjoy holding in a laugh. I had to look away; it was too funny to listen – YET it was cool to think that 10 people (and who knows how many more) had flown into Denver just to see Rush play at Red Rocks. (They all agreed that this was one of their best shows, by the way, but one of the teenage boys expressed disappointment at “Neil’s new drum solo.” From what I gathered it was now too short.) Love Rush or leave ’em, I wish I had it in me to hop on a plane to see a concert by a band I’d already seen a dozen times before! I’ve driven to New York and Boston, for instance, but would I ever take a plane to see a band?
How about you? Have you even taken a plane to another town specifically to see a band?