Monday, September 30, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Help Find Chris Daniels' Guitar!
"Hey All, on the way home from playing a benefit at Williams and Colfax the back of the truck came open (didn't know it) and my Taylor acoustic and the blue mic box fell out. If anybody happens to have found a blue mic box and a Taylor drednaught acoustic/electric with an indain beaded strap in the green felt line case, -- would have been found on Colfax to Grant Grant to logan and then to Radclif in Englewood - please get in touch with Chris Daniels asap, thanks thanks cwd444@aol.com. Big hugs CD"
Please return the guitar if you found it, it's a lot like losing a child!!
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Colfax History: Original Downtown Aurora
Friday, September 27, 2013
Park House Tavern Celebrates One Year Anniversary
Park House, the “classy yet quirky”
neighborhood tavern and live music hotspot on the corner of Colfax and
Madison, will celebrate its one year anniversary this month by throwing a
Parking Lot Party on Saturday, September 28th starting at 1pm. Park
House and Listen Up Denver! have fused their creative party-centric minds with the beer-slingers over at Breckenridge Brewery who will be taking over the taps with their classic drafts and special releases during a weekend-long tap takeover.
The Saturday Parking Lot Party will feature live music by Trout Steak Revival, Springdale Quartet, Vine Street Vibes, and other special guests yet to be announced. Ticket prices are $5.00 in advance and $7 at the door.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Smoky Hill Trail
 |
| Statue marking the end of the Smoky Hill Trail |
In 1858, gold was discovered in the Kansas Territory east of the
Rocky Mountains (now Colorado), and when the news reached the Kansas
City area, a trail was needed to travel across the plains. What was once
an old Indian trail that ran along the Smoky Hill River became the most
direct route to the gold fields in 1859, and it was named the Smoky
Hill Trail. There were cutoff routes to Denver from both the Oregon and
the Santa Fe Trails, but the Smoky Hill Trail was the most traveled; it
was also the most dangerous of the three trails because of the
possibility of Indian attacks and the scarcity of water.
Emigrants using the trail outfitted in Leavenworth, Kansas City,
Abilene or Salina and followed the Smoky Hill River to southwest
Colorado near Old Cheyenne Wells where the headwaters of the Smoky Hill
began. From there, the Smoky Hill trail divided into two trails, a north
and a south trail, both of which went to Hugo and then to Lake (just
south of Limon). At this point the North Trail continued on a route
similar to present day Interstate 70 / U.S. 40 coming into Denver from
the east; the South Trail went to more of a western route to present day
Kiowa and then northwest to Denver. It is not hard to imagine how
desolate this area was at that time. If you have ever taken the Kiowa
road to Denver from Limon, you will know that, even today,
there is not much of anything out there for miles and miles.
A third section of the trail, called the Middle Smoky Hill Trail,
went west from Lake, then turned northwest to Denver where it met the
South Smoky Hill Trail. This portion of the trail became known as the
“Starvation Trail” because of the gruesome story of the Blue Brothers
who resorted to cannibalism in 1859. Daniel Blue’s survival story was
written by Henry Villard, a newspaper correspondent who joined in the
Pike’s Peak Gold Rush in 1859, which appeared in the Cincinnati “Daily
Commercial” on June 3.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Last Week of Civic Center EATS
This is the last week of Civic Center EATS 2013! Join the Civic Center Conservancy for lunch and live music in Denver's Civic Center Park this Tuesday and Thursday (11a-2p) to get your fall food truck fix. Photo by Evan Semón Photography
Monday, September 23, 2013
Robert Boswell at Tattered Cover
http://
Sunday, September 22, 2013
The Smell of Jesus
Excerpt from Raw Edges: A Memoir, by Phyllis Barber (Reno: University of Nevada
Press, 2010)
“I smell
Jesus on you, honey,” the stranger said to me. He sat across from Spinner and
me in the padded vinyl booth at Roslyn’s, a bar on East Colfax where Spinner
invited me to hang out for the evening. He’d moved into my place the summer
before when he’d needed help with his daughter. He’d stayed.
“Come again?”
I asked the man with three missing teeth and three hoops in his left ear. Four
minutes ago, he’d slid into our booth, uninvited, with a glass of something
that looked like whiskey in one hand. “Do you mind?” he said, then sat quietly
sipping his drink until those words popped out of him.
The music was too loud, there were too
many Christmas lights that felt phoney, too many bikers and too much snow
outside the massive front window.
“I smell Jesus on you,” the man said
again, louder this time, then rested his forearms on the formica.
“What’s with the Jesus stuff?” Spinner
spoke loudly into my ear, and even then he was hard to hear.
“Did he say what I think he said?” I
shouted back over a heavy metal strain of ‘White Christmas.’ Spinner shrugged
his shoulders.
I played with the clipbacks of my star
earrings, the ones I always wore at Christmastime, the ones I wore when David
and I used to have our neighborhood Christmas parties. I unclipped the
rhinestone star to rub my too-long-pinched ear lobe and felt a point of the
star sharp against my palm. These were the earrings I’d worn to accompany my
son Jeremy when he played Bach and Vivaldi on his violin. The same ones I’d
worn when I played piano at the Heather Restaurant near the mouth of Little
Cottonwood Canyon in Salt Lake City where bagpipers piped on Friday nights. I
thought of the white satin blouse with the string of rhinestones on the collar
and cuffs. The crepe tuxedo I’d worn for those occasions another lifetime ago.
The stranger sipped his drink and rocked
his head to the beat of the music. I scoped the big window where winter raged
against the glass. I looked back at the man who held his glass up against the
light and squinted at the remains.
I wanted to make a joke and say that
Jesus was a fisherman and did I smell like a fish, but then Spinner wouldn’t
laugh. He didn’t understand my sense of humor.
The man set his drink on the table, then
thumped his thumb to the last of the “White Christmas” beat. “He comes like a
thief in the night,” he said in the space between songs.
I unclipped
the other earring and propped my head on Spinner’s shoulder. I felt tired,
weary, hanging out in this foreign territory just before Christmas, the season
of the year when I should be nestled in bed with a good man and my children
safe asleep in the next room. But I was doing time for thinking I knew things,
for thinking I knew what it meant to be “in the world but not of it.”
Spinner twirled his glass.
Spinner, I
thought. The beat up bad boy dressed in a Harley-Davidson Reunion T-shirt. He’d
probably brought me to the bar tonight to find a connection. With my empty ring
finger, I felt the sticky edges of an old strip of duct tape on the vinyl seat.
As the
beginnings of a quieter “Silent Night” bled through the speakers, the stranger
stretched his arms toward me. “I’ve lost my feeling. Give me some.”
Spinner
pulled away from my head on his shoulder and slid back into the corner of the
booth to watch.
I smiled at
the stranger with my smile that fit around whatever came along and ignored his
outstretched arms. I reached for Spinner’s hand instead, squeezing his fingers,
but his hand limped out on me as if it were a dead trout. I gave it back and
clipped the stars onto my ears again, trying to keep myself busy, trying not to
think of my other life in the beautiful home David and I had remodeled twice—the
big step-down room with its panoramic views of Mt. Olympus, our grand piano
with its brass candelabra where I’d accompanied scores of musicians as well as
our sons. There were so many dreams in those refinished wooden floors, the
leaded glass windows and the over-sized dark blue Persian rug.
“People call
me Rev,” the man with mustard and brown eyes said from across the table. His
faded blue baseball cap didn’t hide the wrinkles in his forehead and the loose,
sagging skin around his eyes.
“So, if you’re a Rev,” I said, “give us a
sermon. We could use a good sermon.”
“Pull yourself
together,” Spinner whispered. He was an elemental man easily embarrassed by
public display. “Why did I buy you a beer? You’re the cheapest drunk I ever
met.”
“Here is the church and here is the
steeple.” I played the children’s game my mother had taught me: interlocked
hands, raised index fingers for a steeple. “Here’s a church for you,” I said,
holding my hands out playfully to the man who was dusky above the collar of his
black T-shirt and striped vest with a torn lapel.
The Rev’s eyes
put a hole in me first, then Spinner. “What’s with you two?” he asked, his
hands pointing to each of us at the same time.
I looked over
at Spinner and his ever-present cigarette. My shoulder muscles stiffened. His
skin seemed colorless in the strange light of the bar. Surrounded by a cloud of
smoke, he re-positioned himself in the sticky red booth.
“This woman,”
the Rev said solemnly, pointing his slightly crooked finger at me, “is love,
Man.” His gaze zeroed in on me, one eye squinted, his chin on his wrists on the
table.
The inside of
my head spun with the effects of the beer I wasn’t used to drinking. The sound
of the clashing glasses and the throbbing bass beat jangled my head, made it
slide like a trombone. This wasn’t my home or my place or my shore.
“You’ve got a
fan,” Spinner said, exercising his hands on the formica.
“I’ll take what I can get.” I laughed,
then reached over to pat Spinner’s cheek.
“Don’t,” he
snapped, twisting away. I could feel the way his face wasn’t there, that it was
gone all of a sudden. The face I thought I loved. I looked out the window
again, suddenly hoping someone was watching, maybe even Jesus since we were on
the subject. He might be out in the cold tonight, looking for his lost sheep,
waiting to take us all back to the other ninety and nine safe in the pen. Maybe
he was standing out there on the curb, his arms stretched out, his eyes beaming
with the holy light of I love you/the stars love you/all the Universe loves
you.
The stranger,
a crabbed-up old man in eight-day-old clothes, sat across the table staring.
His eyes seemed the kind that could see under every layer of a person’s
clothing and all the layers of their skin. Maybe he recognized something I’d
lost. Maybe, even though I was dressed in Levis and a turtleneck and had buried
my graying hair under a champagne dye that did no justice to my skin tones, he
could really see me.
“You glow,”
Preacher said as the bossa nova ‘Silent Night’ played on and he took another
sip of his drink.
I wanted to
say ‘like a round yon virgin?’, but didn’t. I smiled to myself at the improbable
thought. I’d been a virgin once. David and I’d both been virgins when we
married.
“This guy’s
something else,”Spinner said, itching the corner of his square jawbone with two
fingers and tapping ashes into the sandbag-bottomed ashtray.
The “Silent
Night” tempo cranked into a turbo beat.
“Dance with me, Spinner,” I said, knowing
he’d shake his head no. I wanted to capture Christmas somehow, to feel it
inside and out. I wanted to sing “Holy infant, so tender and mild” like I had for
so many Decembers.
The stranger
slid his hand across the table. “Put your hand in the hand, woman.”
I closed my eyes where water was gathering
and bent over to wipe my eyes with the ribbing of my sweatshirt. Nobody knew
what they were doing when they were drunk. I hated drunk and how nobody was
there for anybody else when they were.
“I need to go home,” I said.
“Don’t do your disappearing act,” Spinner
said.
“Love is everything,” I said. “Right, Rev?”
The man suddenly became mute, like a
neo-sphinx swaying his head subtly from side to side.
After a community roar at the bar—the
favored Denver Broncos rallying in the fourth quarter—I turned to Spinner. I
leaned in close to keep things between us. “Do you really love me?” I asked in
an as-private-as-could-be whisper.
He leaned to the left to frisk his jacket
for another cigarette, leaving me with lots of air around myself. All the time
the stranger, even though he couldn’t hear us, watched our every move as he
sipped his whiskey.
“Love is a
suffering thing,” the man finally said. Then he sat still, as if listening for
inspiration from the PA system. “Would you like to dance with me?” he asked,
making moves to slide out of the booth.
I was speechless.
“Dance with him,” Spinner said. “You were
just saying you wanted to dance.”
The Rev bowed at the end of the table, one
hand flat against his ribs, the other at his back. “May I have this dance?”
“Why not?” I finally decided.
He was six inches shorter, about five foot
three. His body seemed scrawled carelessly together like illegible handwriting,
a curling spine holding a frail skeleton in place. I didn’t care, though my
breasts seemed too close to his nose as I stood up and faced him.
He led me to the postage-stamp dance floor
as Elvis sang “Blue Christmas.” Miniature lights chased each other around the
window. That man put his hand on my back. We assumed the traditional slow dance
position. A pre-fab Santa’s boot stood on the bar, the patchy velour on the toe
rubbed white. A few random candy canes wrapped in cellophane, most of them
broken at the crook, were stuffed into the boot.
When he laid his head close to my neck, I
didn’t object. Maybe because it was Christmas and maybe because I didn’t care
about much anymore.
“You’ve got Jesus in every pore, woman,”
he said, his ear pressed flat against my collar bone.
We shuffled across the floor as if there
were no one else in the room. Next to him I felt especially large and
especially small at the moment, a raw-boned woman standing a head over the Rev,
bigger and broader than he was, and yet....
“You can’t change anybody. Look what they
did to Jesus.”
“But I love the man,” I said. Then I felt
even smaller, not unlike a bottle tossed against a curb that wouldn’t break and
kept on rolling.
The stranger put his hand on the boney
part of my chest—a firm palm against the tops of letters stenciled on my
sweatshirt. I didn’t flinch because this moment felt right. I felt his life
surge into mine. I put my hand on top of his and bowed my forehead against the
top of his baseball cap. The song ended. It left a sudden space of quiet in the
room, a sparse little comma of calm.
He escorted me
back to the booth where Spinner sat against the corner with his jacket buttoned
and his arms folded. “Adios, my friends,” the man said as he helped me into the
booth and pecked a kiss on my cheek. Then he walked to the bar, held up his
finger to order another drink and squeezed his misshapen body onto a stool. As
he bent over the bar, a large gap between his T-shirt and pants appeared. The
laundry-grayed elastic of his underwear stretched across the dark skin of his
lower back.
“Welcome back,” Spinner said, crushing his
cigarette into the already full ash tray. “Did you dance your feet off?”
“Right up to the ankles.”
“He was sure cutting in close. Is that a
good idea to let a stranger get that familiar?”
“It’s Christmas,” I said.
“Don’t they all want the same thing?” he
said.
“Does that include you?”
He twisted the ashtray with his thumb. “So
what are you trying to say?”
“Please take me home. The storm’s over.” I
looked outside. Everything was white and still. Enough snow to make the world
seem soft.
He picked up the ash tray, then let it
fall back to the table, a solid thunk of
deadweight sand on formica.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Legend of Sleepy Hollow coming to Aurora Fox
The Aurora
Fox presents The Regional Premiere of
Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
adapted by Christopher Cook
Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
adapted by Christopher Cook
Aurora, CO – The Regional Premiere of Washington Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy
Hollow by Christopher Cook (directed by Charles Packard) opens
October 4 and runs through November 3,
2013 at The Aurora Fox Arts Center (9900 East Colfax Avenue). Tickets are $26 for adults and $22 for seniors and students. For
tickets and/or group rates call: 303-739-1970 or visit: www.AuroraFox.org
About the show: When bumbling schoolmaster
Ichabod Crane (Liam Speros) arrives in the peaceful little hamlet of Sleepy
Hollow, he is greeted with cautionary tales of ghosts and goblins, a favorite
being that of a beheaded Revolutionary War soldier who still rides at night in
search of his head. Crane, being the superstitious type, believes every word.
In no time, Ichabod settles into his role as teacher, disciplinarian, choir leader, and rotating houseguest. It doesn’t take long for him to develop a crush on Katrina Van Tassel (Heather Taylor), the lovely daughter of the town’s wealthiest family. But Katrina already has a suitor, Abraham “Brom Bones” Van Brunt (Michael Travis Risner), notorious for his boisterous personality, love of pranks, and great skill at wielding a sword. Tensions rise as the romantic rivalry brews, culminating in a terrifying midnight ride and the mysterious disappearance of Ichabod Crane.
With a host of characters as colorful as they are authentic, and the tapestry of Washington Irving’s original words painted in rich images, suspense abounds in this tale of dark humor and gothic horror.
In no time, Ichabod settles into his role as teacher, disciplinarian, choir leader, and rotating houseguest. It doesn’t take long for him to develop a crush on Katrina Van Tassel (Heather Taylor), the lovely daughter of the town’s wealthiest family. But Katrina already has a suitor, Abraham “Brom Bones” Van Brunt (Michael Travis Risner), notorious for his boisterous personality, love of pranks, and great skill at wielding a sword. Tensions rise as the romantic rivalry brews, culminating in a terrifying midnight ride and the mysterious disappearance of Ichabod Crane.
With a host of characters as colorful as they are authentic, and the tapestry of Washington Irving’s original words painted in rich images, suspense abounds in this tale of dark humor and gothic horror.
PRODUCTION STAFF –
Stage management by Lindsay Sullivan, Set Design by Jen Orf, Lighting
Design by Shannon McKinney, Costumes by Sharon McClaury and Sound Design by El
Armstrong.
PRODUCTION DATES –
Fridays October 4, 11, 18, 25, November 1 at 7:30pm
Saturdays October 5, 12, 19, 26, November 2 at 7:30pm
*Saturdays October 12, 19, 26 and November 2 at 2:00pm
*Sundays October 13, 20, 27, November 3 at 2:00pm
PRODUCTION DATES –
Fridays October 4, 11, 18, 25, November 1 at 7:30pm
Saturdays October 5, 12, 19, 26, November 2 at 7:30pm
*Saturdays October 12, 19, 26 and November 2 at 2:00pm
*Sundays October 13, 20, 27, November 3 at 2:00pm
* Matinee
performances will be less graphic (more suitable for younger kids) than evening
performances.
SPECIAL EVENTS –
Pay-What-You-Can Preview - Thursday, October 3rd at 7:30 pm
Opening Night After Party - Friday, October 4th
Super Senior Sunday - Sunday, October 13th at 2:00 pm (Senior tickets are just $18. Free hot beverages).
Costume Contest – Saturday, October 26th (Come in costume to either the matinee or evening performance
and compete for prizes)!
Pay-What-You-Can Preview - Thursday, October 3rd at 7:30 pm
Opening Night After Party - Friday, October 4th
Super Senior Sunday - Sunday, October 13th at 2:00 pm (Senior tickets are just $18. Free hot beverages).
Costume Contest – Saturday, October 26th (Come in costume to either the matinee or evening performance
and compete for prizes)!
Friday, September 20, 2013
Soul Spooktacular coming to The Fillmore Auditorium
Halloween Night 2013
KARL DENSON’S TINY UNIVERSE
w/ Zach Deputy, The Cosmic Horns and more TBA
Fillmore Auditorium
Thursday, October 31
LIMITED ADVANCE TICKETS ARE JUST $20.00
Live Nation is pleased to present ‘Soul Spooktacular’ – Halloween Night 2013 featuring KARL DENSON’S TINY UNIVERSE at The Fillmore Auditorium on Thursday, October 31. Special guests Zach Deputy, The Cosmic Horns and more TBA will open the show. Show time is 8:00 PM. Doors open at 7:00 PM
Karl
Denson has led a storied career as a multi-faceted recording and
performing artist who first came to prominence as a member of Lenny
Kravitz’ band debuting on his first release, Let Love Rule, and staying
on for the next five years. While developing a following overseas, he
joined Fred Wesley’s band, touring and recording with him on multiple
releases. This led to five straight ahead jazz albums by Denson on Minor
Music, the last of which was released to rave reviews and featured Karl
in a trio setting with Miles Davis alumni Dave Holland and Jack
DeJohnette. In 1993, Denson joined DJ Greyboy in creating Greyboy
Records and released the legendary acid jazz staple, Freestylin. Out of
that collaboration, Denson formed The Greyboy Allstars, which became
world renowned as the ultimate groove band, spreading their “West Coast
Boogaloo” style worldwide.
Denson took this formula to the next level by putting more emphasis on vocals and adding some funk, R&B and hip hop elements. It turned out to be a winning combination, which set KDTU on the top of the heap in the touring world and selling over 250,000 records to date. “My style is based in dance” shares Denson. “I love the idea of creating something that naturally makes people want to move.” KDTU has headlined and performed at US Festivals including Bonnaroo, Bumbershoot, The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, All Good Music Festival, Wakarusa Music Festival, Playboy Jazz Festival, Monterey Jazz Festival, Newport Jazz Festival and many more. Global festival appearances include the Fuji Rock Festival in Japan, North Sea Jazz festival in Holland, Moscow Jazz Festival in Russia, East Coast Blues and Roots Festival in Australia and the Montreux Jazz festival in Switzerland. Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe has shared the stage with acts as diverse as Jack Johnson, D’Angelo, James Brown, Dave Matthews Band, Michael Franti & Spearhead, The Allman Brothers, Keene and Maroon 5.
Denson took this formula to the next level by putting more emphasis on vocals and adding some funk, R&B and hip hop elements. It turned out to be a winning combination, which set KDTU on the top of the heap in the touring world and selling over 250,000 records to date. “My style is based in dance” shares Denson. “I love the idea of creating something that naturally makes people want to move.” KDTU has headlined and performed at US Festivals including Bonnaroo, Bumbershoot, The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, All Good Music Festival, Wakarusa Music Festival, Playboy Jazz Festival, Monterey Jazz Festival, Newport Jazz Festival and many more. Global festival appearances include the Fuji Rock Festival in Japan, North Sea Jazz festival in Holland, Moscow Jazz Festival in Russia, East Coast Blues and Roots Festival in Australia and the Montreux Jazz festival in Switzerland. Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe has shared the stage with acts as diverse as Jack Johnson, D’Angelo, James Brown, Dave Matthews Band, Michael Franti & Spearhead, The Allman Brothers, Keene and Maroon 5.
Denson’s
latest release, Brother’s Keeper, continues his artistic evolution
fusing sounds from Rock to Funk to Afrobeat. Meshell Ndegeocello (bass)
and Marc Ford (guitar, Black Crowes, Ben Harper) are just some of the
special guests on the album. Denson notes, “I’m not one to live in the
past. I am very much a forward thinker.
Brother’s
Keeper is a continuation of my general worldview, which is that we
should be loving each other, having fun and taking care of one another.”
He concludes, “This record is the culmination of all my life’s work up
until now.”
TICKETS ARE ON SALE NOW
at the Fillmore Auditorium Box Office, online at www.livenation.com or call 800 – 745 - 3000
Tickets are $26.00 GA ADV and $30.00 GA DOS plus applicable service charges.
LIMITED ADVANCE TICKETS ARE JUST $20.00
The
Fillmore box office is open Monday - Friday from 12:00 Noon - 6:00pm
& Saturdays from 10:00am - 2:00pm. On days of Fillmore shows, the
box office is open from 12:00 Noon – 9:00pm.
The box office accepts cash, MasterCard, Visa and American Express – No checks! Service charges may apply.
THE FILLMORE AUDITORIUM IS LOCATED AT 1510 CLARKSON ST. AT COLFAX.
Part of the Bud Light Concert Series
CONNECT WITH US ON THE WEB
www.livenation.com / www.facebook.com/LiveNationCO / www.twitter.com/livenationco Ages 16+
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Denver Man Washed Into Culvert
During the floods last Friday, a man in the East Colfax neighborhood in Denver fell into Westerly Creek, got sucked into an underground culvert that takes the creek below Colfax Avenue, and emerged in Northwest Aurora. And he lived to tell about it.
http://www.denverpost.com/breakingnews/ci_24087684/colorado-flood-denver-man-washed-into-culvert
http://www.denverpost.com/breakingnews/ci_24087684/colorado-flood-denver-man-washed-into-culvert
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Poetry @ Play
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Join us for this very special event in the Aurora Cutural Arts District this Saturday, September 21st from 6:30-8:30pm. Poets will be reading their favorite original poems at the ACAD Gallery & Studios, located at 
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