Noisywaters: Here we come, Boulder
by Benza Maman
We we’re on the final stretch of the 24-hour drive to Colorado. We’ve done that drive all at once before, but when we do that, the whole next day is wasted sleeping anyways so slowly we learned that there really isn’t any time gained by the non-stop haul. Now, the usual route is Boise the first night, stay with our dear friend Ruthie, hang with her friends. Then the next day (which is the longer of the two driving days) we head to the Mile High City! Even with crashing in Boise for a night, by the end of the drive we’re ready to be out of the car. So it’s late and I’m going about 80, we’re in Wyoming and drum roll please, because the next state over is COLORADO! Now I grew up driving in Colorado, but at 18 I moved to Los Angeles, then I moved up north to Bellingham. So maybe I forgot a thing or two about what to watch out for around Colorado in the winter time. I’m coasting along, excited at the reward of a nice warm bed waiting for me in the house I grew up in. Maybe I was going faster than I should have been, but there were no other cars in sight, so I went for it. Suddenly we slide a little bit, and I don’t think much of it, then a little more, then Will who’s sitting in the passenger seat is like “whoa buddy” and I realized “It’s not me man.” Within seconds we slide into the other side of the road spin a 180 so we’re going 80-plus miles an hour backswards in the oncoming traffic lane on the highway, with all our music gear, A.K.A. everything of value to us in this world in the car. We slide right off the other side of the highway, did I mention backwards? Into a snow bank. A little in shock, but counting our lucky stars that nobody was coming in the opposite lane when we slid into it. We get out of the car for a second, Will askes to drive the rest of the way, and that sounded like a good idea to me, too. I’m ready to push the car if needed, but we ended up just driving right out of the snow bank scott free! It had been long enough driving in ice free territories that I forgot about black ice. The slipperiest and hardest to see. We only have an hour left but, now we’re going half of the speed limit because the whole road is covered in ice. THANKS FOR TAKING CARE OF YOUR HIGHWAYS WYOMING! Anyways, we finally arrive in one piece, and feeling very lucky.
One of the Colorado gigs (that we risked our lives to get there for) was a private event celebrating the 10th anniversary of a Boulder born jewelry business call Todd Reed. Todd Reed is the name of the artist who started the business, and in 10 years he’s grown from a Boulder, Colorado local business, to a worldwide name, opened locations all around the country, and he even does specialty red carpet pieces for select celebrities. If I’m remembering correctly one of the pieces I saw for sale there was upwards of $200,000! Needless to say, this wasn’t the same crowd you see at the Buff on a Friday night.
We get to the venue for sound check, and the venue turns out to be the actual store front which doubles as the jewelry laboratory, complete with laser machines and a giant walk-in safe. We run into Todd, who was very kind and a wonderful host. We set up, check the projector for the visuals, set up the light boxes, and got the sound right. Now It’s off to kill some time, and eat some dinner before the show. We ate dinner at a restaurant with Will’s parents, then decided we wanted to see a bit of the party and check out the opening bands. As you might expect, the party’s full of the who’s who of Boulder, and I saw so much plastic surgery walking around, I could have sworn I was back in LA! Anyways the party is catered with delicious exotic drinks, and appetizers, there was a belly dancer who after her solo performance started getting down to the folk band that was playing. That was a sight to see! Belly dancing to some ole’ country folk. Haha. There was a youth breakdance crew that was phenomenal, and even a jam room full of instruments in case the partyers were in the mood. It had all the makings for a great time, except, minus a couple acquaintances, I didn’t really know anyone. Sometimes before a show I’m very mellow, maybe my subconscious is trying to save my energy or who knows. I wasn’t quite feeling like I had the strength to go be the charming musician to a bunch of strangers, and this crowd seemed like they would require my most interesting self, who was currently unavailable. I wandered around the beautifully decorated rooms, waited in numerous lines just for something to do, failed hitting on the gorgeous event coordinator’s assistant, and just hung out alone like a ghost. The high class Boulderites were overly concerned with their own image in their own circles, so I watched the bands. They were great! Especially when the belly dancer joined in. Finally it’s our time to perform. It’s late, the crowd’s in the mood, and we play a killer set! People were jumping and screaming, one guy almost knocked over the speakers, and we had an encore cheer like none other.
Afterwards we packed everything up, and much to my dismay we decided to stay a little longer. Only this time, everybody (or so it felt like) wanted to talk me. A complete 180 shift from my fly in the wall status an hour earlier. I was just as interesting (or lack thereof) before the show, but now, I was the guy. As with every good show, a bunch of drunk people suddenly know a girl that knows a guy who throws shows, and they want to book us. Someone’s brother used to be an agent, people want to take pictures. I mean it’s almost a joke. I suppose it’s untestable, if you don’t know who someone is then you don’t have a reason to talk to them. But it does hold a strong case for reaching out to people, because you never know who you might meet!