Denver

Animals: Long-billed Curlew, Western Kingbird, Eurasian Collared-Dove

Quotes: “Fuck you Summer Santa.” – Santa should not wear a Hawaiian shirt and we should never ever see his feet.

SIARPC: Pee-Pee Golberg

Today’s drive to Denver seemed to take forever. As we moved northward New Mexico became and interesting combination of desert colors with increasingly green trees and foothills. It’s quite pretty, and John told us that we were at the same general latitude as the Smokey Mountains, of which he is very familiar. There really doesn’t seem to be a lot of people out this way. When we stopped for gas it involved 3 mile drives to the only gas station in town. I saw more than a few shacks, although often with an adobe core, and mobile homes. In many ways the region bore a striking similarity to Kentucky Appalachia, although much less leafy. The people were largely Hispanic, but all had a weathered outdoor appearance with functional cowboy hats and dusty pick up trucks. Both times we stopped out here I felt very comfortable. Less taciturn than their Montana brethren we struck up casual conversations easily. We also tried something called a Peanut Patty, which was like a praline formed out of a pink urinal cake. No one could finish their broken off piece. Goodness.

We got to the Denver neighborhood of South Broadway (SOBO) after the stores had closed but still with a little light in the sky. The club was called 3 Kings and it was a rock club formed after the classic model. The green room was wallpapered in promo pictures from ‘90’s bands and then covered in nice patina of stickers from bands who never had a promo picture. The green room had a ramp on either side that led to a wide, comfortable stage. The men’s room had a pee trough that smelled like Calcutta in summer but the club had an admirable collection of pinball machines and even a vintage Tron game. Which was totally awesome. The DJ was dressed like a clothed Bettie Page and the beer selection was local. I liked it. The opening band never showed up. We have no idea what happened. So we went on a little early and played to a medium sized crowd. They were enthusiastic, but just like last time the energy is different here. I’ve tried to come up with some description but cannot. The exchange of energy between band and audience is a very real thing and ultimately unique every night. The best I can say is that it was kind of like having dinner with a family who doesn’t speak the same language but are kind and accommodating. Then there was the added factor of an ex-pat Cincinnati dude who said his band had opened up for us way back in the day (“I learned to play listening to you guys.”) who had applied alcohol to his memories and frequently did a dance that involved hurling his body to the ground and sliding across the floor. He also tried to start up a mosh pit which is ridiculous at our concerts or in any year that's not the 1990's. When he slammed into a women who wanted to get near the stage for the last song I had to go into teacher mode, give him the hand, and tell him to simmer down. He was a nice kid, just shit-faced.

The club was happy with the turn out for a Tuesday and asked us back, so I guess it went OK.

Tomorrow is Travel Day #7