Post by BonnevilleMariner on Aug 3, 2005 12:06:05 GMT -5
Ok, I'm getting increasingly bummed as I think about writing a review of this concert. On the one hand I should be happy- my family and I had front-row seats for 90 minutes of my favorite band at the top of their game. But on the other hand I feel like a kid that just got his halloween candy ripped violently from him after a long night's trick or treating. Just as I was giddily settling into what I anticipated to be a magical experience, AKUS's thunder was stolen by, well, thunder.
My wife and I are long-time AKUS fans. Their rootsy, organic style is the perfect complement to the lifestyle of this dusty Utah desert rat, his all-American Texas-bred wife, and their two toddler boys. Alison's angelic voice and the band's delicate ballads have provided the soundtrack to our life for many years. We even rigged up a special 'belly speaker' so that our boys could listen in the womb. Alison has especially touched our 3-yr-old. He says when he's sad he just thinks of 'Alson Kauss' and he is happy. For an energetic and eccentric toddler, hers is the voice that both calms his soul and fuels his sense of adventure. I can almost hear "Choctaw Hayride" playing in his head as he runs around exploring our back yard, collecting sticks and rocks along the way.
Needless to say, When we saw that AKUS were coming to Utah, we were ecstatic. After travelling to Denver to see them on the Great High Mountain Tour last year, we couldn't wait to see them at a much smaller venue right in our own back yard. It's not often we're treated to a top-notch americana/country band in Utah. For some reason nobody thinks there are country fans here. Despite the fact that our own KSOP was the first full-service FM country radio station in the country, it seems the greatest country groups seem to pass right over us- almost as if their they've all got maps with Utah blacked out. Two recent exceptions have been Kenny Chesney who showed up at our little county fair (too bad I'm not a Chesney fan), and AKUS last night. This was a rare occurance in our neck of the woods, which made it even more special...and tragic at the same time.
I don't remember the exact setlist. They played a handful of songs from LRBW right off the bat, interspersed with instrumental classics and Tyminski numbers to thundering applause. The instruments, their voices, the serenity of the Uinta Mountains, even the air- juxtaposed to build the perfect mood. During Jerry's solos, we started feeling a drop of rain here and there. Jerry assured us it would go away quickly and everything would be all right. Obviously mother nature was about to disagree with his opinion. Nonetheless, things were going great.
As they started into "Man of Constant Sorrow," both our boys stood up and danced. Nothing's more adorably hilarious than two boy-to-the-bone toddlers dancing their little hearts out- the younger wearing his Elmo sunglasses upside-down (he insists on wearing them this way, for reasons we'll never understand). This caught Alison's eye and she started cracking up and smiled at them several times during the song. They even got a smile out of Jerry, who for some reason always looks pissed off to me.
It was all going so great. AKUS was in to it, the audience was in to it, our boys were loving it. It was the perfect setup for that part of the concert where things become very intimate and the real magic begins... when the random drops quickened their pace. By the rousing climax of "We Hide and Seek," the sky had darkened and rain was falling in buckets. The audience didn't care a bit and it seemed the band were determined to stick it out to the end. But a few thunder bolts and some pretty spectacular lightning and I saw some of the crew getting visibly nervous. Near the end of the song, the sound guy shouted something into his radio and motioned to the band. Understandably frustrated, they finished the song, said goodbye, and abruptly left the stage.
We were in awe. This couldn't be the end already! Had we just been robbed of arguably the best part of the concert? Of course we were drenched and in serious danger of being fried by lightening, but we just stood there clapping in disbelief, hoping somehow they'd come back out for an encore. But alas, we would be disappointed. They were gone and our dream concert was over, brought to a painfully premature end by some cruel god. What could we do? By now the boys were having a blast stomping in mud puddles in their brand new shoes. After about 5 drenching minutes, reality sank in and we realized that we were all now lightening rods standing here in this high-elevation mountain valley. First quiet disapointment, then utter chaos. Everybody bolted for the lodge, which to this point had closed off for access for band, crew, and 'important' guests. Nonetheless we all filed in- even us lowly general admission waifs. I half expected to run into Ron Block in the men's room.
The storm was bad enough that most everybody decided to wait it out in the lodge before making the trek to the parking areas. If it weren't for the fact that we got jipped out of the final stretch of the concert, this might have been a fun experience. A thunderstorm in the Uintas is quite a sight to behold, and the beauty of our surroundings almost completely drowned out the chaos. Once everybody was settled either in the lodge or in nooks and crannys along the outside, we all waited out the storm in peace with several minutes to contemplate the tragedy of our aborted encounter with AKUS.
When the storm dissapated, we quietly made our ways to the parking lot. Deer Valley is nestled in an alcove accessible by one two-lane road. It would be a long wait to get out. We set up our chairs to take in the post-rain mountain air and wait for the traffic to thin. As groups passed by on their way to their cars, conversations ranged from anger to disappointment. I was just frustrated. I know they did the right thing by ending the concert. Management made the call and AKUS had no choice. But it still bugs me that something we've been looking forward to so long had been stolen from us by a freak storm that lasted all of 15 minutes. What's worse is that I don't know when we'll have a concert like this again. This may seem like an over-dramatic reaction to all of this, but you all are AKUS fans. You know what you'd feel like.
During the drive back down the canyon, I decided that the only way to reconcile my frustration was to be grateful for the 90 minutes we did get. And it was 90 perfect minutes too. For that I am glad. Our boys were fine. For all they knew, that was when the concert was supposed to end anyway. They were happy. On the walk back to the car, my 3-yr-old said, "you know dad, I think I'd like to ask Alison Krauss to come with me to Dinosaur Park (a really cool dino museum here). I bet she's never seen it before and I think she'd love it. And maybe while we're there she can sing me some special songs like she did tonight." It hit me that although my wife and I came away from the concert feeling robbed, our kids came away with wonderful memories of a performance by their favorite group. Maybe that's how I should see it too. I just hope that when/if there is a next time, perhaps they'd be wise to select an indoor venue!
My wife and I are long-time AKUS fans. Their rootsy, organic style is the perfect complement to the lifestyle of this dusty Utah desert rat, his all-American Texas-bred wife, and their two toddler boys. Alison's angelic voice and the band's delicate ballads have provided the soundtrack to our life for many years. We even rigged up a special 'belly speaker' so that our boys could listen in the womb. Alison has especially touched our 3-yr-old. He says when he's sad he just thinks of 'Alson Kauss' and he is happy. For an energetic and eccentric toddler, hers is the voice that both calms his soul and fuels his sense of adventure. I can almost hear "Choctaw Hayride" playing in his head as he runs around exploring our back yard, collecting sticks and rocks along the way.
Needless to say, When we saw that AKUS were coming to Utah, we were ecstatic. After travelling to Denver to see them on the Great High Mountain Tour last year, we couldn't wait to see them at a much smaller venue right in our own back yard. It's not often we're treated to a top-notch americana/country band in Utah. For some reason nobody thinks there are country fans here. Despite the fact that our own KSOP was the first full-service FM country radio station in the country, it seems the greatest country groups seem to pass right over us- almost as if their they've all got maps with Utah blacked out. Two recent exceptions have been Kenny Chesney who showed up at our little county fair (too bad I'm not a Chesney fan), and AKUS last night. This was a rare occurance in our neck of the woods, which made it even more special...and tragic at the same time.
I don't remember the exact setlist. They played a handful of songs from LRBW right off the bat, interspersed with instrumental classics and Tyminski numbers to thundering applause. The instruments, their voices, the serenity of the Uinta Mountains, even the air- juxtaposed to build the perfect mood. During Jerry's solos, we started feeling a drop of rain here and there. Jerry assured us it would go away quickly and everything would be all right. Obviously mother nature was about to disagree with his opinion. Nonetheless, things were going great.
As they started into "Man of Constant Sorrow," both our boys stood up and danced. Nothing's more adorably hilarious than two boy-to-the-bone toddlers dancing their little hearts out- the younger wearing his Elmo sunglasses upside-down (he insists on wearing them this way, for reasons we'll never understand). This caught Alison's eye and she started cracking up and smiled at them several times during the song. They even got a smile out of Jerry, who for some reason always looks pissed off to me.
It was all going so great. AKUS was in to it, the audience was in to it, our boys were loving it. It was the perfect setup for that part of the concert where things become very intimate and the real magic begins... when the random drops quickened their pace. By the rousing climax of "We Hide and Seek," the sky had darkened and rain was falling in buckets. The audience didn't care a bit and it seemed the band were determined to stick it out to the end. But a few thunder bolts and some pretty spectacular lightning and I saw some of the crew getting visibly nervous. Near the end of the song, the sound guy shouted something into his radio and motioned to the band. Understandably frustrated, they finished the song, said goodbye, and abruptly left the stage.
We were in awe. This couldn't be the end already! Had we just been robbed of arguably the best part of the concert? Of course we were drenched and in serious danger of being fried by lightening, but we just stood there clapping in disbelief, hoping somehow they'd come back out for an encore. But alas, we would be disappointed. They were gone and our dream concert was over, brought to a painfully premature end by some cruel god. What could we do? By now the boys were having a blast stomping in mud puddles in their brand new shoes. After about 5 drenching minutes, reality sank in and we realized that we were all now lightening rods standing here in this high-elevation mountain valley. First quiet disapointment, then utter chaos. Everybody bolted for the lodge, which to this point had closed off for access for band, crew, and 'important' guests. Nonetheless we all filed in- even us lowly general admission waifs. I half expected to run into Ron Block in the men's room.
The storm was bad enough that most everybody decided to wait it out in the lodge before making the trek to the parking areas. If it weren't for the fact that we got jipped out of the final stretch of the concert, this might have been a fun experience. A thunderstorm in the Uintas is quite a sight to behold, and the beauty of our surroundings almost completely drowned out the chaos. Once everybody was settled either in the lodge or in nooks and crannys along the outside, we all waited out the storm in peace with several minutes to contemplate the tragedy of our aborted encounter with AKUS.
When the storm dissapated, we quietly made our ways to the parking lot. Deer Valley is nestled in an alcove accessible by one two-lane road. It would be a long wait to get out. We set up our chairs to take in the post-rain mountain air and wait for the traffic to thin. As groups passed by on their way to their cars, conversations ranged from anger to disappointment. I was just frustrated. I know they did the right thing by ending the concert. Management made the call and AKUS had no choice. But it still bugs me that something we've been looking forward to so long had been stolen from us by a freak storm that lasted all of 15 minutes. What's worse is that I don't know when we'll have a concert like this again. This may seem like an over-dramatic reaction to all of this, but you all are AKUS fans. You know what you'd feel like.
During the drive back down the canyon, I decided that the only way to reconcile my frustration was to be grateful for the 90 minutes we did get. And it was 90 perfect minutes too. For that I am glad. Our boys were fine. For all they knew, that was when the concert was supposed to end anyway. They were happy. On the walk back to the car, my 3-yr-old said, "you know dad, I think I'd like to ask Alison Krauss to come with me to Dinosaur Park (a really cool dino museum here). I bet she's never seen it before and I think she'd love it. And maybe while we're there she can sing me some special songs like she did tonight." It hit me that although my wife and I came away from the concert feeling robbed, our kids came away with wonderful memories of a performance by their favorite group. Maybe that's how I should see it too. I just hope that when/if there is a next time, perhaps they'd be wise to select an indoor venue!
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