By Noah Hubbell
By Kiernan Maletsky
By Tom Murphy
By Noah Hubbell
By Alex Distefano
By Darryl Smyers
By Jon Solomon
By Britt Chester
I give up hope of seeing everything. I pick Ratiocination's show at Dick's Last Resort because, for one thing, the band combines hip-hop and jazz and features a freakin' tuba. Dueling vocalists Amy Fisher and Chip Brokaw are energetic, live...they look happy. The room isn't ideal -- you have to be in front to see anything, and the speakers there are loud enough to cause temporary deafness -- but there is much booty-shakin' among the crowd members. Groins are rubbed together. Elsewhere, Blister66 closes out the All-Ages stage, which means that all of the very important drunk people are forced to vacate the VIP tent.
Sometime between 10 p.m. and midnight
Things get weird. At Dick's, Marty Jones & the Pork Boilin' Poor Boys sing about drinking in every bar in town, and the crowd drinks it up. A member of Brethren Fast -- apparently not getting the joke behind the "let's be assholes to our customers" theme at the bar -- proceeds to punch a bartender. A small fight ensues. People are thrown out. No one even notices. The aforementioned can-can dancing is observed, as is the aforementioned shout to the horse-mounted cops. At the Soiled Dove, the Czars show a packed house why they are on the serious move and getting ready to tour Europe: They rock. At Bash, singer/songwriter nominee Wendy Woo -- who has her own show at the Dove an hour later -- jumps on stage with Hazel Miller, to the delight of the diva-loving crowd. (Miller will be the featured performer at the showcase awards ceremony Sunday, May 14, at the Fillmore.) A marriage proposal is overheard. An inordinate number of motorcycles are observed circling LoDo. Vitamin D runs late, and Apostle's crowd gets anxious, so the rapper swaps slots with the DJ at Market. Back at Dick's, the majority of the crowd watches a hockey game on TV. Ten or so dancers remain on the floor for Dotsero's set. (A serious venue mismatch is sensed as a raver laments the "white-guy jazz act" on stage.) A woman at Dick's tells her friend she has become a "drunk and sweaty pig." Looking over the crowd, I realize that her remark kind of sums things up.
Things calm down. Bar staff break out brooms and brushes. Cabs are called, aspirins swallowed, phone numbers exchanged. CDs and T-shirts are purchased. Hangovers are anticipated. New music is appreciated. In about five hours, the sun will come up in perfect alignment with the earth, the moon and five other planets. It's a beautiful night in Denver.