When the year 2002 officially presents itself at midnight on December 31, it will surely arrive with the requisite popping of corks, the kissing of spirit-coated lips and dizzy, mangled readings of "Auld Lang Syne." But it might not carry the same power to induce normally well-mannered individuals to party like it's, well, 1999. After two years of mandatory millennium mania, we might all be due for a slightly more low-key approach to welcoming our old friend January 1 back to the calendar.
Consider what we've been through: December 31, 1999, brought with it a nervous excitement -- a strange combination of giddiness over a new century and trepidation about what that transition might bring. Soon after the clock struck and we'd found our partners for the obligatory midnight smooch, we rushed around searching for the nearest electronic device to tell us whether or not the Y2K bug would indeed wreak havoc on our Palm Pilots and, thus, our lives. When that New Year's Day came and went without so much as a minor municipal power outage, we began thinking ahead, to December 31, 2000. As purists had pointed out, the real new millennium did not begin until 2001, a notion heeded by the City of Denver. Last year we made up for our lackadaisical contribution to the global Y2K party schema by throwing a downtown bash that transformed the 16th Street Mall into a kind of carnival midway, complete with street performers, food and a gigantic fireworks display that might well have been visible from space.
Still, a new year is a new year. Celebrations are in order. Fortunately, the city's party purveyors have made sure that there is still plenty of fun to be had, even if it won't be accompanied by the rocket-red glare of a million exploding fireworks, and even if you have to look a little harder to find it. This New Year's Eve, after all, is more than that rare chance to get shnockered on a Monday night (although that is a nice bonus). It's a time to think earnestly about renewal and regeneration, concepts that have never felt more welcome than they do right now.
Aw, who're we kidding?
HOW LO YOU CAN GO
If you prefer your music to emanate from human beings rather than turntables, check out the cool saxophone stylings of the Laura Newman Quartet at El Chapultepec (1962 Market Street, 303-295-9126), arguably Denver's most timeless jazz joint. Irish rockers the Indulgers fiddle away the night at Fadó (1735 19th Street, 303-297-0066), where a special 5 p.m. toast honors the arrival of the witching hour in Ireland, while the Soiled Dove (1949 Market Street, 303-299-0100) hosts a rocking double bill from Xiren and On Second Thought.
If you feel energetic enough to explore the areas farther downtown, hop on the 16th Street Mall Shuttle, which will run at all hours and is, as always, free. The shuttle has recently added stops at Wazee and Wynkoop streets, which gives you about three extra minutes to wake up before moving on to the next bar. As you move to downtown proper, you can linger on the sidewalks where the neon signs are pretty -- and so are the people. If weather or heating systems permit, check the outdoor patios at Marlowe's, the Paramount Cafe and the Rialto Cafe -- the sophisticated triumvirate that frames the stretch from Glenarm to Champa streets on the mall. (While at the Rialto, make a mental note for Tuesday morning: This theater-themed restaurant serves some of the best Bloody Marys in town.)
Around the corner, Leftover Salmon continues a New Year's tradition with a headlining appearance at the Paramount Theatre (1631 Glenarm Place, 303-534-8336; advance tickets recommended). At the Sherman Street Event Complex (1770 Sherman, 303-778-0916), Lannie Garrett and Her Big Band welcome the new year as they revel in the music of a different era. Get swingin'!