By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
By Michael Roberts
By Melanie Asmar
Ion's enviable lineup consists of singer Noe DeLeon, bassist Joe Sego, drummer David "Davis" Foonberg and second guitarist Nik Lawhorn. And then there's the music: Tautly crafted and unabashedly commercial, the band morphs brawny beats, torrential guitar riffs and polished vocals into songs that are as raucous as they are catchy. Ion is currently mastering a full-length CD; expect it to take off, rocket style. -- Soltero
NOMINATED IN DJ/DANCE/ELECTRONIC
8 P.M., THE CHURCH
Long before Josh Ivy moved the asses of the masses and became a household name on the electronic circuit as DJ Ivy, he was arguably one of the best downhill mountain-bike racers in the world. Then, at the age of nineteen, after nine years as a pro and numerous titles, he unceremoniously walked away at the top of his game to become a filmmaker.
"I realized being an athlete was not in my body anymore," says Ivy of his decision to leave the sport. "I realized there was an artistic side to me."
The turntablist attended film school at the University of Colorado at Boulder briefly before dropping out to make films of his own. However, fate intervened in the form of two turntables with homemade pitch controls; soon, Ivy forgot all about making films.
In what he describes as "just a completely ghetto approach," Ivy learned how to mix from a friend and after a solid year of regimented rehearsal started pursuing gigs of his own. After putting together and distributing over 600 mix tapes, everything began to coalesce in 1999. "Even though it cost me a lot of money," Ivy acknowledges, "that was how I got my name out there."
Ivy currently divides his time between several projects. First, there's his collaboration with Seafoam: Under the moniker Strawberry Fish, the duo has an unreleased twelve-inch, "How Many Licks Does It Take?," due for release on Lo-Rise Recordings. Ivy describes the material as mostly breakbeat and down-tempo. He also tends to a half-dozen residencies, including his most popular night, with partner in crime Psychonaut, at GROWednesdays (Wednesday Nights at Harry's in the Magnolia Hotel). Then there are the Unity Gain parties hosted by his crew, Mile High House. If that weren't enough, he's "hunkering down" and learning how to write his own compositions.
"In terms of deejaying, my main goal is to try and write my own music," says Ivy. "I won't ever stop deejaying; it's all relevant to writing music. My ambition, though, is to play music that makes me feel good. That makes me feel like I lose a sense of time. Makes me forget about everything that's happening and step out of a linear sense of time. I'd like to share that with people, and hopefully, they'll experience it with me." -- Herrera
MARTY JONES AND THE
PORK BOILIN' POOR BOYS
NOMINATED IN COUNTRY/BLUEGRASS/ROOTS
7 P.M., DAZZLE
Because Marty Jones, who leads the Pork Boilin' Poor Boys, is a Westword contributor, he's never been able to write in these pages about one of his favorite local bands: his own. Not surprisingly, he's got plenty to say about what he calls "Denver's finest practitioners of real alternative country music, whatever that means" when given the opportunity.
"I guess the latest is that we're proud to mark our third straight summer with a new guitar player," Jones says. "Our man Dane 'Wichita' Hunter, who joined last year, lost his job with a satellite radio company and has moved to Phoenix to learn how to repair Harley-Davidsons." Taking Hunter's spot is "Barbecue Bob" Coopergrundy, whom Jones describes as "a British guy who played in a band with the drummer from the Pogues." Coopergrundy joins an outfit whose members sport at least two colorful handles, plus a third whose moniker is ordinary but built to last: "We've got Wilbur on drums -- one name only, like Cher -- and Chuck Wagon on guitar. And my name remains Marty Jones."
Full Boar, the Poor Boys' magnum opus, recently earned a second pressing, but Jones isn't interested in sitting tight. "We have material together and might record a new EP this summer," he says. "And I'm hoping to do a little solo recording, just me and a guitar. They're songs that are either very depressing or ones that don't fit the kind of humor we enjoy in the band, like this song about JonBenét Ramsey's murder that nobody really wants to hear." Oh, yeah: Jones is also trying to write some songs with Jason Ringenberg, of Jason and the Scorchers fame, thereby "continuing our evolution into ragged honky-tonk."
Sounds like the type of band Jones would love to profile. Too bad he can't. -- Roberts
NOMINATED IN POP
9 P.M., DAZZLE
"We've got to go to Seattle and learn how the big boys make records."
That's how Love.45 guitarist Paul Trinidad describes a recent trip to the Emerald City's London Bridge Studio, where the band recorded in a facility previously used by Nickelback, Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains, among others. Not too shabby for a group of musicians who've been treading water in Denver's local music scene for more years than they'd like to be reminded of. (They'll admit to six as Love.45.)