Moving from singer-songwriter-style pop to intricate noise rock, Worm Trouble bridges the chasm between wispy melodies and blistering riffs with ease. A typical set weaves dozens of radically different sonic threads into a slew of textures that range from delicate to explosive, melancholy to sarcastic. Despite its name, there's no trouble in this trio -- at least as far as the eclectically minded listener can tell.
Classically trained and jazzically inclined, Teresa Carroll knows her way around a song -- almost any song -- because she's lived a few lyrics herself. A graduate of Thomas Jefferson High School, she studied opera in New York in the 1970s and early '80s, but she was always drawn to the Holy Trinity -- Billie, Sarah and Ella -- as well as Nancy Wilson and other jazz icons. You can hear the scatting, octave-leaping, brooding echoes of these immortals in Carroll's vivid mezzo-soprano voice, but her style's all her own now, and that's the essential thing. Every fourth Sunday, she sings at Shakespeare's; every other Tuesday, she's at the Manhattan Grill in Cherry Creek; and periodic gigs take her to the Sambuca Jazz Café, Enoteca, and Trios in Boulder. When she gets inside a ballad like "Love for Sale," she can break your heart.
Move over Hazel, Nina and Lannie. Though she's not exactly glamorous and hardly a diva, Madame Andrews is in possession of the city's most divine set of pipes. When the Heavenly Echoes vocalist and host of KGNU-FM's Gospel Chime sings her joyous, old-school testimonials to faith, she sends skin crawling and Satan heading for parts farther south. Andrews's current CD, (I've Got To) Make Up for the Time I Lost, is worth thanking heaven for.
Too many of the area's soundmen think a successful night on the job means causing tinnitus in the clientele. Shane Hotle knows better. He keeps the wattage in check and fills the Merc's glorious upstairs room with a smartly mixed, just-below-capacity sound. The result allows auditory indulgence up front and conversation in the back bar -- which is just as it should be.
For a city of its size, Denver comes up short on compelling, cliche-free blues acts. But David Booker sings a different song. He's moved crowds here for decades, thanks to an eye for great material and supporting players -- not to mention a voice that wraps around standards like a sharkskin scarf. Add in his car-salesman/street-huckster persona, and you've got the finest bluesman about town.
Open Road has undergone a few changes in personnel since its acclaimed debut, Open Road, but that hasn't slowed the band. The acoustic combo from Lyons continues to serve up pure, traditionally spirited music of the finest kind -- an approach that's drawing attention from around the nation. If the players can hang on to the good mojo and chemistry, folks outside the state might think of Colorado as a place where jammy grass and the authentic stuff share the same soil.
As a member of Open Road, Brad Folk handles himself as a country gentleman, a stately vocalist in a traditional bluegrass band. When fronting his trio, however, he turns into something else entirely -- a restrained, yowling wildcat. His act is real gone, all right, dishing out the meanest early-'50s rockabilly around. Is it fair that one guy gets to front two of the state's best roots acts? His fans think so.
For almost ten years, Les Cooper and his Dalharts have carried the torch for honest-to-gawd country. Good thing they had the patience to stick it out, because the Dalharts have matured into one heck of a fine band. Thanks to Les's rich bray, Tim Cooper's sugarcane steel-guitar playing and the seasoned craftsmanship of the rest of the Imperial cast, locals have a homegrown cure for Nashville's illnesses.
Run by Andrew Murphy, a spry and indefatigable supporter of homegrown music, Boulder-based Smooch Records has done more than just put out records: The label has helped cultivate an identity for the grassroots network of independent artists who make and record music in the Front Range. The sporadic Smooch live showcases are sampler-platter style concerts that give listeners a chance to taste a little of what's going on underground. Recently, the Smooch logo has appeared alongside some of the area's finest musical exports, from Maraca 5-0 to Jay Munly. Pucker up.
Cut live at the Boulder Theater in 1996, So Long of a Journey captures one of the finest acts to emerge from the contemporary bluegrass scene in all its glory: From the traditional favorite "Keep Your Lamp Trimmed and Burning" to the joyous "Won't You Come and Sing for Me," the playing and singing of Pete Wernick, Tim O'Brien, Nick Forster and Charles Sawtelle is as skilled as it is spontaneous. With the passing of Sawtelle, future Hot Rize reunions will necessarily have something missing, which only makes this CD all the more valuable.

Best Of Denver®

Best Of