Arts & Entertainment

Taped on the front of the Lion’s Lair jukebox is a letter from Colorado congresswoman Diana DeGette, congratulating the bar on winning the award for Best Jukebox in the 2004 Best of Denver issue. There’s a good chance that many of the CDs on that weathered box today were there seven years ago, too; hell, if ain’t broke, why fix it? With one of the most eclectic collections in town, the Lair’s jukebox is stocked with everything from the blues of Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters to the Stones, Zeppelin and Hendrix and metal icons like Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath and AC/DC. Of course, punk is present and accounted for, too, with the likes of the Clash (Joe Strummer drank here), X (John Doe plays the Lair nearly every time he comes to town) and Iggy. And along with at least five discs by Bruce Springsteen and a few by soul singers such as Otis Redding and Curtis Mayfield, you’ll even find Miles Davis’s watershed recording, Kind of Blue. Take a letter, Diana.

For most people, karaoke is something done only in the privacy of the shower or when your friend drags you (with your fourth or fifth vodka tonic in hand) to the stage to giggle through an ensemble rendition of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” But for the few and the proud, karaoke is an art form. And there’s no better place to practice that art than at Music Bar, where the karaoke is on three nights a week (Thursday, Friday and Saturday) and where your chances of getting multiple turns at the microphone in a single night are better than at other karaoke mainstays — in between renditions of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” of course.

Stoney’s Bar & Grill touts itself as “a local kind of place,” and the owners take that concept pretty damn seriously. This rustic spot, which moved into the former Andrew’s on Lincoln space last summer, practically screams “Colorado,” with a pond and miniature campsite near the entrance, a ski gondola turned photo booth up front, 150-year-old reclaimed barn wood lining the walls, and antique skis and bikes hanging from the rafters. In keeping with the theme, Stoney’s uses locally sourced meat (including some exotic critters) for its sliders and offers plenty of Colorado beers in cans — which all get recycled, with the proceeds going to local charities. And with twenty HDTVs scattered around the place and two 120-inch projection screens, Stoney’s is not just a “local kind of place,” but a great spot to watch the home teams.

When hi-dive/Sputnik owner Matt LaBarge took over the Bulldog Bar (and Monroe Tavern before that) last year, it didn’t take long for him to turn the dive into a comfortable, inviting spot. Taking his inspiration from older clubs in the Silver Lake area of Los Angeles — as well as an even earlier incarnation of the space as the Alamo, which was East Colfax Avenue’s first piano bar back in the ’40s — LaBarge made the Lost Lake Lounge the kind of cozy, cabin-like club you’re always happy to find. And with folks like Nathaniel Rateliff doing monthly residences, you’re certain to run into more than a few appreciative musicians in this dark joint. We’re not in Kansas anymore — and it doesn’t feel much like Denver, either.

While Ziggie’s has long been hailed as Denver’s oldest blues bar, in recent years it’s expanded into other genres, such as rock, R&B and funk. In addition to an acoustic open-mike night on Mondays, an open jam on Tuesdays and a chance to sit in with featured musicians on Wednesdays, Ziggie’s also boasts one of the longest-running blues jams in town on Sundays. And that’s where the real action is. The Doc Brown Blues Band and the Blues Allstars alternate hosting the blues jams, which bring in a variety of solid musicians playing covers and originals. Keyboard players need not worry about bringing down a keyboard; the bar has one available for the jams, which kick off at 7 p.m.

Lincoln’s Road House might be known primarily for its meatloaf cheeseburger, pot roast burrito and Cajun food, but the bar also brings in a meaty lineup of the area’s finest blues acts, including the Informants, Delta Sonics, David Booker and Stanley Milton, on the weekends. Lincoln’s also books such nationally known bluesmen as Muddy Waters’s son Big Bill Morganfield and Albuquerque’s Todd Tijerina to play the tiny stage next to the door. There isn’t a whole lot of room to dance at Lincoln’s, but the colorful crew of bikers and other regulars make the most of the space and always look like they’re having one hell of a good time.

For close to fifteen years, Dazzle has shown that it has what it takes to be a dazzling, world-class jazz venue. Downbeat magazine agrees: It’s rated Dazzle as one of the top 100 jazz clubs in the world. This is just about the only place in town where you can regularly catch jazz legends like Christian McBride, Curtis Fuller, Bobby Watson and Junior Mance, as well as such great local players as Ron Miles, Kenny Walker and Jeff Jenkins; over the past year, the venue has somewhat broadened its horizons by bringing in forward-thinking acts that include the Bad Plus and the Nels Cline Singers. And not only does Dazzle feature stellar talent seven days a week, but it also serves mouth-watering food and boasts an excellent $5.60 happy-hour menu.

After a long run, the 15th Street Tavern closed in 2007, leaving a big hole in the downtown punk scene. And almost immediately, the Tavern’s Myke Martinez started looking for a place where he could resurrect that beloved venue. It took a few years of hunting, but Martinez and Kris Sieger, another former 15th Street owner, finally found what they were looking for in the spot previously occupied by the Triangle. The two teamed with 3 Kings Tavern owner Jim Norris to overhaul the space, adding a stage and putting a tiki bar in back. While the Rockaway isn’t an entirely authentic resurrection of 15th Street, it borrows elements from both that venue and 3 Kings to add something entirely new, and much needed, to the scene.

Now in its third year, Beta continues to be Denver’s hot spot for clubbing. Armed with the Funktion-One Dance Array 4 Speaker Stack System (Beta was the first spot in North America to get one), this dance club bumps like no other, bringing in such world-class talent every week as top spinners Richie Hawtin, John Digweed and Pete Tong, as well as a parade of the area’s finest DJs. Although Beta is huge, it still fills up on a regular basis. And for those nights when the dance floor is packed with sweaty, beautiful people, Beta recently teamed up with Kryogenifex Productions to help cool down the crowd by blasting liquid nitrogen into the air.

The closing of the short-lived Neighborhood Flix Cinema & Cafe was a blow to the emerging culture magnet of the Lowenstein complex. But the Denver Film Society has given the space new life — and given its unique offerings a better venue than at the Tivoli, where patrons had to deal with decrepit theaters and compete for parking with mobs headed to events at the Pepsi Center. Although there are only three theaters in the new locale, they’re booked every night with independent, ambitious films, and frequently feature special series and speakers. But no matter what night you stop in, you can count on great seats, a cafe and lounge for post-screening parsing of the indie and foreign fare, and the city’s best music and book stores just a few steps away, prolonging your cultural immersion. In short, a trip to the DFC is a glorious wallow in artiness: Be sure to bring your beret.

After close to a twenty-year run as the Snake Pit, this Capitol Hill hangout got a much-needed makeover before it opened as Beauty Bar last June. Based on the original Beauty Bar concept that got its start in New York in 1995, Denver’s Beauty Bar (there are similar clubs in Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco and Las Vegas) was brought to life by partners Noah Ray McMahan, Justin Martinez and Mike Barnhart, who turned the 3,200-square-foot space into a sparkly new club that captures the ’50s beauty-parlor aesthetic of the original bar. Some of the furniture was salvaged from old salons, while booths and chairs left over from the Snake Pit era were reupholstered in black and silver glitter vinyl by a lowrider shop. Armed with a killer KS Audio sound system, the main room is a great spot for dancing to resident DJs or the nationally known spinners who occasionally pop in.

If you haven’t already been to the Dikeou Collection, chances are good that you’ll never find it without a guide. The gorgeous gallery is hidden away on the fifth floor of a building just off the 16th Street Mall, and is a white maze of rooms filled with art installations of all mediums, occasionally including floor-to-ceiling inflatable pink bunnies. In the midst of all this, the Dikeou Collection holds intimate, donation-based shows — Sara Century, Cougarpants and Last Eyes played a recent First Friday gathering. The space’s serene sterility as a gallery offers a nice, natural juxtaposition to the loud and sometimes wild performances by local musicians.

Rhinoceropolis has it all — even if some of that is do-it-yourself. The venue is part show space, part home, and all living homage to every underground hangout in American teenage music history. There’s no sign on the building, never any set cover charge for any show, and no question that whether Nu Sensae, Monotonix or SSION is coming through, there’s a party to be had. The space is always all-ages, and open to virtually any kind of music. The best best way to book a show at Rhinoceropolis? Go to shows there. The venue is the not-for-profit heart of a creative community that exists on the bands, DJs, artists and people who get involved.

While the folks at Soda Jerk Presents already owned the Marquis Theater at the edge of LoDo and the Black Sheep in Colorado Springs, they still wanted a bigger venue of their own where they could put larger-drawing acts, which were previously booked at various bigger venues around town. So last year, Mike Barsch and company took over the former Bash nightclub space at 1902 Blake Street and transformed the 12,500-square-foot venue into a first-class music venue with top-notch lighting and sound rigs. Since reopening as Summit Music Hall last April, the venue has brought in a steady stream of acts that run the gamut from punk and metal to hip-hop and industrial. And when the main room isn’t being used for bigger shows, the front room, which has a small stage, occasionally brings in local acts, adding a welcome option for this scene’s up-and-coming bands.

We in Denver are blessed to have one of the world’s greatest music venues just west of town — but only a handful of local musicians will ever get the opportunity to play the hallowed Red Rocks Amphitheater. And without the highly successful Film on the Rocks summer movie series, far fewer locals would ever grace that incredible stage. The series, which has found its stride in recent years and now sells out most of its screenings, hand-picks promising acts to play before each movie. The gig may not be an industry showcase or an opportunity to impress an idol, but the thrill of looking up at the crowd, seeing the rock cliffs on either side and knowing you’re standing in the shadows of as impressive a list of legendary rock-and-roll performers as has ever existed, is a thrill not to be taken lightly.

After fifteen years as publicity director (and, briefly, head of patron relations) at the Denver Center Theatre Company, Chris Wiger left in February for a spiffy job as director of marketing and public relations at the new Lone Tree Arts Center. We started missing things about him even before he left. His extraordinary efficiency, for example: Wiger responded to requests for seats, photographs and information in record time (“Can you give me the name of that visiting actor twelve years ago who starred in … ?”; “When did the Denver Center last do Romeo and Juliet, and who directed?”). His thoughtfulness: Get caught in a traffic jam, and you were likely to find Wiger standing in the middle of the lobby when you finally raced in, holding out your tickets; find yourself seated next to a loud drunk and he’d get you another seat, pronto. The interesting details he could pass on about each production — the concept, the costumes, the script. His regard for the actors and transparent love for the company itself: Knowing many actors don’t like reading reviews while a show is running, Wiger collected albums of clippings and photographs to be distributed at the production’s end. While we look forward to seeing him at Lone Tree, evenings at the Denver Center will never be the same.

The Denver Center Theatre Company introduced its New Play Summit five years ago, and it continues to give us hope for the future of theater in this town. This year’s incarnation featured two premieres based on last year’s staged readings: The Catch and Map of Heaven. Four fascinating — and entirely unique — new plays were read for possible full production this season, with their playwrights commenting afterward on how much they cherished the freedom and support of the New Play Summit. Denver’s own Buntporters experimented with tech as they explored the work of Nikola Tesla; a panel discussed the mind-blowing possibilities that digitization brings to live theater; and actors, techies, directors and theater fans thronged the corridors, chatting enthusiastically about what they’d just seen and hoped to see again.

On November 4, Lucy Roucis, whose fine work we’ve seen in Phamaly productions for many years, attended the Los Angeles premiere of Love and Other Drugs, starring Anne Hathaway and Jake Gyllenhaal. Roucis has a feature role in the film, as a jokester who cheers up Hathaway’s character, newly diagnosed with Parkinson’s. And anyone who saw the comic routine that Roucis perfected a few years back on the pros and cons of her own Parkinson’s knew that she’d be perfect in the role. Pro: Having so much movement from medication and burning calories, you can eat anything you want. Con: Except soup.

After giving us a gallery of interesting characters at numerous Denver venues over the years, Paul Page left town last year to pursue acting work in New York City. Last we heard, he’d acquired a good agent. So we’re beating back that nasty, sneaking hope we always entertain when one of our favorites leaves that he/she will fail miserably and return to us. Instead, we’re wishing Page a brilliant career.

While the exquisite songs — “Younger Than Springtime,” “Some Enchanted Evening,” “Bali Hai” — continue to delight, the action in South Pacific often feels fragmented and dated. Barlett Sher’s revival, which won several Tony awards, added intelligent interpretive touches and pulled everything so brilliantly together that Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical gained a new cohesion and vitality. Both musically and visually, the show was a feast. The casting was extraordinary, too, giving us a smart, quirky Nellie, a gravely dignified De Becque and an entirely original Bloody Mary.

Of all the conspiracy theories swirling around DIA, this may be the most awesome. Take the numbers sent by the aliens for their Earthly rendezvous in the movie Encounters of the Third Kind — 104, 44, 30, 40, 36, 10 — and plug them into Google Earth as W104° 44′ 30″ N40° 36′ 10″. What do you get? Denver International Fucking Airport! If the coordinate numbers had led Google Earth to, say, the intersection of Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco, we could have dismissed this as a hilarious coincidence or intentional joke by the scriptwriters. But to have the geographical dart land on DIA, a facility that is approaching Area 51 status within Internet conspiracy culture, is almost too astoundingly synergistic to brush off. As a blogger at rabbithole2.com notes, “Back when Encounters of the Third Kind was made the Denver Airport was nothing more than a farmer’s field. That airport would not be built at that location FOR 16 YEARS!” When we start making a replica of the terminal tent out of mashed potatoes, though, lock us up — or send as to Ault, which also tends to show up when you plug in those coordinates.

Thanks to her friendship with director Michael Duran, the voice of Carol Channing herself welcomed audiences to this warm, lively production of Hello, Dolly! at Boulder’s Dinner Theater, where it was graced by a stellar performance from Alicia Dunfee in the title role, a charming one from Wayne Kennedy as Horace Vandergelder, the man she’s determined to snare, and a stage full of lively performers.

Emilia is Iago’s wife in Othello, and no one can ever quite figure out how complicit she is in his murderous deceptions. Emilia has to know that something’s badly askew when she hears Othello castigating Desdemona for having lost the handkerchief she herself picked up earlier and gave to her husband, but she says nothing — despite the fact that she cares for Desdemona. Kathleen McCall’s complex, moving performance in the Denver Center Theatre Company’s production shed light on this riddle, showing how Emilia’s longing to do what was right warred continually with her pained love for Iago.

Some actors win audience attention effortlessly; most have to work for it. Allison Pistorius is in the former group. When she comes on stage, you want to watch her. When she leaves, you feel a moment’s regret. This quality stood her in good stead in the role of the jilted Helena in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a part that’s too often cartoony or forgettable. In this Denver Center Theatre Company production, Pistorius got in a bunch of lively slapstick: furious struggles with her perceived rival, Hermia, enraged encounters with the two men who alternately pursued and rejected her, a memorable soaking. But despite all this, she made the character warmly human.

First-rate Shakespeare is very rare in Colorado, and that’s why we were so excited by the Denver Center Theatre Company’s glowing, intelligent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Visually beautiful, smartly directed and with strength in every corner of the cast from top to bottom, it both brought new insights to this much-performed play and emphasized old pleasures.

Gaston, Belle’s rejected and vindictive suitor in Beauty and the Beast, may be vain, a dope and a brute. But Stephen Hahn’s version in the Phamaly production was so full of wild, juicy, hang-the-consequences vitality that you could see exactly why all the village maidens pined for him.

Nick Sugar was born to play the raucous, all-stops-out part of Hedwig in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. In this Avenue Theater production, he got to strut, cross-dress, belt out numbers both sexy and forlorn, boast, whine, mock and beg — and all while he held the audience spellbound. And then he went further, reaching deep into his own soul to find a redemptive dignity amid the squalor.

With her calm grace and pure, beautifully modulated singing voice, Tracy Warren was a standout as hat-maker Irene Malloy in the Boulder’s Dinner Theatre production of Hello, Dolly!

Despite the faux spunkiness with which the Disney Corporation endows its heroines, every Belle we’ve ever seen has been utterly insipid — and Jenna Bainbridge had precisely the sweet soprano and delicate, pretty features required for Beauty and the Beast‘s Belle. But in this Phamaly production, she also packed a grit and determination that made her easily a match for Leonard Barrett’s powerful beast.

When it’s required, C. Kelly Leo can muster an intensity that threatens to shatter the theater walls, and she deployed it to hilarious effect as neurotic Hermia, wife of the dead man at the center of Dead Man’s Cell Phone. Tightly wound and buttoned down at the beginning, she unspooled after a few drinks to become a small tornado, so gleefully and brilliantly over the top that she actually seemed to blur at the edges. Leo’s part was small, but she solidified this Curious Theatre Company production.

The Denver International Airport has long been a hotbed of hand-wringing conspiracy theories — the Leo Tanguma-painted mural featuring gas-masked Nazi-ghouls and multicultural children in caskets, the giant laser-eyed Mustang of Death that murdered its creator, and the Masonic capstone have all led wingnuts far and wide to speculate that our airport is in fact the future site of a New World Order-administered alien concentration camp — and given that legacy, its isn’t hard to imagine that a certain tie-in to the Denver Art Museum’s Tut exhibit had those hands wringing in overdrive. For two unsettling months, a thirty-foot-tall Anubis, the ancient Egyptian jackal-headed God of Death, presided like the world’s least inconspicuous stalker just outside the floor-to-ceiling window of the Jeppesen terminal’s security check-in, and though Anubis (along with Tut) has since moved on, the terror in our hearts is not so easily erased.

In Reckless, Rachel is a crazy, farcical character, given to euphoria attacks and blindly ecstatic babble (only briefly interrupted by her husband’s revelation that he’s taken out a contract on her life). In the role, Julia Motyka sometimes bounded around the stage with an energy so manic you wanted to help those contract killers strangle her yourself. But at other times she was thoughtful and smart, and by the play’s end, she’d deepened into someone you genuinely wanted to know. Motyka’s smart performance in the Denver Center Theatre Company’s production was anything but reckless.

As an actor, Mark Rubald communicates a radiant decency. When he’s on stage, you just plain like him; you want him to be happy and succeed. So he was perfectly cast as a good-natured working stiff in Curious Theatre Company’s production of Circle Mirror Transformation. You could see how puzzled Schultz was by all the arty stuff going on in these acting workshops, how intrigued by sexy little vixen Theresa and how sad when their affair fell apart. And yet you knew he’d carry on, as calm, kindly and competent as before.

There was an intriguing tension between the sense of calm and centeredness that actress Jessica Love tends to emanate on stage and Jen, the angry, neurotic younger sister she portrayed in Map of Heaven. It turned out to be a winning mix in this Denver Center Theatre Company production. Tossing her long legs over the arm of a sofa, sulking, snapping at her brother, boasting to her sister-in-law, sexy and disheveled, Jen livened up every scene she strode into.

Mike Hartman always brings a deep, humorous authenticity to his roles — as he did to kvetchy, diabetic Sid, the protagonist’s father in The Catch in the Denver Center Theatre Company premiere. Emotionally stunted, endlessly critical of his son, craving sugar every waking moment, this Sid was funny and annoying. And still, in a sneaking way, you loved him.

In Mouse in a Jar, Ma is the ultimate female victim: a Polish immigrant married to a faceless man who regularly abuses her and stands symbolically for the brute power of dictatorship and oppression everywhere. Ma cooks. She awaits the nightly return of her oppressor. She does little to protect her two daughters, and when one of them attempts to protect her, the attempt itself is brutal. Yet Ma also possesses a twisted, burned-in-the-flame toughness and humor. Trina Magness gave a memorable, haunted performance as Ma in LIDA’s production of Mouse in a Jar.

Gary is determined to make his fortune by catching a home-run ball. In Ian Merrill Peakes’s committed, intelligent performance in the premiere of The Catch at the Denver Center Theatre Company, we saw all the character’s complexity, his brilliance in calculating the odds, his grandiosity and delusion — and also his very human attempts to connect with his estranged wife and emotionally pinched father.

There are only three characters in Art, a play about a man who buys an all-white painting at an astronomical price and the two friends whose loyalties are severely tested by the extravagant and pretentious act. Under the meticulous direction of Richard Pegg, three superb actors — Josh Hartwell, Jim Hunt, Chris Kendall — in this Miners Alley production made every moment and motivation clean and clear, and the currents running through all of their interactions were deep and tantalizing. For ensemble work, Art was a masterpiece.

Into the world of safe, light and forgettable little musicals blew Tupperware-selling phenom Dixie Longate, a booze- and drug-addled, trash-talking, child-neglecting ex-con from Alabama, to stage a real Tupperware party in Dixie’s Tupperware Party. You could buy pretty much everything she described on the stage, including collapsible bowls and ribbed mugs — that is, if you could stop laughing long enough. Kris Anderson, an actor who realized he could actually make a living selling Tupperware, came up with the sweet, dirty-minded and hilarious script, and he performed the hell out of it.

Phamaly is truly an amazing family of performers, all with varying physical disabilities — and director Steve Wilson knows how to work around, and with, every one of them. Wilson doesn’t just accommodate these handicaps; he makes them a positive force in the action. When he and the company took on Beauty and the Beast, a tired, sentimental old musical, they made it new and vibrant. Jenna Bainbridge and Leonard Barrett were magnificent in the leads, and there were many pleasures in the smaller roles: Every one of the enchanted objects in the Beast’s castle had its own charm and personality, for instance. The big numbers were done with a professionalism that any major Broadway production would have trouble matching — and with far more heart.

Set in a timeless Japan, The Sound of a Voice tells the story of a warrior who arrives at the home of a woman he believes to be a witch; he intends to kill her, and the two interact in several taut, charged and ambiguous scenes. Director Warren Sherrill did full justice to the play’s poetry and intensity in Paragon Theatre Company’s production. He enlisted two dancers from the Kim Robards Company to add depth and perspective, and in Sheila Ivy Traister found an actress able to communicate both the central character’s witchiness and her humanity. When she poured tea into a cup, the sound of the trickling liquid mesmerized the entire audience — such was the level of precision and concentration Sherill’s entire production achieved.

Between arthouses and snowboarders and anyone else with a large white surface to project on and a masochistic yen for cat-herding, there are probably at least two film festivals running at any given time in this town. And while many of them suffer from a disconnect — either they’re “local” or they’re “good,” but they’re rarely both — the first EFPalooza made a strong bid for resolving that imbalance. Of course, its parent organization, the Emerging Filmmakers Project, based at the Bug Theatre, has been uniting, nurturing and showcasing local filmmakers since 2002; in fact, the impetus for the festival came when host Patrick Sheridan realized that the group was about to screen its 500th film, which he felt warranted some celebration. With a track record like that, it’s no surprise that the inaugural EFP managed to round up a diverse and shockingly high-quality selection from an array of top-notch local artists — and even though the going is always roughest the first time around, EFPalooza delivered like gangbusters. Here’s to the sequel.

The Buntport Theater Company has been working in the musical genre — in its own way — for a while; not many other theater groups would have realized the aesthetic possibilities of turning Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus into a musical, for instance. And a couple of years back, the Buntporters got the inspired idea of collaborating with artist-composer Adam Stone — even though, as they proudly and publicly asserted, none of them really knew how to sing. The brilliant result was Seal Stamp Send Bang, a musical about the postal service first produced in 2009 and revived this year. And good got even better with a second collaboration, Jugged Rabbit Stew, among Buntport’s most entertaining, and memorable, productions, with the music alone — a mix of genres from rock to country-Western — worth a listen.

It’s hugely to the credit of authors Marilyn Campbell and Curt Columbus that they managed to distill Dostoyevsky’s magnum opus into a ninety-minute play without sacrificing depth and significance — and it also speaks volumes about the Boulder Ensemble Theatre Company’s artistic ambition and integrity that it chose to stage this version of Crime and Punishment. The production was thoughtful and solid, with a stellar turn by Chris Kendall as the cagey police investigator, Porfiry, who wrings a murder confession out of Raskolnikov through a combination of deliberate vagueness, faux innocence and bloodhound-like tenacity.

The members of the decade-old Buntport Theater Company arrive at all of their final productions through group work and discussion, play and improvisation, and Jugged Rabbit Stew was no exception. But this original play surpassed even their usual surreal, daring and crazily imaginative standards. A wicked magician’s bunny that steals everything he can lay his paws on, including human limbs and a woman he’s infatuated with? A love affair between said woman and a disembodied arm? Completely nutty, ridiculously funny — and also, in its odd way, thoughtful and evocative.

Ken Weitzman’s The Catch is about baseball, obviously, but also about human dreams, greed and self-delusion as the protagonist, Gary, schemes to catch a home-run ball that he thinks will restore the money he lost when his dot-com venture failed, in the process bringing back his estranged wife. In between frantic calculations, he wars with his cranky father, Sid. The Catch makes for a fast, entertaining, intensely theatrical experience that’s also smart and emotionally involving. After a reading at last year’s New Play Summit sponsored by the Denver Center Theatre Company, it was wisely chosen for full production — and lived up to all of its potential.

Sometimes the small pleasures are the most intense. Circle Mirror Transformation followed the encounters of a group of small-town, would-be thespians learning acting and performing theater exercises — tell an anecdote, mirror another person vocally and physically, hold a conversation using only nonsense words — and slowly coming to know each other. There were no great revelations or climactic events in this Curious Theatre Company production, just occasional bright moments of insight. The interactions among director Chris Leo’s excellent cast were emotionally honest and perfectly timed, and the evening was pure pleasure.

Alicia Dunfee graces the stage of Boulder’s Dinner Theatre often, most recently imbuing the title role in Hello, Dolly! with charm, wit and style, and bringing a signature mix of showmanship and wistfulness to all of her performances. But Dunfee, who’s been a steady presence at BTD for fifteen years, does more than act, dance and sing. She directs, and she’s also largely responsible for one of the most important elements of a musical: choreography. If you notice the way the big numbers show off the stronger dancers while skillfully deploying the less fleet of foot, you’re seeing Dunfee’s work. And when everyone’s hoofing it up like crazy and you can’t stop grinning because both you and the cast are having such a great time, you have Dunfee to thank.

A suave, handsome Hitchcock hero in The 39 Steps; the harassed playwright-carpenter Peter Quince in A Midsummer Night’s Dream; Adam, a self-effacing academic, in Mariela in the Desert; a brilliant and famous London playwright watching his life spiral out of control in Tom Stoppard’s The Real Thing: Sam Gregory is nothing if not versatile, as he showed in the Denver Center Theatre Company’s most recent season. Understated, often sardonic, he’s one of those skilled actors who knows when to focus attention on himself and when to cede it to others, and who will fit himself into a role rather than twist every role to fit his own persona.

After thirty years, the Denver Center Theatre Company is still going strong, with many more triumphs than stumbles in this past season. While Dracula may have been boring and Othello underwhelming, the company gave us a hilarious Hitchcock spoof, The 39 Steps, as well as The Catch, an excitingly theatrical world premiere about baseball, the farcical Reckless, and an absolutely gorgeous — beautifully designed and wonderfully acted — Midsummer Night’s Dream.

You don’t get serious political theater around here much — the last we can remember were two productions of My Name Is Rachel Corrie, one of which showed in Denver a couple of years back, and one later in Boulder. But then The Container arrived at the 73rd Avenue Theatre Company. Staged in a large shipping container, this play packs actors and audience members together in claustrophobic half-darkness and tells the story of several desperate souls who have risked everything to flee the poverty and repression of their homelands and create new lives in the United Kingdom. The characters include Mariam, who saw her husband beheaded by the Taliban, and a mother and daughter fleeing the squalid conditions of a refugee camp in Somalia. In most countries, the conversation about immigration is narrow, filled with false assumptions, often racist; this company deserves kudos for showing how complex the issue really is and the profound moral dilemmas it poses.

With its white pillars, square of green and blue patch of water, as well as foliage-shadowed trellises to the side, John Iacovelli’s exquisite set for the Denver Center Theatre Company’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream played on the contrast between hyper-civilized Athens and the wild woodlands beyond, in which all kinds of sexy and supernatural things could happen.

You never find out why the clown suffering a gunshot wound when Jamin Winans’s spectacular Uncle Jack opens in medias res is, you know, dressed as a clown, but that’s part of what makes this short film so great: Things are not really explained. Rather, they’re hinted at through the titular uncle telling his niece a bedtime story via Bluetooth while being chased by gun-wielding debt collectors, eventually into a very recognizable Flossy McGrew’s (how could it not be?), where he concludes that the prince “was addicted to gambling, he drank too much, ran a failed carpet-cleaning business and lived happily ever after in a far-off land.” Written, directed, shot and scored by Winans — the auteur who gave the same treatment to the Denver-shot, virally pirated Ink last year — it’s an absurd, hilarious, surreal and touching story whose beautiful cinematography uses its four-minute run time to make a handful of downtown locales look about as good as they ever have.

It took the Denver Art Museum over a century to finally decide that photography deserved its own department. The first step was to hire a curator: Eric Paddock, who used to fill the same role at the Colorado Historical Society. To create the new department (previously, photography had been split between several), Paddock looted the museum’s storerooms for treasures, many of which hadn’t been seen for many years, if ever. The resulting show, Exposure: Photos From the Vault, featured many of the pillars of photo history, including Eadweard Muybridge, Ansel Adams, Alexander Rodchenko and Garry Winogrand, as well as some of Colorado’s top photographers, such as Kevin O’Connell, Ruth Thorne-Thomsen, Ronald Wohlauer, Robert Adams, Laura Gilpin, George Woodman and Wes Kennedy. Paddock’s work on this first effort for his department indicates that there will be many more great things coming; we can’t wait to see what develops.

Denver’s wizard with PhotoShop — as well as makeup and costuming — is John Bonath, whose solo Blurring the Edges filled the funky and charming Camera Obscura Gallery to its rafters with magic-realist photos of people in oddball settings. To produce his images, Bonath sets up scenes using actual materials, then makes up his models and dresses — or undresses — them before taking multiple shots and combining them in a computer, creating montages. Sometimes he even goes in and paints the images after they’ve been printed. Though not a retrospective, the show included several bodies of work by Bonath that spanned the last few decades, providing some nostalgic history for a gallery that’s been the city’s photo specialist since the 1970s but will soon be closing for good.

For whatever reason — maybe because of the way the mountains stand out crisply and firmly against the sky — hard-edge abstraction has deep roots in Colorado, going back more than half a century to the work of Aspen’s Herbert Bayer. Other artists in the state who have embraced the approach include Angelo de Benedetto, Otto Bach, Bev Rosen, George Woodman, Clark Richert and David Yust. And straight lines and sharp edges still have their fans, as evidenced by the work of Pard Morrison, a leader in the current generation of Colorado artists who could be called hard-edged abstractionists. At the Edge of the World, his show at Rule Gallery when it was still located on Broadway (it’s relocating to RiNo this spring) represented something of a breakthrough for Morrison, with his checkerboard paintings turning into checkerboard sculptures. Based on the sumptuous works in this show, that was clearly the best move that Morrison could have made.

Not only were Colorado artists marginalized by the Biennial of the Americas, but so were local galleries. This situation inspired Bobbi Walker to mount an unofficial Biennial entry at her namesake gallery. Perceptions included abstract wall installations by Sabine Aell and sculptures by Kim Ferrer and John Murphy. But the tour de force was a hyperrealist installation of people around a tree made of paper by Emma Hardy, which was both staggeringly accomplished and very ambitious. Just like Walker’s effort to go it alone alongside the Biennial.

So few people went to see The Nature of Things, the official show connected with last summer’s Biennial of the Americas, that the admission fee was waived for the final days of its run. That was a smart move, because the show was too good to miss. It was put together by a young, hot-shot curator from Mexico, Paola Santoscoy, who was fresh out of grad school at the California College of Art. In the few short months she had to throw the exhibit together, she invited artists from all over the United States and Latin America to participate, and got an impressive roster. In fact, if there was one shortcoming to The Nature of Things, it was the fact that only two Colorado artists made the cut: Clark Richert and Joseph Shaeffer. Since the Biennial had turned its back on locals in general, Denverites repaid that snub by turning their back on the Biennial.

Though it started up just over a year ago, the Ice Cube Gallery has already made its mark not just in RiNo, but in Denver’s art world as well. This is partly because of the obvious talent of the co-op’s members, who include Sophia Dixon Dillo, Theresa Anderson, Karen Roehl, Carol Browning, Katie Caron, Michael Gadlin, Ray Tomasso and Regina Benson. But it’s also because of the swank and enormous exhibition space that Ice Cube occupies in a handsome red-brick building that was once a dry ice factory; this impressive facility puts every other Denver co-op to shame.

For one of the most important exhibits ever presented in Denver, Moore in the Gardens, curated by Anita Feldman, a substantial group of monumental pieces by Henry Moore, the greatest modernist sculptor England has ever produced, were brought together. The large works, which looked sort of like three-dimensional versions of Picasso’s surrealist paintings, were artfully scattered around the beautiful grounds of the Denver Botanic Gardens. During the Blossoms of Light holiday display, it was possible to view them at night and covered with snow — a stunning sight. But even better was the view in the spring, when the gardens bloomed not just with flowers, but with art, too.

The evocative — and provocative — title of Even Younger Than Jesus, presented over the holidays at Robischon Gallery, Denver’s flagship art venue, referred to the fact that Christ was said to have been crucified at the age of 33, so everyone featured in this wide-ranging group show was that age or younger. While artists from around the country were featured, many were from right here in Colorado — with a significant number of those relatively recent graduates of the Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design. Even Younger Than Jesus included such artists as William Lamson, Sterling Crispin, Noah Manos, Christine Buchsbaum, Letha Wilson, Zach Burk, Derrick Velasquez, Brandon Bultman and, last but hardly least, Ian Fisher. The graying art scene is always on the lookout for fresh young talent, and this show was packed with it.

Randy Roberts is a bohemian’s bohemian, so it’s surprising to some that he’s also clearly an art connoisseur. A couple of years ago, he added Z Art Department to his mini-modernist shopping center on Speer Boulevard that also includes Zeitgeist and Z Modern, shops devoted to vintage and contemporary design, respectively. As can be inferred by its name, Z Art Department sells art — but the name doesn’t hint at the broad range of Colorado artists you can find here. The gallery has devoted solos to Al Wynne, Herbert Bayer, Dale Chisman, Edward Marecak, Roland Detre, Winter Prather and others. And while shows at places like the Kirkland feature works that have already been snatched up by somebody else, at Z Art Department you can still snag some masterpieces for yourself.

When Vance Kirkland, Denver’s premier mid-century modernist painter, died in 1981, he left his estate of magnificent watercolors and paintings to Hugh Grant — the artist’s longtime friend who is decidedly not the well-known actor with the same name. In the late 1990s, Grant decided to share the collection with the public, a decision that resulted in the founding of the Kirkland Museum of Fine & Decorative Art several years later. But Grant didn’t stop with showing all those Kirklands; he also began to acquire work by other artists from Colorado’s glorious past. Today it’s almost impossible to list the scores of local art stars represented in the Kirkland’s impressive collection; there are pieces by William Sanderson, Edward Marecak, Nadine Drummond, Gene Matthews and Roland Detre, to name just a few. The Kirkland also has genuine depth in Colorado ceramics, with many works by the likes of Betty Woodman and Nan and Jim McKinnell, among a host of others. Since most Denver institutions long ago abrogated their responsibility to the art of our state, it’s great to see the Kirkland so ably filling the breach.

Out-of-this-world mayoral candidate Jeff Peckman has gotten face time on The Daily Show (back when he was pushing a Denver ballot initiative calling for Safety Through Peace) and Late Night With David Letterman, where he touted his proposal that the city create an Extraterrestrial Affairs Commission. But his best-timed appearance may have been in the movie trailer for Battle: Los Angeles, from an interview done back in December — before he had any thoughts of running for mayor, Peckman assures us, but released right after Peckman made the 2011 ballot. Too bad the movie crashed.

The artist at the center of Charles Deas and 1840s America had quite a story. Charles Deas was from a once-prominent family in Philadelphia; after studying art in New York, he headed out west to record the previously undocumented people and places in the area. And then, after producing a body of incredibly accomplished work on the Indians and the wilderness where they lived, he was declared insane and committed to the Bloomingdale Asylum at the ripe old age of 29. He was still institutionalized at Bloomingdale when he died nineteen years later. (Deas’s depictions of Indian braves as either beefcake studs or dreamy twinks give us more than a hint at what his “mental” problem was.) This major scholarly undertaking was put together by the world’s foremost Deas scholar, Carol Clark, and it was a worthy salute to someone who helped invent the genre of Western art, an approach that is still going strong a century and a half later.

When Rock Island closed in 2006 after a long, legendary run, it left a big hole in the gothic and industrial community. While there are still rumors that Rock Island will one day start up again, it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. In the meantime, for those who frequented the legendary club on 15th Street, there’s a good chance you’ll run into somebody you know at Milk on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when the club hosts ’80s & ’90s Retro/Goth nights. Resident DJ Mike Rich spins a thoroughly decent set of new wave from the Reagan era, with a bit of old-school goth thrown in; Paul Italiano, FashioNation owner, spins at the club once a month. (Both Rich and Italiano are former Rock Island DJs.) While Milk, with its Clockwork Orange theme, is a bit small, it’s still a great spot to get your retro dance on and hang with a fascinating mix of folks, some decked out in full goth regalia.

Keeping abstraction new and different has led to the development of neo-modernism, which harks back to the mid-twentieth century but looks thoroughly modern at the same time. That’s surely the case with Colorado’s own Emilio Lobato, the subject of not one, but two solo shows right now. At the venerable Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, there’s Mi Linda Soledad/My Beautiful Solitude, a retrospective of Lobato’s work from the early ’80s to 2009, while the William Havu Gallery here in Denver is featuring Casi, Casi, showcasing work done after that. Lobato’s pieces invariably refer to his roots in the San Luis Valley, typically through the use of Spanish titles and somber palettes — but the paintings themselves have an international flavor incorporating various abstract influences, notably minimalism and expressionism. And he resolves these opposites brilliantly.

Metropolitan State College of Denver — perhaps soon to be known as Denver State University — has the largest set of art departments in Colorado, with something like a thousand art majors. That’s surely one of the reasons that Merge, a group show devoted to the efforts of Metro’s alums, was so damn strong: An amazing number of artists have graduated from the school over the years. Presented at Metro’s own little museum, the Center for Visual Art, this was a juried event with founding art-department chair Barbara Houghton and current chair Greg Watts calling the shots; the show included the work of Phil Bender, Lauri Lynnxe Murphy, Sean Rozales, Merlin Madrid, Luzia Ornelas, Evan Colbert, Heidi Jung, Josiah Lopez, Mary Cay, Mark Friday, Dave Seiler, Jennifer Jeannelle and many others. No matter what name Metro goes by, its artistic impact on Denver is undeniable.

The late Dale Chisman was a giant in Denver’s art world. Not only was he one of the state’s most significant abstractionists, he was also an advocate for the arts who championed the work of emerging artists and was among the founders of Museum of Contemporary Art Denver, where his memorial service was held shortly after he died in 2008. Soon afterward, plans were laid for a show saluting Chisman’s own astounding contributions. The resulting exhibit, mounted at RedLine, was organized by Jennifer Doran, co-owner of Robischon Gallery, which represents the artist’s estate. It was an over-the-top effort, not just because of the high quality of works in the show, but also because the organizers pulled out all the stops. Dale Chisman in Retrospect included not just the painter’s creations since the ’70s, but a high-quality catalogue, a panel discussion, and even a jazz concert featuring a suite of tunes penned by Chisman’s composer/musician son-in-law, Matt Jorgensen, responding to his life and work. This past year, there wasn’t another solo that even came close to this retrospective. It was a fitting send-off to a fine artist.

Christo and his late wife, Jeanne-Claude, first achieved worldwide fame with “Valley Curtain,” a project they carried out in Colorado in the 1970s. For that massive work, the pair suspended an enormous drapery across Rifle Gap in the western portion of the state. Thirty years later, they again looked to Colorado for what will surely be one of their last pieces, “Over the River.” To explicate and promote this proposal, the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver presented a spectacular show of Christo’s stunning presentation drawings. If the project comes to fruition (the final decision is due this spring), “Over the River” would comprise canopies of silvery fabric stretched across the Arkansas River in southern Colorado. And judging from the Over the River show, Colorado could be in for one of the best art events in its history, one that would rank right up there with “Valley Curtain.”

Back in 1968, a group of local sculptors and their friends from around the country descended on Burns Park, a triangular patch of turf bounded by Colorado Boulevard, Alameda Avenue and Leetsdale Drive, and erected a series of minimalist sculptures for the first — and only — Denver Sculpture Symposium. One of those sculptors was Anthony Magar of New Mexico, whose work caught the eye of art collectors Susanne and Lloyd Joshel; they commissioned Magar to do a piece for the lawn of their modernist home nearby. When Susanne died a couple of years ago (Lloyd had already passed away), she left her Magar to the city so that it could be installed in Burns Park. Last summer, the untitled sculpture was put in a spot just east of Colorado Boulevard, where it stands out as one of the best pieces in that very public, outdoor gallery.

Denver’s Biennial of the Americas came and went last year without leaving any real mark on the community — except for the Chevy that’s mounted above a reflecting pool across from the Museum of Contemporary Art Denver. The idea of having a car aiming at the ground is simple, yet “Between Life and Death” is very impressive. It was created by Gonzalo Lebrija, a Mexican artist best known for his photos and videos — until this sculpture quickly became his most significant and renowned work. Although the piece does not yet have a permanent parking spot in Denver, it could still land one, creating at least one legacy from the Biennial.

“The Red Forest” sprouted up last year near the west steps of the Millennium Bridge in the Platte Valley, adding another exemplary piece of public art to Denver’s collection. Using synthetic rods colored red, Egypt-born Australian artist Konstantin Dimopoulos mounted clusters that look like clumps of reeds to create “The Red Forest.” When the air is still, the clustered rods soar above our heads, but when the wind kicks up, they sway and move. Since spotlights are an integral feature, the view also changes drastically at night, when the red rods catch the rays in such a way that they seem internally lit. The work, funded by the Riverfront Park Community Foundation, was selected by the Denver Office of Cultural Affairs, and in this case, DOCA made an illuminating choice.

Denver has an abundance of arts districts — there’s the town’s biggest, along Santa Fe Drive, one in LoDo and another in RiNo; there are arts districts in Cherry Creek North and along Tennyson Street, among other places. But for a true arts district, it’s impossible to beat the Golden Triangle, the area circumscribed by Broadway, Colfax Avenue and Speer Boulevard — because that’s where the Denver Art Museum is located. This neighborhood is also home to the art-collecting Denver Public Library and the soon-to-be-completed Clyfford Still Museum. But not only does the Golden Triangle boast important buildings filled with art, it also has some of the town’s top commercial galleries, too, including the William Havu Gallery, Walker Fine Art and Z Art Department. And just across Broadway — technically a few yards outside the Golden Triangle — the new History Colorado museum is nearing completion. All of Denver’s arts districts contribute to the cultural life of the Mile High City, but the Golden Triangle is the one to beat.

Most of the masters of Denver’s current photo scene weren’t even born when now-ninety-something Hal Gould opened his House of Photography in Cherry Creek in 1955. And he was an accomplished photographer long before that, having gotten his first camera in 1932. He went on to help establish the Colorado Photographic Arts Center in 1963, mounting shows as the exhibition director of the group, and then in 1979, he opened his Camera Obscura Gallery directly across from the Byers-Evans House, just west of the Denver Art Museum. In the intervening decades, Gould put together one impressive show after another, some highlighting the efforts of internationally known photography stars, others featuring works by top Colorado shutterbugs. And Gould would probably keep going for decades more, but with a weak art market as a result of the recession — not to mention that he’s really earned a rest — he and partner Loretta Young-Gautier recently decided to close the gallery. The term “end of an era” is thrown around a lot, but this time that poignant phrase is the perfect description of what’s going to happen when Gould finally locks up Camera Obscura at the end of April.

November was a banner month for John Hickenlooper: The beer-brewer-turned-mayor stepped into the big leagues of politics with his actual election to the office of governor of Colorado, as well as through his fantasy role as a U.S. senator in Casino Jack, directed by his cousin, director George Hickenlooper, who passed away shortly before the film played the Starz Film Festival. In one of the movie’s best scenes — a daydream sequence in which Jack Abramoff, played by the always-fantastic Kevin Spacey, goes off on John McCain (via real footage) in a Senate hearing — Hick plays the nameless senator sitting next to McCain’s double. His performance mostly consists of looking grave and saying something like “Seize that man” (it’s hard to tell; there’s other dialogue over the line), but Hickenlooper’s silver-screen legacy will live on — at least until it’s eclipsed by him actually becoming a U.S. senator. And with a look that grave, we wouldn’t rule it out.

River North, with its active enclave of studios and workshops, has always stood by its motto “Where Art Is Made.” But increasingly, it’s also where art is seen, as more and more galleries open their doors in the neighborhood. These days, the funky and the tony rub elbows happily in RiNo, as evidenced by the recent move to the area by the highly regarded Rule Gallery, hot on the heels of the more freewheeling Wazee Union’s debut. They could, in fact, change that motto to “Where All Art Is Made,” as the district has morphed over the past few years into a beehive of creative — and connected — endeavors. Charge on, RiNo!

Sculptor Mike Whiting’s monumental, weathered and pixel-shaped “Rhino,” installed last year at 24th and Larimer streets and sponsored by the Broadway Viaduct Lower Maintenance District, creates an incredible entry to the RiNo Art District. The tough-as-nails, sky-blue steel ungulate polices the intersection fiercely yet comically, as if daring you to come in. Don’t mind if we do.

Perhaps because Denver is not particularly known for its street art, let alone its rich cache of artists and photographers, Month of Photography promoter Mark Sink and Illiterate Gallery decided to do something to help change the way the nation — make that the world — views us. And how. Together, they masterminded and provided the local manpower for a global exchange of photographic images, collectively titled The Big Picture, that have been blown up, Xeroxed and wheat-pasted on walls and billboards not just across Denver, but in some international locations. Photos by our local artists now grace billboards in Switzerland, while works by foreign photographers are all over our town. And lucky us: We get to find — by chance or with the Google map provided — amazing images in the most unexpected places.

Slapped up boldly on the backside of the Ellie Caulkins Opera House along Champa Street, the massive “Faces of Colorado Art” is a tribute to the region’s talented creative pool, a who’s who checkerboard of local artwork and artist portraits. Thank the Denver Theatre District, which worked with Plus Gallery’s Ivar Zeile to put the cultural patchwork together, for a beautiful reminder that Denver artists rock.

The underground creative collective of Tuyet Nguyen, Matt Scobey and Tony Farfalla excels at kicking ideas around. One of them, to tear down gallery walls, both real and subjective, and hang art in the streets, took shape when they traveled down to Miami Beach with an artist entourage to do that very thing, during the annual citywide arts fair Art Basel Miami Beach. They hauled in a batch of submitted Denver artworks, hit the dollar store for buckets and wheat paste, found a wall and went to work, pasting up the art in an alley in the dark of night and documenting it all on video. Talk about an art attack!

The work of Viviane le Courtois is all about community, waste, decay and everyday things, and those themes followed through in her RedLine installation How to Eat an Artichoke?, a complex study of the community of eating and its by-products. The exhibit began with an elaborately set, completely hand-built beetle-kill pine table, set with homemade ceramics and other accoutrements made of natural materials, including baskets of sumac branches, yucca and mulberry paper. A group came together to eat artichokes at the table; the scraped artichoke leaves that remained from their feast were left in the baskets to dry and curl up. While film documented the lovely, communal breaking of bread, the leftover leaves spoke of what happens after the feast. The whole thing was beautiful food for thought.

It’s easy to dis a gallery run by the young and penniless. They’re young and penniless. They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re taking a gamble on unproven artists. But Illiterate is proof that all you really need to survive the gallery jungle is an unwavering commitment to promoting those very artists who might not otherwise find a niche. And that’s just what Illiterate director Adam Gildar, with help from Joe Wall, Sander Lindeke and a bunch of friends, does at this gallery: He’s created a welcoming place where young artists can stretch their wings, make a splash and, with luck, even make a sale. By offering studio residencies that culminate in exhibits, the folks at Illiterate support their ideals with real movement and wonderful shows. Illiterate won a Westword MasterMind award this year, and with good reason.

Not every couple chooses to open a gallery in their own home, but leave it to design-savvy Tran and Josh Wills to do just that. No sooner had they finished fixing up and settling into their urban family dream home in RiNo, but they opened up Super Ordinary Gallery in hopes of promoting downtown style, artists and ideals to the public. These are people who get things done: Tran, a Westword MasterMind, is the brain behind the former Fabric Lab and a zillion other local fashion, art and design projects; Josh is a forward-thinking graphic designer. So despite its name, we’re expecting big things from Super Ordinary.

S. Brian Smith and Neil Adam wheel and deal real estate, but to them, a building isn’t just a building. When they saw an empty warehouse and former factory wasting away down by the railroad tracks off of Brighton Boulevard, they envisioned creating something modern and bold, a community-builder with a concrete floor. And so Wazee Union was born. Inspired by such communal artist colonies as the Third Ward in Brooklyn, they sectioned off nearly fifty studio spaces of varying sizes and rented them, cheap, to artists, crafters, designers and creative small businesses. Not surprisingly, those spaces were snapped up like that and are now rarely empty for more than a couple of days. But artists don’t just work here; they also show their work: The thriving community hosts juried gallery shows, Second Saturday open houses and other arts-oriented events. The project has been so successful that Walnut Workshop, a sister enclave, is now open right across the tracks, and Smith and Adam have plans for more retooled properties in the works.

Have zines, will travel. The Denver Zine Library has gone from a garage in the Baker neighborhood to a storefront in Highland to the Other Side Arts on Platte Street into limbo, shutting down in the summer of 2009 when it could no longer pay rent. But a year later, the underground project resurfaced: DZL co-founder Kelly Shortandqueer has unpacked the boxes of DIY music rags, public diaries, comix, chapbooks and other low-tech literary matter at 27 Social Centre, a gathering place and workspace for left-leaning businesses and organizations. And once again, DZL is on a roll, hosting readings with touring zinesters and looking forward to the next chapter.

At one point, Julie Zorrilla, the twenty-year-old Denver School of the Arts alumna featured on this round of American Idol, was our odds-on favorite to win the whole competition and become the franchise’s next breakout act. We can dream, can’t we? Although Zorrilla was eliminated, we’re sure we haven’t heard the last of her, or her stunning original material. And no matter where she goes from here, she’s earned her place as the most dapper reality-show contestant our fine state has ever produced. Her fashion sense was repeatedly remarked upon by new Idol judges J. Lo and the pervy, tongue-wagging Steven Tyler. You go, girl!

At 10 p.m. on any given Monday night, the corner of Tenth and Santa Fe is a pretty quiet place. But don’t let that fool you: Inside Interstate Kitchen & Bar, the weekly Rock ‘N’ Roll Spelling Bee is buzzing. The brainchild of bartender Kevin Galaba, the bee, accompanied by a soundtrack favoring the likes of Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis (hence the name), is the place to bring your spelling smarts. But leave your stage fright at home: The RNR is one laid-back bee, done at your seat with pencil and paper. That means you don’t have to leave your drink — like the buck-fifty Lone Stars on special — unattended to recite (or screw up) your word in front of an audience. Prizes are awarded for good spelling and even good penmanship. Can you spell F-U-N?

It’s one thing to hear about the four elements of hip-hop or even to experience them peripherally. Driving around town, you might admire the elaborately scrawled graffiti while listening to someone on the radio rapping. And if you’ve been to a club, chances are you’ve danced to a DJ or maybe even watch somebody breakdance. It’s another thing entirely to experience hip-hop culture in the flesh. And thanks to Delfino “Fienz” Rodriguez, a true-school dyed-in-the wool b-boy, the community has a chance to do just that at Mighty 4 Denver, the free annual b-boy jam that takes place every summer in the heart of downtown. This past July, b-boys and b-girls of all ages showcased their individual breakdance style in front of a captive audience of awestruck onlookers. We look forward to seeing them again this year.

Jaime Kopke came and Jaime Kopke went; after the local design blogger gifted Denver with a popular Pecha Kucha series and the ephemeral Denver Community Museum pop-up venue, she shut down the popular hands-on people’s museum and headed off to England for grad school. It was a long year, but now Kopke’s back and working with local museums to create new participatory art experiences for regular folks. Since her return, she’s offered assistance at the Denver Art Museum’s monthly Untitled event and co-hosted a DIY sweater-repair event; we can’t wait to see what’s next on her agenda.

There was no shortage of memorable concerts over the past year, with shows ranging from Lady Gaga at the Pepsi Center to LCD Soundsystem at the Fillmore to Gorillaz at Wells Fargo. But none were quite as memorable as this one. Three decades after Pink Floyd first conceived this production, technology finally caught up to the original vision, and Roger Waters brought the whole spectacle to life with flawless precision. From the opening explosions of “In the Flesh,” complete with a WWII-era biplane dive-bombing the partially erected wall, to the closing notes of “Outside the Wall,” the evening was positively mesmerizing. The sound wasn’t just good — it was an expansive, enthralling, spectral, three-dimensional experience. Combined with the stunning visuals, pyrotechnics, inflatable creatures and airborne pig, it was like watching a digitally remastered version of The Wall in 5.1 surround with thousands of your friends.

Once upon a time, the coffee shop was a place for anyone with a guitar and a decent voice to take a stab at performing. Starbucks all but eliminated this concept in the ’90s, though, replacing it with purchasable music-that-fits-a-lifestyle compilations. So in 2010, who better to play at a Starbucks (at 934 16th Street) than nervesandgel, resident noise creator and supreme in-your-face performer? Imagine walking into Starbucks, ready to throw down your hard-earned five bucks on a venti caramel soy latte and instead being hit by a wall of sound and a man on the floor screaming about cats. It totally happened, and we were so glad it awkwardly did.

Not so long ago, no one would have predicted that these shows would ever have happened. But Andrew Novick and Daniel Wanush put aside any rancor still outstanding from the Warlock Pinchers’ 1992 breakup and performed a one-off collaborative show with Wanush’s dancehall group, Murder Ranks. When that proved to be entirely too much fun, the Pinchers pulled together all the original members and played a surprise show at the Lion’s Lair, followed by three gala shows at the Gothic, proving that reunion shows don’t have to just be nostalgic — they can be as great or better than the first chapter.

Fans of house music were ecstatic when they discovered that well-respected DJ Doc Martin and the long-dormant Dubtribe Sound System would be visiting Casselman’s for an event titled simply “LOVE.” And it was impossible not to feel the love while hearing the music wash over the crowd. Martin charmed with a mixture of old-school and brand-new tracks, exhibiting his mastery over vinyl and turntables as he warmed up the audience. Then came the amazing display of Dubtribe: Sunshine and Moonbeam Jones sat on a rug, surrounded by equipment and hand drummers pounding out the beat as they created their funky tribal house sound live using computers, mixers, samplers and more. The energy the pair generated was clean and uplifting, and while fire-spinners danced in the corner and a giant custom-made LED heart flashed and throbbed above them, they cast a LOVE spell on everyone at Casselman’s that night.

Founded in 1953 as the Mines Chamber Ensemble, the Jefferson Symphony Orchestra has evolved into the toast of Golden, thriving in an era when even big-name orchestras are struggling to fill the seats. Chalk it up to the dedication of nearly a hundred talented musicians who volunteer long hours to the cause; stability at the helm (conductor William Morse has been the maestro in these parts since 1999); a commitment to a distinguished young artists competition; and a real connection to a community that loves the orchestra’s fine-tuned blend of pops, holiday and classical fare.

One step into the Brass Tree house and what sets this makeshift venue apart is immediately apparent: There are cameras everywhere. The free shows at the house venue are all recorded and quickly turned around as short, film-style pieces of music history. Only three episodes into its series, Brass Tree has already captured legendary performances by Hot White, Thee Goochi Boiz and SAUNA. Just goes to show what dudes with cool day jobs can do when they combine those skills with a passion for music.

We’ve gone hoarse yodeling the praises of Dana Cain, giving her a cover story and an honorary MasterMind award, but all for good reason: The local event promoter and patron of the arts is having the biggest year yet in her storied career of celebrating all things Denver with Barnum-esque hoopla and a modern quirkiness. Her roster of new and ongoing events just continues to roll out: Vintage Voltage! The Denver Style Expo! The Colorado Chocolate Festival! The Denver County Fair! The Denver Modernism Show! And more, more, more! Dana wants to put this city on the map, and she’s giving us plenty of pins with which to do it. Step right up.

As an engineering student at the prestigious School of Mines, Tim Weilert has no business being a successful blogger. It’s hard to imagine how he finds the time to write about local music on Something Like Sound. At least for the first part of the blog’s existence, he had help: Together with Spencer Nelson and Jake Rezac, he built a go-to destination for show reviews and an expertly picked selection of local releases. Something Like Sound even managed to release a pair of free compilations, both featuring all-star lineups. When Weilert graduates in May, it’s unlikely that anyone will be able to replace him on this Mines blog. But he’s drilled deep over the past two years, and exposed as rich a vein of music blogging as you’re likely to find.

Nathaniel Rateliff has had a banner year. He became chummy with Mumford & Sons and made tons of other friends on the road, including such kindred artists as the Delta Spirit. On the strength of his excellent Rounder Records debut, In Memory of Loss, the erstwhile Born in the Flood frontman captured the attention of everyone from Amazon.com, which listed his album as the number-one album you might have missed in 2010, to the New York Times, which pushed his show in the Big Apple, to Mojo, which gave his record a four-star review. But his biggest coup to date — and there’s a certain irony attached to this — is the fact that Robert Plant (cover boy of the Mojo featuring the four-star review) listed Rateliff’s song “Early Spring Till” at number one on his celebrity iTunes playlist, calling it “empty, fragmented and poignant.”

Thurston Moore and Byron Coley surprised just about everyone when they picked local band Caldera Lakes (aka Eva Aguila and Brittany Gould) as one of their favorite things in their monthly Tongue Top Ten column in Arthur magazine last year. And later, when Sonic Youth played the Ogden Theatre, rather than have a more conventional touring band open the show, the alt-rock greats invited Caldera Lakes to open. The gesture not only highlighted the quality of that duo, but also showed that Thurston Moore is still connected to real underground music.

Whether this dude is partying hard in Moscow or shooting couches with a shotgun between shows in Alaska, Pictureplane is always talking about Denver. The Rhinoceropolis inhabitant has been going his own way for the better half of a decade, but as his goth star has risen, so has the promotion of his adopted home town. Mr. Plane, aka Travis Egedy, celebrates what’s good in the community from which he emerged, making Denver-centric mixes for Fader and spreading the cassette-tape gospel that is Hideous Men, Alphabets and Hollagramz to kids overseas. Denver has enjoyed the benefits of his cheerleading, too, as national bands have made Rhinoceropolis a must-stop on the DIY touring circuit.

Kevin Kain is not your typical party promoter. Not only is he part of a team of folks who frequently and consistently pack Denver’s hottest hip-hop nights, but he manages to stay on point with his Facebook game, ranting with the eloquence of a judge and the lexicon of a journalist. Whether it’s about the club fuckery he experiences or a hilarious observation on society, Kain incites conversation and inspires swift reactions. Though full of charm and niceties in person, Kain uses his Facebook status as a bully pulpit — and people crowd around for the sermon.

As a local activist raising community awareness of inner-city topics, Cavem Moetavation uses every tool he can. He frequently pops up in person at hip-hop shows to spit out a rhyme or two, and he works with programs such as Art From Ashes. In everything he does, Cavem is an ambassador for the hip-hop world and an upstanding representative of his art — so where does he ever find all the time to update his Facebook status? With videos, songs, notes, constant friend requests, tons of photos and shout-outs, he keeps the community together while pushing it forward.

As both a producer and a DJ of the so-hot-it’s-on-fire dubstep sound, Alert is taking the subgenre to new heights — or, more appropriately, to deep, wobbly, bass-thumping lows. You can tell by listening that Alert is a big horror-movie fan; his tracks are like stepping into a nightmare, but in a good way. The ominous bass tones meld with monster-like noises, slurping sounds, crunching beats and freaky keyboard notes that will send shivers down your spine — and your feet pounding to the dance floor. Via his Oblivion Fringe label, Alert is also bringing similarly minded dubstep DJs and producers into the limelight. Who knew dubstep could sound this good?

If Frank Sinatra produced hip-hop songs, Qknox, one-third of the beat-making/production team GirlGrabbers, would be his direct offspring. Classy, charming, debonair and erudite, Qknox taps into his inherent love for music in order to deliver some of the most progressive and distinctive hip-hop translations to come out of Colorado. Displaying exceptional flair on several hit-making projects, including FOE’s Sucks to Be You and Debriefing and Cocktails, by GirlGrabbers, Qknox has developed an individual production touch that is unmistakable. The brilliance of his production almost sneaks up on you — but once it takes hold, the Qknox imprint cannot be denied.

Both collage and multimedia artists in their own right, Kristy Foom and Mario Zoots make up Modern Witch, and when the two come together, the magic is multiplied. This act uses alternative modes of recording — like the microphone on an old VHS camera — to capture its dark and warbling down-tempo tracks. Since Foom works out of Amsterdam most of the year, Modern Witch shows in Denver are both rarities and gems: With a rotating cast of musical artisans and a heavy dose of visuals to complement the sounds, no two shows are alike. And even though the group works remotely 90 percent of the time, video and audio releases are plentiful, and everything, down to Modern Witch’s digital tracks, comes with gorgeous collaborative artwork to match.

You really have to see Lunar Fire to understand what’s so special about this collective. You can’t accurately call it a band, because dancers are an integral part of the show, often leading the musical improvisation through movement. And what dancers they are, implementing fantastical costuming, spinning fire, aerial acrobatics and more while the world-jam-rock fusion pounds out behind their graceful gestures. Each member of the group has fingers in several other pies; they all come together in Lunar Fire to cut loose and let the music go where it will. With two percussionists, two vocalists, a bass player, several dancers and a rotating cast of guest musicians playing unusual instruments in the group, you never know where this journey is going to take you — but it’s a given that it will involve deep, inspirational lyrics and some of the sweetest eye candy you’ll ever see.

Winner of Best Scene Enthusiast in 2008, John Baxter has long been a force to be reckoned with in the local music scene, the rare type of promoter whose commitment to the arts outweighs the unsavory connotations of the term “promoter.” And in ZetaKaye House, where he’s teamed up with wife Kim Baxter, he’s really outdoing himself. A merger of Oscar Zeta Acosta (Hunter S. Thompson’s attorney) and Ian MacKaye (Minor Threat and Fugazi frontman and founder of Dischord Records), the name pays tribute to legends of the do-it-yourself movement and does them justice. From movies (the Baxters have been working with the Mayan on an Orson Welles film fest) to music (besides promoting, managing and booking several local bands, they provide recording, lesson and practice space), from Denver to Brooklyn (client Tim Pourbaix stuck with them when he moved there), ZetaKaye House is doing it, and helping you do it, too.

What better band to see on a date than one that sings about awesome dates? With Lust-Cats of the Gutters, the dual vocals of Robin Edwards and Alex Edgeworth are like a personal cheerleading section, singing about really wanting to get to know you, hanging out with your grandma and, eventually, sticking their tongues in your mouth. Or close enough. The duo’s Bratmobile-meets-the-Sonics style works like an intelligent sidekick, a musical wingman that feeds you lines during those awkward moments when you’re just getting to know that special new someone. And if that budding relationship doesn’t work out, you can always console yourself with Lust-Cats’ anti-date anthem, “Nothing Cool Happens on Dates.”

Medical marijuana cardholders, meet your new favorite band: Skully Mammoth. Taking some obvious cues from Sleep and Sabbath, these barely-out-of-high-school dudes make droney, psychotropic rock that just goes on and on and on. And on. If the jammy metal four-piece was never told to stop playing, chances are it probably never would. If you’re into sludge and have an hour or three to kill, Skully Mammoth — formerly known as Black Magicians From the Mountaintops of Mars — has some ten-minute-plus songs that should fill the bill.

While living in the Bay Area, Scott Banning, an associate of Crash Worship, was a member of the Extra Action Marching Band and the San Francisco Taiko Dojo. But it wasn’t until he decided to try to turn Itchy-O from a sit-down musical endeavor into something more visceral — and on the move — that he managed to combine his passions and experience into the perfect project. Initially playing as a surprise guest at other shows, Itchy-O Marching Band has become an unexpected and frequent presence at a broad swath of public events, one that has brought smiles to many faces with its solid marching-band instrumentation and experimental electronic accompaniment.

Molly Bartlett, Samantha Davis, Ethan Hill and CJ Macleod have to be the coolest kids at their high school. By day, they’re regular teenagers; by night, they turn into SAUNA, an intelligent pop band that crams jumpy beats and reverb-heavy guitars into a perfect throwback package. When the band isn’t performing, you can find its members at the foot of stages for Liz Phair, Black Angels and Best Coast shows — doing more music-history homework, the result of which is clearly displayed in their own explosive live sets. If you’re lucky enough to catch SAUNA live, the band just might do an excellent cover of the Who’s “Boris the Spider.” How cool is that?

In 2010, Hot White opened for No Age at the Bluebird and the Warlock Pinchers at the Gothic, but the band is equally content playing basement shows and house parties. Whether climbing tables at the Meadowlark or scraping the cement at Rhinoceropolis, the trio of young punks easily fills any size room with plenty of attitude and noise. The bitter sawing of Tiana Bernard’s bass and vocal wails combined with Kevin Wesley’s back-to-the-floor guitar playing and the smiling terror of Darren Kulback’s drumming make Hot White one of the best live bands to see in Denver any night of the week — on a stage or in your living room.

If you ever had the pleasure of seeing Fellow Citizens perform their ambitious and atmospherically charged pop songs, you can be excused for not expecting what any members of that band might bring to Kevin Costner Suicide Pact. The name of the act is humorous, but it also suggests that the music has a serious side. And while it’s doubtful that the three members of this band grew up listening to Hearts of Space late at night on NPR, you can hear strains of the types of soundscaping that Steve Roach would have explored. Essentially combining ambient space rock with noise, Kevin Costner Suicide Pact is one to keep.

Had Katrina Ford stayed dark and spooky after she parted ways with Lovelife and formed Celebration, that act might have developed a sound similar to that of Holophrase. The angular chilliness of early Magazine and the caustic psychedelic sound of Damon Edge-era Chrome can also be heard as ghostly influences on this band’s overall sound. Stirringly haunting, Holophrase brings together exotic vocals and beautifully menacing instrumentation. Blessed with the enigmatic poise and intensity of a post-punk band of old, the quartet is sure to confirm every suspicion of its gift for darkly beautiful compositions on its upcoming EP.

Throughout September, Turner Jackson roamed the city wearing a sandwich board proclaiming “Freestyles Are Still Free.” His guerrilla rapping approach showcased his ability to rap his face off at will and proved that the art of freestyle is not only alive and well, but integral to your rapping persona. Using pretty much anything around him at the time, Turner — who even filmed a freestyle with Joe Thunder in front of the Westword offices — displayed a frenetic pace and zealous energy, and the campaign came across as both charming and innovative. The few times we ran up on him spitting hot fire on the 16th Street Mall, he was surrounded by a crowd begging for more.

Okay, so none of the dudes actually ending up winning this year, but still, it’s a pretty big deal that five of the dozen contenders at the finals of the DMC World DJ Championships last year in New York City were from Colorado. Even more impressive, while three of those — DJs Notch, Skip Ripkin and B*Money — qualified locally, the other two, Cysko Rokwell and Jeff C, earned their slots by traveling out of state and battling on somebody else’s stamping grounds. Says a lot for the caliber of talent here. Win or lose, it was a good look for Colorado.

Maintaining various residencies at all of the top-notch hip-hop clubs in the city, the Moolah Boyz — Ktone, KDJ Above and DJ Top Shelf — are everywhere, introducing hit songs getting heavy burn in other regions to a Denver crowd while keeping local hip-hop music in heavy rotation. Pooling their collective talents, the three rock clubs, pack venues, make pretty girls dance (even your mother could do the Moolah Shuffle) and break records. The Moolah Boyz have not only created a brand and perfected a concept, but they’ve refined a mentality.

Ahoy! Besides being the only place in the entire world where you can currently go to see real, actual, verifiable pirate treasure — although it’s not the only treasure ever dredged up from a shipwreck, it is the only treasure ever confirmed as having been possessed by pirates — the Denver Museum of Nature & Science is the only place in town where you can see real people employed as pirates. Sort of. They’re actually employed as the pirate equivalent of Civil War re-enactors, but close enough in this landlocked town. As part of its Real Pirates: The Untold Story of the Whydah, the museum hired a bunch of regular folks to dress up and talk like pirates and hang around the exhibit, presumably with the goal of making people either mildly amused or mildly uncomfortable, sort of like clowns. It’s one of the weirder jobs we can think of, but then again, in this kind of economy, it might just be the best alternative to the real thing.

If live instrumentation were a living organism, you would find it alive and well at Appaloosa Grill on Tuesday nights. That’s when the trio of DJ Check One, Charlie Parker Mertens and Qknox join as BigWheel Electrosoul and set the place ablaze with their progressive and confident brand of hip-hop. With Check One on drums, Qknox on keys and Mertens on bass, the threeome serves up classy and innovative music that makes you want to dance — or at least enjoy a drink at the bar. Big Wheel isn’t just a bar-residency band, however; these musicians have a full-length album in the works, not to mention a “brunch” collaboration with DJ Vajra titled The Guac Vol. 1.

Last summer, sketches of various members of the local hip-hop scene — they looked like expertly illustrated police composites — started cropping up as avatars on Facebook, on the pages of everyone from local DJs like Lazy Eyes to local rappers like A.V.I.U.S. The resemblance to these luminaries was uncanny, and everyone instantly wanted to know who was responsible for the drawings. The answer? They were done by Thomas Evans (Hip-Hop Congress) as part of the Colorado Stand Up project, an ambitious effort dedicated to highlighting individual members of the local hip-hop community — everyone from activists, supporters, educators and organizers to MCs, DJs, dancers and graf artists. And with this project, Evans has certainly earned his place among them.

Denver’s hip-hop roots run deep. And if there’s one b-boy who’s doing his part to keep that culture alive, it’s Delfino Rodriguez. Better known in hip-hop circles as Fienz, the graf writer, gifted dancer, Bronx Boys member and Lords of Finesse co-founder is teaching a whole new generation the ways of hip-hop and reaching a whole new audience with the Mighty 4 Denver b-boy summits he’s been pouring his heart, soul and money into for the past three years. The free, annual community event not only creates mainstream exposure for the thriving members of the underground, but it gives cats a chance to meet and chop it up with such b-boy legends as Tony, Trac 2, Mr. Freeze, Paulskee, Yknot, Jojo, Aby and Troll, among others. Hip-hop don’t stop.

Joe Thunder is a staple in the hip-hop scene, whether he’s filming the hottest freestyle ciphers outside of shows or hosting his Lazy Sunday DVD series, which emphasizes the talents of the brightest local stars. Thunder promotes all facets of the scene, everything from rapping and deejaying to graffiti and b-boying. With his trusty camera by his side, he continues to expose the masses to inherent greatness within our community.

When Sole, aka Tim Holland, split from Anticon and moved to Denver, the city got an unusual treat — not just a stellar addition to the hip-hop scene, but a live performer whose progressive attitude toward the music industry has subsequently given us plentiful releases of both the free and for-purchase varieties. His attachment to multimedia projects, public-speaking events and social networking has made Sole a clear, well-spoken voice in the community.

Spoke in Wordz represents the best of a dying art. The importance of oral history isn’t often emphasized, especially in hip-hop, yet there are some performers who can recite the backstory of their favorite MC or most poignant hip-hop moment at the drop of a hat. Spoke is that kind of guy. Not only is he incredibly learned in the foundation of hip-hop, but from a creative standpoint, he puts it down like nobody else. He has a distinct gravel and grime in his voice that makes him instantly recognizable from a song’s first strains. Sometimes he rhymes slow and sometimes he rhymes quick, but he never misses the mark. His most recent effort, Power of Wordz, speaks of his ability not only to collaborate with over twenty different artists on original songs, but also to be compelling on his own.

For Innerstate Ike, hip-hop is deeper than rap. You won’t find this guy spitting melodic rhymes about pretty girls over piano beats; he represents his ‘hood and his movement with thought-provoking lyrics. Ike, a legend in the streets, has earned his stripes. And he’s the epitome of an enterprising, consistent DIY contributor to the local hip-hop scene, always at the ready with a steady stream of new ideas and moneymaking ventures. His latest album, Moolah Music, due out this spring, represents his hustle and his creativity, which are more than a match for his sharp charisma.

At no point did Mr. Pacman actually toss in the towel, but the bit-pop group certainly disappeared for a long while. Then suddenly last year, Mr. Pacman emerged again, this time as a solo act, with a controller and a keytar. Although the band’s raw, ridiculous energy and costumes were all intact, one man now had the reins — and as a result, the reinvented Mr. Pacman was something completely new and different and special, even if it featured a lot of the same songs that Denver has come to know and love. And the moon boots, of course.

The death of Astrophagus was announced in September, and before the body was even cold, in November the majority of the band’s members announced that they were with a new group, Port Au Prince. Usually when there’s this much overlap, the offshoot band ends up sounding exactly like the one from which it was birthed, but somehow Port Au Prince managed to rise up as a truly new act in a very short amount of time. It’s less experimental, more straightforward and, to put it bluntly, better than the old band. Astrophagus is dead; long live Port Au Prince.

BLKHRTS has been around, at least in theory, for the better part of a year — but it wasn’t until this past January that it really found its legs. Until then, BLKHRTS (formerly Black Hearts) was rightly considered by most to be just a side project of Yonnas Abraham, and the group — Abraham, FOE, Karma and Catch Lungs — only made occasional cameos at Abraham’s performances with The Pirate Signal. This year, however, brought BLKHRTS’ debut recording, BLK S BTFL, an utterly riveting rap-rock hybrid that centers on Abraham’s retro-futuristic production, which is both unique and progressive. And live, the crew brings an unbridled energy that’s as ferocious as Onyx, as primal as Body Count and as frenzied and unhinged as Bad Brains. BLKHRTS is clearly no longer anybody’s side anything. Here’s what it is: the most exciting band to emerge in the past year.

Looking for a way to make up for a dip in donations due to the lagging economy, the Denver Zoo came up with an event that’s both money-making and, if things go well, baby-making: the Singles Safari, a one-night party at which 500 men and 500 women wander the zoo, looking for love and stopping by various “Ask Me” stations, where zookeepers explain the horny details of polar-bear breeding and elephant sex. If the singles get lucky and become couples, the zoo also now offers Date Night, which, just like a relationship, is less focused on doing it and more focused on eating dinner by candlelight.

The town’s best new singer-songwriter doesn’t really play shows — but even so, James Cooley, who releases under the Mesita moniker, is one of the most compelling local songwriters in recent memory. With a breathtaking falsetto croon that recalls Bon Iver, he plays a gorgeous brand of folk that will, well, take your breath away. Even more impressive, he performs every instrument on his recordings, which he engineers and produces himself. And what makes the best even better? It won’t cost you a dime to get your hands on his entire discography. You can download it all for free on his website, www.mesitamusic.com, and that includes his brand-new album, Here’s to Nowhere.

Fog is a dangerous entity for fans, especially when the band using it is hell-bent on filling the venue with so much that nobody can see a foot in front of them. Page 27 loves fog, and would use the tool to a degree that would cause permanent blindness if it could. Combined with the chaotic, often headache-inducing music, the fog creates a perfect aural trip that’s sure to cause disorientation, fear, claustrophobia and possibly a little nausea. The effects, though often befuddling, are truly astounding to behold. This is gloom with a view.

A couple years back, Andy Guerrero put his funk band Bop Skizzum on hiatus in order to focus full-time on the understandably pressing matters of being a member of Flobots. But now the Bop is back and — if you’ll forgive the cliché — better than ever. The music is alive with energy, and the band is tackling its business with charm and aplomb. Case in point: The act saw an opportunity to personalize its song “I’m So Much Cooler” for Valentine’s Day. Fans could request a personal message to someone stuck in a crappy relationship, and then the band would make a custom video confessing the sender’s unrequited love. In a world where artists are looking for increasingly creative ways to spread their music, few are doing it better than Bop Skizzum.

From their Capitol Hill apartment, the husband-and-wife duo of Ryan McRyhew and Kristi Schaefer put out music — mostly on cassette tape — on their own Laser Palace label. Each release is a one-of-a-kind work of art in itself: Schaefer crochets some cassette cases, and others are hand-painted by Schaefer’s sister, Gretchen, as well as other artists. Nine-to-fivers by day and punks by night, McRyhew and Schaefer use Laser Palace to share music by their own band, Hideous Men, as well as original work by Mystic Bummer, Iuengliss, Pictureplane and more.

Plastic Sound Supply has not released a bad record. That’s pretty damn admirable, even though the label is only on its twelfth release. But packed inside those dozen albums are some of the best sounds ever to come out of Denver, and like a Fat Cat Records or Warp Records, the label produces a wide variety of music, everything from experimental to folk and electronic. Keenly aware of the state of the industry, Plastic Sound not only releases free streams of all of its records, but also bands together for multimedia efforts, contests and more. It’s clear the folks at Plastic Sound Supply are above the curve when it comes to the talent they release, but what truly sets them apart is their penchant for amazing design and promotion.

Over the past twelve months, Colin Ward — who sometimes goes by Alphabets, or Phonebooks — has released more than a dozen virtual and tangible albums of original work and remixes. His stream-of-consciousness productions combine the rhythmic meditations of rainforest sounds with layers of vocal and electronic loops, which are then expelled in multimedia-packaged albums like the three he’s released most recently: Gembones, Jeweltones and Pirate Life. Calling on such muses as teen pop star Justin Bieber and Ward’s own cats — Thea Claire, Panda and littlefoot — the prolific artist, along with musical collaborator Stephan Herrera, continues to melt our minds with out-of-this-world electronic music that gets updated almost monthly on his Bandcamp page.

DJ Bedz has built quite a name for himself over the years, first as a ubiquitous club DJ and then as the official DJ of the Denver Nuggets, host of White Shadow Radio and on-air mixer on Hot 107. But the most admirable part of his legacy is his support of Safehouse Denver, the nonprofit dedicated to sheltering women and children from domestic violence: Bedz routinely donates 100 percent of the proceeds from the mixtapes he sells at Independent Records to Safehouse.

Mike Marchant is on the short list of Denver musicians who seem like they write great songs in their sleep — but no one is as generous with his talent. In addition to his prolific work as a guitarist-for-hire, Marchant has greatly increased the production of his own band over the past year. Recognizing the increasing impracticality of trying to make money off of releases, he gave his most recent release a different priority: Everything he made from the characteristically brilliant Indulgent Space Folk, Vol. 3 went to benefit local arts charities. Wherever there are people who are passionate about music, Marchant will be there.

There aren’t enough three-inch CDs out there, but there’s a logical explanation for that: Fewer and fewer people have CD players with trays in them, so it can be tough to even track down a way to play a three-inch CD. In typical Ash From Sweat style, this EP was released with lovely, hand-assembled packaging, a lyric sheet and even a spray-painted CD cover. It’s hard to top the boys at Ash From Sweat when it comes to handcrafted design, and it’s nice to know that even though their releases have slowed down a bit, they still have it in them to create the most original, creative packaging in town.

There have been innumerable visually stunning, cool-looking videos made in the history of the format, but rarely is an idea alone impressive. Cue up the Gamits’ video for “This Shell” in your browser, though, and you won’t be treated to a flashy video; instead, you’ll find yourself trying to piece together a puzzle. If you complete the game quickly enough, you’ll win a download of the track. The idea is simple, but absolutely brilliant from a technological and marketing standpoint — and as a bonus, this may very well be one of the only music videos in existence that’s actually fun to watch.

Humor-related studies have explained the dearth of women in comedy by suggesting that jokes are a form of social competition for men, who go for the laughs more often because it elevates them in status among their peers; women, on the other hand, aren’t socialized in the same way. Whatever the case, comedy is a goddamn sausage party — and that’s exactly why the world needs more stuff like Ladies Laugh-In, where women just as cynical, embittered and attention-starved as their male counterparts can get enough stage to go for the big yuks. Started last July by comedienne Heather Snow not long after she got her start at open mikes and decided she wanted to see a little more X-chromosome representation around town, the monthly comedy night dropped anchor at Beauty Bar and immediately took off, hosted by musician Chella Negro and featuring the cream — both male and female — of the local comedy crop. Still, the spotlight here is on the ladies, and they’re using it to shine.

Denver has a rich and vibrant hip-hop history that extends back to the early ’80s — from the days when seminal b-boy crews like D&S Connection, Radio Active and Dancers Unique first held it down to the years when hip-hop was kept alive by such latter-day torch-bearers as LOF (Lordz of Finesse), R-Sinareeo and GWT (Get With This). Likewise, the first and second wave of graf artists from the Reagan era paved the way for the kings of today — not to mention all the dope DJs and MCs who have helped elevate the game over the years. Much of that early history is documented in Musa’s Soulz of the Rockies documentary, with interviews from many of those intimately involved in the early days of the scene. A must-see for fans of local hip-hop.

When Backbeat’s own Tom Murphy and Dane Bernhardt set out to make a documentary about the Colorado music scene, they had a big task ahead of them: Hundreds of bands had come and gone, never seeing their own story told. But the duo took on the massive project with grace, and the resulting Denver Undiscovered is a glimpse into the music created by dozens of bands from Denver, Boulder, Fort Collins and every little space between. Framed by Murphy’s own historical narrative of Denver’s underground creative culture of the past few decades, the film’s heart is a series of interviews and performances. This is an in-depth look at a scene that has often gone unnoticed by the rest of the country.

When the Warlock Pinchers announced they’d be reuniting for two shows in August 2010, Denver exploded with excitement. Then, almost immediately after the shows, Eyeosaur Productions announced that it would be releasing a DVD chronicling the two nights — which led to more explosive anticipation. When the product was finally delivered in December, it combined live footage, behind-the-stage scenes and interviews with everyone involved into what is certainly the best concert documentary that Denver has seen in a very long time. It couldn’t have been easy to capture the pure energy that flowed through the Gothic Theatre those nights, but somehow the Eyeosaur folks managed to do it.

Tjutjuna’s type of psychedelic space rock is a richly realized alloy of edgy darkness and playful exuberance swirling around a bright center of rippling melodies. But rather than go in for one of those retro cover designs that seem to grace the albums of most neo-psychedelic bands lately, the members of Tjutjuna approached their friend Milton Melvin Croissant III, one of the founders of Rhinoceropolis, to create a piece of art that perfectly suited the music within. Appropriately, it features a smiling, rainbow-bespectacled xenomorph that matches the band’s name.

With American Tomahawk, Adam Halferty makes some of Denver’s most beautiful, captivating music. His spartan yet soaring songs burn bright — but once your eyes adjust to the shower of sparks, you realize that those gorgeous melodies illuminate some truly horrific and harrowing shit lurking in the crevices. Like shards of glass baked into hard candy, the lyrics — which reportedly reflect on a child-molester neighbor from when Halferty was growing up in the Ozarks — are unflinching, unnerving and incisive. And “1993,” which debuted last year, was particularly stunning: “Poor rotten soul with no hope, forgot your name/Young little boys on their knees in your house/Did you make men of them?” The chorus pivots on the lines “No one will know, get them while they’re young. You’re free,” before resolving into the last verse: “Now you’re touching the dog and smelling your hands and fucking your sister/Pissing the bed and hiding the sheets and scared of the future/In a house in Missouri is where they found your body.”

Whether intentional or incidental, it seems pretty telling — and ironic — that Universal Records and Flobots parted ways after Survival Story, a thematic, far more carefully crafted and considered (not to mention better-sounding) album than its predecessor, Fight With Tools, which introduced the band to the masses and propelled its creators to fame based largely on the strength of the “Handlebars” single. But Flobots were always about more than just one catchy song, and this album bears that out, from the lyrics to the hidden cross-references to the stunning cover art created by Jonathan Till. What it didn’t have, unfortunately, was another breakout single — and that, it seems, was a deal-breaker for the label. Style clearly trumps substance these days at the majors. The odds of surviving with that sort of superficial approach? Bleak, at best.

Eric Peterson’s final record in his brief but influential career as a Denver musician was lathe-cut rather than pressed in the traditional manner. As a consequence, the record is more delicate and will bear the marks of repeated listens; the songs will become fuzzier and eventually disappear entirely into white noise. And in that way, the record embodies its message: Polaroid in Reverse offers a contemplation on the world’s ceaseless entropy. As physical mediums become more fleeting, many bands are returning to the LP — but rarely does anyone find a way to use vinyl to do something that an MP3 or even a CD simply cannot do.

Label compilation albums are tricky to pull off; they have to work on multiple levels, from bringing in new fans to appeasing established ones. But the tongue-in-cheek name of Experimental Dance Breaks 36 shows exactly how a label should be doing it. This is equal parts old material, new material and — here’s the important part — material from other people in the same scene who aren’t on the label. In the end, this compilation not only shows off what Plastic Sound Supply has to offer, but it shows off what the label’s friends are up to, as well.

The music that VibeSquaD (aka Aaron Holstein) produces falls into the glitch-hop/mid-tempo/psychedelic-bass category, and he’s got the talent and the know-how to push glitch-hop further than we knew it could go. His latest full-length album, The Fire, offers up complex layers that are flawlessly arranged, with split seconds of silence spliced into tracks at the perfect moment. From opener “Freshmaker” to closer “Empower the Wallflower,” the classically trained Holstein employs squiggly squeaks, breaky beats, distorted hip-hop samples, wobbling bass lines, clean taps, eerie synthesized keys and more. It’s all reminiscent of Squarepusher, only more approachable and less mechanical. The Fire is bound to set glitch-hop fans aflame.

The rhymes on Sucks to Be You were originally supposed to appear solely on the oft-delayed Fuck Foe mixtape, which was scheduled for release last summer. But the process of putting out the mixtape proved far more tedious than originally planned, and FOE ended up collaborating with Qknox to produce and remix Sucks to Be You. And like Frankenstein, the two created a monster. FOE’s rapping is taken to another level by Qknox’s production, particularly on songs like “Fuck Boy,” an anti-lame ditty that sounds almost classy in its dis. The immaculate sound quality makes Sucks to Be You an ideal remix that definitely does not suck.

We all hate those people who spend the entire run time (and hefty admission price) of a movie loudly chatting about the plot points and the lead actress’s boob job, but hand them a couple of microphones and an otherwise unwatchable piece of cinematic shit, and the result can be comedy genius. Of course, there are a few more qualifications required to really pull this off. For starters, the people with the mikes have to be both funny and geeky. Luckily, Matt Vogl and Harrison Rains, the two-man joke machine behind Mile High Sci-Fi, fill that double bill. With snide wit and an impressive knowledge of outmoded pop-cultural detritus, the two spend the final weekend of each month polishing the turds of our ridiculous filmmaking past into comedic gems — and while you’ll be unlikely to walk out of the show a better person for it, we can definitely think of worse ways to spend a couple of hours. In your nearby multiplex listening to some cell-phone-obsessed slob talking over the film, for example.

Given how popular his city anthem has become, it’s a bit surprising that Mr. Midas hasn’t enlisted a chorus to walk behind him and chant the hook to his uber-catchy “Run My Town.” The killer single released early from his full-length album Son of the Crack Era, “Run My Town” gave an immediate glimpse into the authentic material that Midas had planned for the record — and he more than delivered on that promise. His account of the struggle and his optimism throughout the disc set his account of ‘hood politics apart from the typical crack tales. Plus, on the track “Tender Kisses,” he shouted out the grandmother who raised him with such sincerity that it could almost have been Tupac’s “Dear Mama” 2.0.

The Treehouse Collective is known around town for its old-school vibe and crew of talented DJs — and, of course, for the wicked-awesome parties it throws for house-heads. If you only go to one THC party this year, make it Pitch A Tent, the annual Labor Day house-music extravaganza set in the mountains near Idaho Springs. The 2010 admission price was $10, a steal considering what you received: music blasting all night and well into the morning, a stage setup (with a dance floor), and nearly unlimited camping space where you could, well, pitch a tent. The organizers provided the tunes and good energy, you provided your own food and beverages — and a good time was definitely had by all.

The Illegal Pete’s outlet on the 16th Street Mall has long been Denver’s unofficial punk-rock burrito epicenter, but this year the restaurant made it official with two outreach efforts: The Starving Artists Program feeds out-of-town bands here on tour, and the Eat and Greets sponsored by Suburban Home are a direct byproduct of that program. After all, if visiting bands are going to stop by Illegal Pete’s for some free food anyway, it only makes sense to invite fans down to meet the musicians and listen to a quick acoustic set or two. It’s a win/win/win deal: The act gets fed, the fans get a show, and Illegal Pete’s gets some extra business.

Last year, Corey Elbin set out to create a special night of community-oriented experimental music and performances, which just happened to include reasonably priced vegetarian and vegan meals. And with Gorinto, his Wednesday-night showcase of some of the most interesting avant-garde musicians and performance-art and dance acts in town, Elbin has thoroughly succeeded. Hosted on the second floor of the Mercury Cafe, Gorinto benefits from a superb sound system and a comfortable environment in which you can experience the likes of Ships & Fog, Aenka, Holophrase, Last Eyes and Alphabets, among others, all over a healthy meal. The result is always pleasantly surprising, always satisfying food for thought.

With the tacit support of No Fun Fest founder Carlos Giffoni, John Gross of Page 27 and Todd Novosad of Novasak have created a festival of local and national acts connected to the noise, experimental-electronic and avant-garde music underground. Over the course of two nights last year, people got to witness acts as diverse as Giffoni’s No Fun Acid, Crank Sturgeon, Married in Berdichev, Architect’s Office and Arrington De Dionyso’s Malaikat Dan Singa. Rather than string together one harsh noise act after another, the festival features a wide array of sounds and styles that happen to fall under the umbrella of “noise.” And this year’s fest, set for April 22 through 24 at Old Curtis Street, promises to make just as big a noise in the scene.

True to the do-it-yourself ethos, Titwrench exists solely through the time, energy and funding of its volunteers. Westword MasterMind winner Sarah Slater created the women-centered experimental noisefest in 2009 and keeps the spirit and interest of the community going throughout the year with Surfacing, a monthly, like-minded showcase of music and art. As a festival, Titwrench does more than just present such bands as Hell-Kite, Joy Von Spain and Caldera Lakes to the masses; the three-day gathering also provides a platform for performers, zine-makers and artists of all kinds to share and sell their work, and to educate others on how to do-it-themselves, too.

On April 17, 2010, local musicians Kaz Bemski and Lindsay Thorson opened their home for the day-long Who’s Having Fun? Fest. The event had a simple goal — to allow everyone to enjoy music in a booze-free, drug-free and smoke-free environment — and the fest more than accomplished that. Dream Wagon played a set on the porch, Pollination Population threw down a screwed-tape session in the living room, and Candy Claws crammed its whole family-style band into the basement for a performance. The building that housed the Who’s Having Fun? Fest has since changed hands, but it’s still a hub of creativity: Stephan Herrera and Colin Ward (aka Alphabets) recently threw a successful art/house show in the same space.

Long a feature of First Fridays along Santa Fe Drive, the Whomp Truck has been making moves since last year, and recently dubstepped up its game with new additions. These days, the Whomp Truck blares and bumps around an assortment of events, blasting deep bass and electronica from its humble, open box — and even hosting its own shows at secret underground spots. Want to party? The truck stops here.

Nearly every night, Cervantes’ Masterpiece Ballroom plays host to local DJs and other rising talents, giving them the opportunity to showcase their craft in front of lively audiences — while also giving Denverites something compelling to do throughout the week, making the uphill climb to hump day bearable and the downhill slide into the weekend smooth and invigorating. This year the owners made renovations to the main floor of the old theater, adding a larger stage and relocating the soundboard; the result is a venue where you know you’ll always find a party, no matter the day or the performer.

Rockstar Aaron knows how to throw a dance party. But that only makes sense, because for years he’s been one of the hardest-working DJs in these parts, spinning regularly at least three nights a week. With Female Trouble, which he helms on Fridays at Bar Standard, he lays down an energetic mix of rock, dance and Top 40, tossing a bit of ’80s magic into the mix as well. Although the club night makes a slight nod to the John Waters film of the same name, Aaron also makes it clear that while the evening is edgy, it’s geared to the ladies — and, by virtue of that, gentlemen. There’s no cover, and females get $1 drinks until midnight. Do you smell T-R-O-U-B-L-E?

Your basic ticket at the SouthGlenn Hollywood Theaters gets you high-back seats and more 3D screens than anywhere else — but a few extra bucks buys you entrance to the SkyboX, a balcony serving cocktails and food that’s surprisingly diverse for theater chow, everything from pizza, sliders and bratwurst to a Cuban sandwich and lobster nachos. Alas, not every theater in the multiplex has a SkyboX, but those that do are a mighty improvement on the home-theater experience: a man cave where you don’t have to fetch your own beer.

Denver’s avid fashion community followed Mondo Guerra’s on-air story as it unraveled during Project Runway’s eighth season last summer and fall. And each week, our beloved made the cut, wowing the judges with his style panache — and stunning the world with his on-air admission to being HIV-positive. Lovable Mondo finished strong, with three consecutive wins in the second half of the season, and an overwhelming number of fans insist he was robbed in the finale, where he lost to Gretchen, despite his being the favorite of both Tim Gunn and Heidi Klum. Politics. But the topper is how Mondo has carried his post-show fame with grace, sweetness and humility. First he trashed plans to move to Los Angeles and instead came back to Denver to set up shop in his home town. And since then, bless his heart, he’s taken on the stance of an AIDS activist, designing limited-edition T-shirts to benefit AIDS research and using his newfound celebrity as a soapbox for the cause. You go, boy!