What Is itchy-O? Behind the Scenes of Hallowmass With Denver's Most Unique Music Collective

"Get in the van and put on the blindfold, please."

It would have been the most polite kidnapping ever, if the kidnapee — that would be me — hadn't already been privy to the plan. I was waiting at the Alameda light-rail station near that incongruous Herbert Bayer sculpture when the dusty van rolled up, its driver's face obscured by a mask. The passenger hopped out of the car, smiling at me and carrying a silk, muted-gold tie; he told me to get in the van — an order that would typically kick off a horror story — with complete gentility.

"It's probably best to sit in the middle seat, too," he added sheepishly. "That's the one with the seat belt."

At this point I normally would have run, but I knew these guys (kind of) and their reason for secrecy: They were taking me to an itchy-O rehearsal.
Itchy-O, a mammoth music collective comprising sixty members, is perhaps the most unique group in the underground Denver music scene. Its members, hidden under witchy hats and mysterious masks, are serious about secrecy. They've remained anonymous since itchy-O flooded the streets with renegade concerts in 2009, and this was the first time an outsider was permitted into their rehearsal space. It wasn't any old rehearsal, either — they were preparing for Hallowmass, the group's annual immersive concert series that will celebrate its tenth anniversary with three nights of ethereal, primordial mayhem at Truss House at RiNo Art Park. And it all begins, appropriately, on Halloween.

The three of us were silent as the van trudged along to wherever the rehearsal space was. Some turns and bends, a hill or two, and although I'd lost track of time when we parked, it wasn't a long drive at all. Still blindfolded, I was shepherded by my new friends to the entrance, where I heard a garage door roll up after several steely knocks.

I was guided into a warm room redolent with the earthy smell of incense, and my hands felt a metal folding chair. "Go ahead and take a seat," I was told. "You can remove your blindfold now." My eyes blinked open to a pair of thick, closed curtains, which were slowly parted to reveal a room filled with drums of every sort as well as a multitude of people clothed in black, masks completely covering their faces. It was as if band camp went goth. But even though everyone was wearing masks (some wore glasses over them), I was eerily aware of eyes trained on me.

A pair of earplugs was handed to me with a gentle warning: "You'll need these." And oh, I did. Once the group got going, rolling out the song "Jaywalker," the sound was overwhelming and powerful, but also hypnotic. Cymbals, emblazoned with itchy-O's emblem of a seven-pointed star, shimmered and slashed across each other with the players' synchronized movements; nearby drummers uniformly struck on taikos with perfectly extended arms before folding them back across their chests, sticks neatly clasped to their sides. Beyond the drums, there was a bassist and a guitarist, as well as electronic effects; the space was small, so some members were without their instruments, only mimicking the movements they'd normally make. Many were so elated to perform that headphones, glasses and hats would fly off, until the conductor would call for a pause with a whistle.

When it came time for me to leave, I didn't want to; I was enthralled. There's something mystical about not only hearing but feeling the rhythmic drumming and electronic inflections; you understand why drums were integral in shaping the earliest religious ceremonies. And that's just what itchy-O wants to present to its audiences: an intangible, spiritual sense that only music can achieve. These aren't just concerts — they're ceremonial rites.

"There's a real hunger in culture for a return to this primal, spiritual experience: to get out of ordinary consciousness," says Benjamin Beardsley, itchy-O's media liaison. "Rhythm is an ancient tool for creating altered states of consciousness. The first thing a mammal hears is the beating of its mother's heart, so there's something visceral about big rhythms. And itchy-O takes it even further, getting into brain entrainment technology and the vibrations that nervous systems resonate with. So it really is a real wedding of the ancient and primal with new cutting-edge technology."

Beardsley is the only person involved with itchy-O who will reveal his name. The rest of the bunch are both faceless and nameless. The art is more provocative that way, according to the ensemble's original architect, known rather mysteriously as the Founder.

"We want to create a spiritual experience here," the Founder says. "And the way that we do that is not by seeking attention individually." You could say itchy-O began with a heartbeat. Before it became the phantasmagorical, consciousness-expanding behemoth it is today, it began as a dark ambient solo project in the early 2000s. The first track the Founder made under the moniker involved layering the sounds of animal heartbeats that he had found on a vinyl record.

Over the next few years, somewhere between nine and a dozen members joined, making itchy-O's sound bigger. And then in 2009, "it took a real turn," the Founder recalls. "It was real hard for us to get gigs at the time here in Denver. What we were doing was really weird. Not that 'really weird' was out of fashion, but maybe we didn't feel as welcome in some of the circles."

The solution? Make it even more in-your-face weird. "There was a decision to make it mobile and take it to the streets and play wherever we wanted to," he says. "So we fastened amplifiers to our backs and strapped on drums and did just that. And it caught fire."
Armed with giant drums and garbed in spooky attire, the members burst into spots ranging from Bar Bar to the Underground Music Showcase and First Friday art walks. "The thing about these crashes — which we still love to do — is that when you buy a ticket to itchy-O shows, you know you're going somewhere and something is going to happen," the Founder says. "But when this thing busts in the door like Mr. Kool-Aid, people at first are very freaked out. Our costuming can be pretty intimidating. But once all the drums and rhythm kicks in, people are dancing.

"If you're not moved by the music, you're moving away from it," he adds with a laugh. "Most of the people gravitate toward the heart of it, or they repel. And we like to believe that most people are gravitating toward it."

The Founder already had experience touring with other guerrilla marching bands, such as Extra Action Marching Band and Crash Worship out of San Francisco. But when the Itchy-O Marching Band, as it was then called, took to the Mile High streets, it soon became apparent that the "marching band" tag on the moniker wasn't suitable. "It took us quite some time to dispel that," the Founder recalls. "But we became a lot more than just a marching band very quickly."

So never call itchy-O a marching band: As the Founder points out, itchy-O has only performed in two parades, and one of those was all the way in Tasmania in 2016.

"That was a huge moment for us. I don't know if you can get any farther from Denver," he says. "Our equipment floated on the ocean for almost two months, and we reunited with it there. We led 20,000 people down the streets of Hobart to the very grand finale of the festival, Dark Mofo, where these Balinese ogoh-ogohs were lit on fire and we played our anthem in a corridor to these big, burning statues." By then, itchy-O's word-of-mouth clout and mythological ethos had sparked an accelerated evolution, as the unnamed players took on an identity akin to that of a phantom or a golem, shrouded in mystery. After playing just small, underground spots and surprise shows, the group found itself in demand, closing out David Byrne and St. Vincent's concert at the Botanic Gardens in 2013 and touring extensively. It signed with Jello Biafra's label, Alternative Tentacles; the former Dead Kennedys frontman had fallen in love with itchy-O after catching a performance for a Denver Anarchist Black Cross benefit at the DIY venue Glob.

It further established itself through unique, immersive concerts, in which incense and other factors beyond the music sweep audiences into itchy-O's transcendental tenor. These seasonal shows, which include Hallowmass in fall and the Intergalactic Masquerade for the Spring Equinox, are driven by an ontological lore central to itchy-O, crafted with intention using characters and plots inspired by traditional archetypes, myths and legends.

What other band has its own codex? "We create spiritual experience through ritual and rite, and we do that by creating modern myths, which also allow people to come together despite any existing spirituality or constructs or dogma," the Founder explains. "From day one, that's been a part of our mission."

And when a band defines itself as a spiritual, collective entity, even a global pandemic can't stop it. As venues closed in 2020, itchy-O memorably kicked off a series of drive-in immersive concerts to satisfy the hunger for connection. They were a major gift to the city, and "we are particularly proud of those shows," the Founder says. "They were absolutely epic. There were other people doing drive-in shows as a Band-Aid to venues being shuttered, but what we created...they weren't just a Band-Aid. If we were to do those again today, I know people would come. They were really special." He considers the drive-in shows a milestone in the group's career.

Another milestone? This year's Hallowmass — and it hasn't even happened yet. "We're coming into ten years of Hallowmass, and with this particular show and this production, the work that's going behind it feels really, really massive," the Founder says. "There's a lot of momentum behind this project right now, more than we've ever had. ... Our hair's on fire for all the right reasons."
The first Hallowmass was ignited by itchy-O's 2015 performance in Tucson for the All Souls Procession. Thousands of people gathered in Día de los Muertos garb, "and we were so impressed the whole city came out to celebrate this passing of souls," the Founder recalls. "It had depth and weight and substance; it wasn't a Halloween party. We came away really wowed by it."

The next year, Off-Center, the immersive arm of the Denver Center for the Performing Arts, asked itchy-O if it would collaborate on an experiential show. The collective knew it wanted to honor what it had experienced in Tucson, but without appropriating from Día de los Muertos. So itchy-O drew from its own sacred lore to produce a similar effect.

"There are three different aspects that are recognized at Hallowmass," the Founder notes. "That includes, of course, the passing of souls, loved ones and entities that have moved us. Then there is the remembrance of inanimate things that have affected our lives, such as the pizza joint that closed, moving on from a job, etc. And the third aspect is shedding patterns and behaviors that don't serve us anymore. We have three nights for this triad of impermanence."
Each of the three nights of this year's Hallowmass is dedicated to one of those missions, culminating in an existential release. No show will be the same, as set lists and other aspects are designed to reinforce the specific theme and fully immerse the audience in it; there will be two "ceremonies" (or sets) per night, one at 6 p.m. and another at 9:15 p.m.; the earlier performance is all-ages, and the later one is 18+.

"And people are, of course, welcome to honor and shed and do whatever they want over the course of all three nights," the Founder adds. "But that's how we will be presenting them. ... They will sound different, they will look different and they will smell different, and the ideas behind them will be different for us."

This year's Hallowmass is also the collective's first big show produced by the Mettle Institute, which was born out of itchy-O. "It's a sound-arts community center, and we are proving concept by releasing records and producing shows," the Founder says, adding that a sound sculpture is also in the works.

There's always more to keep the collective occupied: As soon as Hallowmass ends, itchy-O begins planning the next. "We just don't really ever stop thinking about how to keep kicking it forward," the Founder says. And in the meantime, itchy-O has a new record coming out. Although the release date is TBD, one thing's for sure: It will include the custom gamelan that itchy-O received from the Colorado School of Mines.
Fifteen years in, itchy-O remains emblematic of pure and authentic art. It also reminds us of what goes into making that: an incredible amount of collaboration, dedicated effort and a commitment to serving those who need art most.

"Biologically speaking, physiologically speaking, this is how we're built. This is what we're made to respond to," the Founder says. "We have parts of our brains that absolutely need that spiritual scratch itched...and we really pride ourselves in meeting anybody wherever they're at. There's a place for wallflowers at this show, and there is a place for people that want to get right in the eye of the storm with us."

That's why Hallowmass has become a Denver tradition, with a bang and definitely not a whimper.

"The community that we have built here and the ties and bonds that we have made over the fifteen years, just beating our own drum and growing itchy-O into the thing that it is today, is what gets me out of bed in the morning," the Founder concludes. "Hallowmass is really dear to us. It is such an important event, and being able to give people who don't have a way to process loss a place to go and do just that — yeah, I'm really, really proud to share that."

Hallowmass, Thursday, October 31, through Saturday, November 2, Truss House, 3400 Arkins Court. Find tickets and more information at itchyo.com.