I spent this past weekend in Estes Park, Colorado. If you’ve never been, I highly recommend making the trip - if only for the fleeting rushes of adrenaline you’ll experience trying to navigate twisty mountain roads during icy conditions. The thrill that comes with almost swerving off a steep embankment and dying is better than any drug, man.
I went to Estes Park for two reasons: The first - I’m trying to finish writing THE CURSE OF THE WHERE WOLF (I think this is what I’m calling WHERE WOLF 2, btw). I have had little time to work on the project during the last month so an interrupted weekend spent in a hotel room pounding away at the script seemed like a great idea. And it was! I knocked out two chapters that I’m very happy with - bringing me up to a total of eight chapters completed, or a third of the book. I still have four more chapters to go - and four extremely difficult ones to write, storywise - but I’m confident I’ll finish the script by the end of the spring. Even if I have to lock myself in a Bastrop LaQuinta for a week to do so.
The reason I chose Estes Park for my getaway, though, isn’t entirely because I’m a hack. (Yes, Stephen King wrote THE SHINING at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park. Yes, I harumphed around my own residency at the Coyote Mountain Inn, pretending to be a would-be Mr. King for the weekend). No, the reason I chose Estes Park was because one of my favorite bands was playing a three-day set at the Stanley Hotel.
I first listened to Murder by Death back in 2005 or so - they were included on a soundtrack for the television show MASTERS OF HORROR and their song - “End of the Road” - was my favorite from a pretty stacked album. I immediately sought out their back catalog and have enjoyed listening as they continued to refine their sound over the last fifteen years. I have a hard time describing exactly what type of music Murder By Death plays - Alt-country? Spooky rock? Chamber-core? I dunno - all I know is that their mix of dark lyrics, guitar, cello, violin, keyboard, and the occasional horn is the kind of music I like to listen to.
And I listened to Murder by Death A LOT these past two years. I built a playlist at the beginning of April 2020 that I listened to on an almost daily basis during the early days of quarantine and Murder by Death’s songs “Foxglove,” “Alas,” and “Chasing Ghosts” were on constant rotation. Beyond those three songs, I’ve made my way through the band’s entire catalog multiple times since 2020. Fun fact, watching Murder by Death perform in Austin in February 2020 was one of the last live shows I got to see before the world fell to shit. So - all that said - watching Murder by Death perform three different sets at the beautiful (and haunted!) Stanley Hotel was a cathartic experience - a sign that I made it out of the last few years alive and thriving.
It was also a hint that I’m getting too old for concerts. I have always been a “GA” type of guy - to even think of sitting in the stands at a concert is verboten. I want to be right there in the mix of things - as close to the speakers as possible. Getting my hearing irreparably damaged is the only way to experience live music. But … But … Throughout that first night’s set, I couldn’t help but keep looking back towards the balcony section, in which a chunk of the audience was enjoying the show from what appeared to be nice, comfy chairs. Was I - in my mid30s - jonesing for the lifestyle endorsed by Statler and Waldorf?
The second night, as I started to stake out where I was going to stand for the show, I looked up at the balcony and saw some empty seats. There were still two hours to go before the band played (I get to concerts way too early). Was I really going to stand at the front of the stage, playing with my phone, while I waited? Or could I sit on a chair and play with my phone for two hours while I waited? I chose the seat.
As the band took the stage and started to play, I realized I had chosen poorly. The lights in the balcony were not dimmed. The people around me were talking to each other like they were watching television on their couch. In fact, the whole experience felt way too much like watching a concert on YouTube instead of actually being at the venue. It was awful - and so I left. I walked downstairs and took my spot at the back of the venue. It’s like that old saying from Mark Twain - “Better the rear than the balcony.” Or maybe it was Mark McGrath who said that
By the third night, I was back at the front of the stage - getting my eardrums properly thrashed. This is where I belong! Maybe one day my body will give out and I’ll take a seat without any emotional turmoil. But I’m not ready to live that life yet, baby. That’s what ibuprofen after a show is for.
It comes down to this - I’m too young to want to sit down at a concert but I’m also too old to not realize that sitting down is a nice thing to do.