A feeling between trepidation and excitement takes hold of me as I step to the front of the mosh pit raging during RUGBURN’s Saturday night Blucifer set at Bar 404. I nod wordlessly at the sweaty, smiling people surging around me, a grin of my own growing across my face. I step forward, shins briefly knocking against the venue’s short stage. I attempt to step up and my foot slips on sweat or beer or both. Someone behind me pushes against my back and I am on the stage, my heels hanging off as I stand near tip-toed between two monitors. I look back over my shoulder just for a second, visualizing my destination. I see hands outstretched, palms flat and promising, willing me to trust them. I stretch my arms out and exhale, relinquishing trust in myself to something greater. My eyes meet those of the smiling band absolutely ripping the bar apart and I fall back. Time seems to slow and, for a moment, I am held there suspended above an eager pit, the feeling of falling paused just before I hit. There is a sense of peace that comes, that right here, floating above 100 raging fans is where I have always been meant to be, all that has happened before or that will happen after irrelevant. All that exists is this moment in time that I will never forget. But all moments must pass and I hit, an unknown number of hands searching for a hold all over me, some wrapping around my legs, some pressing up between my shoulder blades. There is a dip and I worry I fell too hard, too fast as I prepare for an even greater fall, to slip through the hands so desperately trying to keep me aloft. However, they soon find purchase and I am lifted high above the crowd, any fear or worry turned to a fierce elation that will live within me always. My hands form into devil horns and I raise them as much as I can without losing those keeping me up, trying to be conscious not to kick anyone in the face. And there I am, my fall caught then elevated by the hands of strangers that will always share the bond that inevitably forms when a bunch of people that love music and the people that make it comes together. I am held up by these people, my fellow fans, my partners in the pit, strangers I will trust forever until the time comes to return to solid ground. I am lowered back down, my arms around those closest to me. I land as others pat me on the back, all of us laughing, and I turn, hop back into the pit, ready to catch whoever’s going next.
Blucifer’s First Rodeo felt a lot like falling towards a crowd of outstretched hands. In the months leading up to the festival, it was all the Denver music scene could talk about. You’d see the festival’s merch worn by bouncers at your favorite dive bars, posters up in coffee shops and plastered to telephone poles. Your favorite local bands you’d see at the Hi-Dive would remind you that they’d be back on that very stage in a few months for Blucifer. The hype was all encompassing, impossible to ignore, heralding one of the most exciting events to happen to Denver’s music scene in ages. This excitement built from how authentic, how very real and true, how very Denver it has felt since its announcement back in February. The festival was organized by people who have made their homes within the city’s music, arts and DIY scenes and this built a sense of trust, which seems to have been critical in attracting the 259 artists that played last weekend and the 3000 people that showed up to see them. These people are fuckin’ heroes. Their blood, sweat and tears were fully on display throughout the weekend, their hard work apparent in every facet of the festival. You could even literally see them sprinting down through the crowded South Broadway streets in either heavy rain or 100 degree heat depending on the day, ready to handle anything that arose.
It must be noted that, in spite of all the hype and the knowledge that Blucifer’s First Rodeo had all the pieces in place that would make it something cool, there was still an air of uncertainty around it. It was a brand new festival put on by first time organizers (who, granted, had tons of experience in similar spaces but had not attempted something on this scale) in a storied part of town on the same weekend as a festival with a lot of history behind it and it promised a lot. The project as a whole was unbelievably ambitious, courageous even, and with that, trepidation is inherent, this idea of “Okay, what is this thing actually going to look like when we’re actually there?”. The weeks leading up to last weekend were the fall, that moment in time where control has been relinquished and all you can do is trust that those hands below you will be strong enough to catch you and raise you aloft. The people of Denver caught Blucifer’s First Rodeo, put all their strength behind it and elevated it to something near mythical. It was a weekend that will be remembered by this city as the beginning of something with the ability to change it for the better. All who attended, all the bands who played, all those responsible for putting it together will be able to carry this weekend with them for the rest of their lives, holding it with them as a remembrance of the beauty that can be elicited when people come together to be part of something greater than themselves. It was a beautiful weekend, a resounding success, a milestone for this city and, overall, a damn good fuckin’ time.
FRIDAY:
After picking up wristbands and earplugs (fuck tinnitus) at Punch Bowl Social which was turning people away due to being at half power on account of the storms that had been raging all day, we (fellow Denver Dive co-founder Genevieve Meehan and myself) started our Blucifer’s First Rodeo journey on Friday outside of the Hi-Dive, having a quick smoke before stepping into the unknown. The vibes were already high, everyone out there smoking and waiting in line and joking around, saying hi to old friends, talking about what was in store for them in the coming days. We realized we had shown up between sets as Naughty By Nature and Tribe Called Quest and Outkast emanated from inside and we were pretty sure they weren’t on the line up. Rain drizzled lightly, a welcome remnant from an earlier deluge that helped with the heat but also served as a precursor to coming storms. We finished and stepped in line. We had long ago decided to eschew press passes and buy our tickets almost as soon as they went on sale in order to get the true, authentic experience shared by most everyone around us, which meant lines. It was short and we stepped in, hopped into the crowd about halfway back or so. The place was full but also between sets so people were funneling in and out, getting drinks, talking. We, as frequenters of the venue, almost immediately noticed the art adorning the stage that was not usually there. We later found out that it was done by local art collective The Terrible Wise who also did the stage art for HQ, Voodoo Doughnuts, The Skylark and Bar 404. Soon, the venue filled near to capacity and our first band of the weekend hit the stage: Bluebook, a band I’ve wanted to see for a long time but never have. I should note that this would be the general theme of our weekend, chasing bands we had never seen but had been wanting to for sometime.
Bluebook’s set was mesmerizing, entrancing yet overflowing with this sense of whimsy. It’s music to float to, that wraps itself around you, whispers in your ear that you’re okay, that you are strong enough and your mistakes don’t define you. We heard notes of Siouxsie and the Banshees, Florence and the Machine melded with conjurations, laments from the void and this deep humanity that allowed the band to transcend that stage, elevate themselves to mystics that put a spell on that crowd that will never break. Despite the haunting nature of the music, in between songs Bluebook lead singer, guitarist and mastermind Julie Davis would shout out Blucifer constantly, telling the crowd how amazing the whole event is, crack a few jokes, make sure the crowd never forgot that there was a little blue babydoll sitting on one of their amps (dubbed “Baby Blucifer) and tell the crowd what the next song would be about. Topics included Davis’s cat, ketamine therapy and much more. It was a truly beautiful, profound set that set an incredible precedent for the weekend.
We next made our way down five or so increasingly rainy blocks to catch what we could of Chroma Lips’s set at Li’l Devils. We arrived and there was a bit of a line and a bunch of people hanging outside. The door was open and the band was raging just inside so it felt nice to hang out on the sidewalk for a bit as the line waned and we chatted with some people around us. In doing so, we found out that earlier in the day — which was marred by the rolling thunderstorms we’ve been experiencing lately — that Goldmine Vintage had been struck by lightning and lost power. The people telling us this said that forced the shop to switch to acoustic sets and that it created a really communal experience. It serves as a testament to how resilient this city can be in a crisis, how it can turn a potentially catastrophic weather event into a a memory that will never be lost.
Eventually we made our way into the very tiny, very packed venue. The band was fuckin’ raging, their bass player playing in a speedo, lead singer Violet Hues oscillating from behind her keys set up to hopping around in the crowd. Guitar player Harry Edwards stood mid-shred on top of a table or an amp or something. It was really crowded in there and I couldn’t exactly see. The band was playing songs from their recently released debut album chromaZone and you could see the band’s hunger. They’re young, relatively new on the scene and tearing the city apart as they make a name for themselves. It was a lot of energy for that small room and goddamn was it a good time.
READ: Album Review — Chroma Lips Claim Their Territory With Debut Album “chromaZone”
We then left Li’l Devils to run over to The Skylark, which would end up being our home base for the rest of the night. The rain was really coming down at this point but it was refreshing after leaving Li’l Devils, the rain drops rolling down our faces along with the sweat, washing us off as if some sort of DIY baptism. Once we made it there, we immediately took a left to head up the stairs to the venue. However, upstairs was at capacity and we were told to wait, which we were totally fine with. We were first in line and each had a drink while we waited, talking to those behind us as they formed a line that would eventually reach out to the front doors. It wasn’t long before a couple or three came down and we were let up.
We’d been eager to catch Barbara, Genevieve in particular. I had caught their set last year at UMS and was blown away but hadn’t seen them since. In the weeks leading up to the Blucifer we had made a list of “nonnegotiables,” bands that we would do absolutely everything we could to see and, coincidentally, many of those bands were playing Skylark that night and Barbara was at the top of the list. The room ebbed a bit as people filled out and those denizens of the line behind us filled their places but it soon reached capacity once more and people stopped being let up. We ran into some friends spread out throughout the room — including Sunny from Bitstream Bleed who was acting as the stage manager for The Skylark — asked how their Blucifer’s were going and caught up. It added this feeling of us being right where we needed to be.
Soon, Barbara hit the stage and were everything we’d been hoping for. Their music is intricate, math-y shoegaze with deeply personal lyrics that capture what it feels to go through life in this wild time we all find ourselves in. It isn’t afraid to be tongue-in-cheek while also never shying away from the darker aspects of existence. Their set was hypnotic, trance-inducing, all-encompassing, a masterclass in how to have a crowd hanging on every note. They stuck mostly to their most recent album SO THIS IS LIVING? released last year and it made for a hell of a set. A forever nonnegotiable from here on out.
Next up was Queen Frog, a band on my list that I’ve been hearing all about this last year but hadn’t yet had a chance to see. Early in their set, they busted out an incredibly ballsy cover of Weird Fishes/ Arpeggi by Radiohead, a tricky song to nail and they blew us away with how much they captured the spirit of the song while never deviating from their own sensibilities. The band has a sincerity to them, this twangy almost nostalgic sound that hearkens back to sad country of yore but is also imbued with a level of punk psychedelia that really did it for me. At one point in the set, their front person spoke about Blucifer’s First Rodeo as a symbol for what can be achieved when we all come together. It felt like a big moment. I scanned the crowd as it happened and saw resolve set into the eyes of those in attendance, a sense of belonging palpable, a love in the air that didn’t disperse the rest of the weekend.
Pink Lady Monster followed. This was another band neither of us had seen and we were excited, especially as fans of local death metal band Insipidus (who we would catch on Saturday) as the two bands share a drummer, Travis Hatley, who very well may be the one of the best drummers in Denver from a purely technical standpoint. The two bands, however, couldn’t be more different. Pink Lady Monster feels like they fell out of different era, channelling 80s pop but adding a real unabashed and supremely compelling weirdness to their sound. It’s like if Bananarama or maybe even The Bangles listened to a lot of Les Claypool and Ween. The set was pure fun, smiles abound, dancey, heartfelt and so unique. You could tell just how much fun the band was having and it spread throughout the room.
Our final show of the night would be Cheap Perfume. We had been able to catch a small sliver of their set at UMS last year and have always regretted not seeing more. The band is fucking ferocious and my god did they tear The Skylark apart, a pit breaking out the moment they played their first note. It’s unabashedly pissed off, anti-capitalist, anti-fascist, sex positive punk music in its purest form. They’re a band that’s meant to break systems and keep the fight alive, good trouble pouring from that stage with gusto as they moved through songs like “It’s Okay (To Punch Nazis),” and “Slut Game Strong.” At one point, the band called for an all female pit. Gen turned to me and threw her bag at me and, without checking if I caught it, ran in to join. She came back about 10 minutes later or so, sweating and panting and glowing, a smile painted wide across her face. The pit eventually returned to co-ed and people shook that whole upstairs venue, a wonder it didn’t collapse with all the people pushing and jumping and crowd surfing. An insane set and the perfect end way to our first night at Blucifer’s First Rodeo.
SATURDAY:
We were much more mobile on Saturday, the lay of the land a bit more established for us than on Friday. Starting a little earlier, we decided it felt right to kick things off at the Hi-Dive once again. After a longer but still quick line, we got in to catch a bit of In Plain Air’s set. We had caught these guys about a year ago at Roots Music Project in Boulder and had been trying to chase them down ever since. Members of the beloved local record label/artist collective Mean World Records (the weekend also saw sets from fellow Mean World artists Blackberry Crush, Tiny Tomboy and Tarantula Bill) these kids are young but damn are they good. They take themselves seriously, their stage adorned with a little TV that was showing what I think was childhood home movies or something of the like. The Hi-Dive was packed so we were off on the side trying to see what we could. But the band was great, intricate, mature, showing all the signs that they have what it takes to become one of the Front Range’s more interesting projects.
READ: Tarantula Bill Talks New Album “Norm” Ahead of June 12th Album Release
We next ran over to The L to catch Dollpile, picking up a friend of ours along the way. I’ve been following Dollpile since before they were Dollpile and were going by Isadora Eden but had never seen them before. I absolutely fell in love with their latest album, Someone Else’s Heaven, which debuted in early June and they were very much one of my nonnegotiables. The band was still setting up when we arrived, drummer Sumner Erhard sitting behind the kit while the rest of the band mingled. We got a drink and joked around with those around us and soon the band took their places. Lead singer Isadora Eden joked with the crowd saying, “Everyone having a good time? Who’s ready to get really sad?” referring to the deeply somber nature of the band’s music. The crowd laughed and cheered and the band started. Their music’s sad but it’s much more than that. It’s music that lives and breathes, that makes you feel less alone in crowded rooms. It shifts between this dreamy, somber goth-pop to some rather heavy hitting shoegaze and it all just barrels into you, stealing sorrow from your chest and claiming it as its own.
As the set was winding down, Genevieve shared the rest of her (reportedly delicious) espresso martini with our friend who downed it in a gulp and we took that energy to run over to catch the aforementioned Insipidus playing outside Ritual Tattoo Shop. For the uninitiated, Insipidus has become something of South Broadway legend. They can usually be found on the weekends playing outside Ritual and are growing to become one of the most interesting and important metal acts in the city. Though they have vocals on their albums, they stick to fully instrumental when playing on the streets but that makes the music no less brutal. My god, can these dudes play. Each one of them is so talented, easily able to rank amongst the best technical players in Denver. A huge crowd had formed around them by the time we arrived, people in the front “row” if you can call it that from a sidewalk swinging their hair around and head banging with abandon. We quickly joined and and watched the set through, doing some headbanging of our own. These guys are going places, one day able to stand amongst some of the prog-metal greats.
We then backtracked a little to head to HQ where we’d post up for the next couple of sets. Mystee was next up and damn the Fort Collins band can put on a show, their sound twangy but with a hard edge, reminiscent of bands like Wednesday with maybe a little Ratboys thrown in for good measure. The crowd was the biggest I’d seen so far at Blucifer, maybe because the HQ has a lot more space than many of the other venues but there was no denying each person filling that room was there for Mystee. The set was so high energy, emanating a sense of fun but also giving off this air of competence. They know what the hell they are doing, seizing the moment they’re sharing with their crowd and making every second count. It was a really impactful set that will have me keeping an eye out for any time they come to town.
Next was Bitchflower and we’d been talking about this set for weeks leading up to Blucifer. Having caught them open up for Pink Fuzz last year, we’ve had this craving to see them again ever since but life always got in the way whenever they’d have a show. Now, however, the time had come and we were ready to be ripped apart and the band did exactly as we hoped. They reached into our chests and broke open our rib cages to expose our hearts to the world, no more hiding, no more excuses. Bitchflower is a band that makes you want to show the world that which pumps through your veins, that you’re alive and nothing can take that away from you. The band is brutal, uncompromising, lead singer Brooke Van Buiten’s howling scream enough to shatter the moon and boil blood. The set did exactly that, the most intense pit of the weekend almost engulfing HQ. A big moment came when Van Buiten crowd surfed on top of the chaos and didn’t miss a searing note. It was the kind of set that sticks with you.
Once Btichflower ended, we realized we needed to hustle. Next on our list would be RUGBURN which was starting in about a minute and was at Bar 404 about fifteen minutes away. As if a gift from the universe, as we stepped outside of HQ, a guy pulled up on a pedicab and said we looked like we were going to Bar 404. We said, “How’d you know?” to which he replied “I’m heading there, too. Hop on.” We squeezed in, a small seat shared between three people, my leg hanging off the side slightly. It saved so much time as we arrived two minutes or so after we got on. Turns out the pedicab driver, whose name is Will, was also playing and attending throughout the weekend and had been using his cab to shuttle people to where they needed to go just to help out, letting people pay what they could. We pulled up to Bar 404, thanked the driver and he followed us in, quickly running into his own friends but there’s something beautiful about that, sharing a show with the person who got you there out of sheer kindness.
Bar 404 was ready for RUGBURN. The whole place felt ready to explode. The band hit the stage quickly after we arrived, each member adorned in a cowboy hat. The crowd erupted immediately, ripping into a pit in seconds as RUGBURN’s fuzzy, heavy as hell psych-rock propelled them forward. The band is notorious for inciting crowd surfing and that began as quickly as the pit did. People wasted no time, myself included as described at the top of this piece, hopping up on the stage and falling back to be caught by friends, strangers, comrades for life. At one point, there was an issue with bass player Dustin’s amp but the rest of the band just jammed while he and the stage tech figured it out, keeping the energy high and the crowd moving. The issue was resolved quickly and the full weight of the band’s sound returned, the crowd near feral at this point. I absolutely love this band I must say and will see them every chance I get.
We left Bar 404 in a bit of daze, our lungs burning with night air and our cells feeling like they were on fire. Next would be Horse Bitch at HQ and we started to walk. However, before we made it too far, Will, our pedi cab driver, asked if we wanted a ride back that way. We hopped in once again. He stopped a bit short of the venue saying “I’m gonna drop you here so I can pick up some other homies.” We said it was all good, thanked him for taking us as far he did, paid the man and walked the rest of the way to HQ.
When we walked in, there was a heaviness to the air, laden with two days worth of sweat and beer. It was almost like moving through some gas thicker than oxygen, like we had to push a little to move. It was intense but also felt right, earned, a hallmark of a venue well fuckin’ rocked. We were immensely glad for Will’s ride because right when we arrived and made it inside, Blucifer’s First Rodeo co-organizer Mike Young took the stage ahead of Horse Bitch. He thanked everyone for coming out, for making this weekend such a success, voice maybe cracking a tad as he told us how much this all meant to him. The most striking moment came when he had the crowd go silent for a moment. The silence held, only broken by the occasional cough, the ripping sound made when pulling one’s shoes up from a beer soaked venue floor. After a moment, Young looked up and said something along the lines of “What you just did, you couldn’t do alone,” making a point about Blucifer’s First Rodeo’s very ethos. It was a truly moving moment, one that everyone in that room knew they’d be bringing home with them and allowed them to look around and see exactly what they made possible.
Horse Bitch then hit the stage and blessed us all with the absolutely unpredictable chaos that has made them one of the most talked about bands in town. There is always a feeling when seeing Horse Bitch that you’re being inducted into a cult you don’t quite understand. I mean that it can have spiritual quality to it despite its insanity. There were so many people on stage dressed in everything from cow costumes to to track suits to what I believe were plastic grapes. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on on stage the whole time but the music was great, had everyone smiling and the set served as a perfect almost punctuation to the night.
READ: shadow work Burns Down the Past with New Single “Something’s Burning” and Accompanying Video
We left Horse Bitch early in order to literally run to The Skylark to catch the last half of shadow work’s set. We made it faster than I thought we could, huffing and puffing, making jokes about needing to quit smoking as we entered the bar and were let upstairs immediately. The crowd was still going strong, entranced as the band has the distinct the ability to do. They played with such emotional intensity, each note sung by lead singer Rafael feeling like some grand lament, like his soul is burning. As their set wound down, the crowd wanted more and pleaded with the band and the venue for just one more. They launched into a powerful, haunting cover of Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come.” It felt perfect, like they were saying that this festival, Blucifer’s First but certainly not last Rodeo, was the start of a great change, an indicator that the winds are shifting, that power lives within us all and there is no limit to what can be achieved when we join together. The song ended but the feeling held there in the air.
We walked out of the venue and ran into Julie Davis, lead singer of Bluebook and talked about the set we just witnessed. She said, “We were all just apart of something truly special.” I am not sure if she meant the set itself or the festival as a whole but either way, we couldn’t help but agree. It was a full circle moment we felt as we wished her well, parted ways with our friend and walked out into the warm city night, filled with a light shared between every person stepping out from a South Broadway venue at that late hour, falling back into the world we once knew and caught and held aloft forever by the knowledge that we were there for Blucifer’s First Rodeo.
All photography courtesy of LK Konkoli @lk.konkoli.visuals and Victor Rollins @someborrowedtime.
