Urf. Good morning from Telluride. Happy Father’s Day. Shane and I made it to the end of the music again last night—that’s three nights in a row now—a new Telluride record. The band was Gaelic Storm, a group of Irish rowdies who played stomping pub-stormers all night. I know you’re getting sick of hearing this, but the audience was coming unhinged—the field was shaking last night. Remember that scene in Titanic when Leo took Kate down in the steerage for the real party? That was the adventure last night here times 10,000 festivarians. These people come here to have the time of their lives, and these Irish yayhoos brought the party big time. Shane and I stood next to a couple of the Planet Bluegrass top brass during the show, including head honcho Craig Ferguson—they were cutting loose after a year of planning this thing. I seem to recall the band splitting the audience in two halves and assigning chanting parts—our side was instructed to turn on our flashlights, cellphones, etc., during our part—it was quite a feast for the senses.
Our senses are definitely feeling overtaxed this morning. Shane and I are fairly pathetic campers comparatively. Most people here have elaborate campsites, decked out with amenities from potted plants to disco balls. Shane and I don’t spend much time at the campsite—we don’t put a lot of stock into things like “showering” and “eating meals.” This morning, we decided to walk (very slowly) into town. We ended up at Maggie’s for coffee and then Baked in Telluride (see photo) for breakfast sandwiches. The town of Telluride is the most charming place you can imagine. It’s a town that can permanently change your perspective—it’s my Powerball home, for sure. The main street is lined with coffee shops, high-end clothing boutiques, art galleries, western outfitters, ski/outdoor shops, fine and funky home furnishing stores, and lots of restaurants and saloons.
The traditional Sunday morning gospel show starts in about thirty minutes. A mix of sun and clouds today–should be another good day. Listen along at koto.org, and I’ll check in with you momentarily.
