When I gazed out at the jammed Performing Arts Center with thousands of beaming fans wheezing from horse-laughing repeatedly it made me wonder how just two guys can pull this off time after time. Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood are the guys, unassuming in appearance but amazingly well-suited to perform the kind of improvisational comedy their show entails. Their humor ranges from droll observations about popular culture to scatology to physical comedy that makes folks howl with delight. It is a testament to their guts that they never know what topic they will use to form these humorous scenes until seconds before they begin and there is no way to cheat. The whole thing is based on the once British radio, then British television, then American television show called “Whose Line Is It Anyway” that used made up skits improvised after receiving seeds of stories taken at random from audience members. Part of the appeal is precisely that it involves the audience so closely and dares folks to become part of this pageant of delightful silliness and clever rejoinders that Mochrie and Sherwood seem to command at will. When this technique is executed well, as these two gents do, the results can be downright hilarious. In their three visits to , Mochrie and Sherwood have never failed to win the evening without ever seeming to drop the ball. This night was no exception judging by the lengthy standing ovation that greeted the conclusion of the concert.
Of course, part of the charm of the show is the dead ends some of these games lead the men into but somehow they find their way out in a way that just makes the audience double over in laughter. On this night they started with “moving bodies” just the get the crowd and themselves physically limbered up. Lucky Zach and Katherine became puppeteers to two Icelandic men who were both attorneys and pest controllers. As in all Mochrie-Sherwood plots you had to have been there to see how it made the couple to my left look like they might need a de-fibrillator. Richard and Laura honked bicycle horns in a sort of Jeopardy game and seven members of the audience lined up to shout ridiculous words and phrases that Colin and Brad used to weave a rather bizarre story. The word banana was overused but the crowd loved every bite. Probably the high-light of this show and most certainly the star of audience participation was a young lady named Hilary who supplied sound effects for Colin and an entire section of the Orchestra seats supplied sounds for Brad. Or was it vice-versa. At any rate Hilary was brilliant as were Brad and Colin and the section deserved an Oscar or Emmy or something.
There was more including a “secret fear” skit that combined dirty socks, forensic science, Barbie’s, snoring and other stuff not mentionable in a family newspaper that was a complete hoot. The show closed with the ever-popular one hundred pain dealing mouse traps set before two gladiators while barefooted and blind-folded telling a story using the alphabet backwards to begin their epic poem sort of like the Odyssey or Iliad if it were told while yelling ow! a lot. Then, just to place a cherry on this sundae Brad and Colin improvised an amazingly funny version of “My Way” chock full of lines describing the lunacy of the preceding hour and a half.

posted by Glen Creason | 9:14 PM | 0 comments Friday, August 24, 2012

Rocky Mountain Folks Festival 2012 Rocky Mountain Folks Festival: Approaching Perfection

“And it's a great day to be alive
I know the sun's still shining when I close my eyes
It's hard times in the neighborhood
But why can't everyday be just this good”

“It’s a Great Day to Be Alive”- Darrell Scott

I have a dream too. After wandering the hallowed grounds of in quaint for three days and over thirty hours of amazingly high-quality music I am still savoring the sweet vibe that permeated this annual Rocky Mountain Folks Festival. From the artists to the tarp-squatting folks mentioned in the event title there is the purest form of cooperation and fellowship you will see anywhere, anytime, anyhow. Even with the sensory overload of thirty-six hours of attention demanding lyrics, gallons of delicious beer, hours of sun and the presence of everybody from grand folks to actual infants I never heard a lone discouraging word from a single, solitary soul at this tribal-tie-dyed gathering. Nary a “shut the …up, “not a “sit down man!” nor as much as a sigh from thousands of people tiptoeing through the labyrinth of blankets and blue rectangles set out in this little pasture/venue. People smiled at each other, complimented each others t-shirts or hats and sort of looked out for the kids that darted happily among the sun splashed gathering. I have a dream that the people who run the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival will go to congress and start organizing such a love-fest so we can spread this vibe across and start working together.  Well, I said it was a dream. This was my third visit to this blessed event and it just seems to get better, run smoother and offer what I consider the best music on this planet. Yes, I love the Folks Festival.
There is much to see and hear at but maybe it is best I mention some music and leave the mondo-corn dogs, the New Belgium beer, the curried pot-stickers and the ice cream to my own digestive happy memories. In between sets there were musical conversations, refreshing dips in the St. Vrain River, the view of the sun painting the ruddy rocks of the canyon and darting Cliff Swallows who put on their own aerial show.
There were great, heaping helpings of music heard and much of it truly amaranthine despite the sometimes talkative festivarians and sonic demands of an outdoor space. While it is impossible to go in depth about the twenty-some performances I did hear I can say there were some that stood awfully tall and none that disappointed. On day one old pro Holly Near showed what experience can mean for an artist and her call for the kind of spirit that so abides at was inspiring and sounded as fresh as tomorrow. She was wise and confident and had a voice that endured decades of singing and teaching the right lessons. Her “We’re Still Here” was an anthem the children of the 60’s should sing with heads thrown back today. Justin Townes Earle delivered an hour of power that belied his youth. His illustrious folk music bloodlines were unimportant except when he sang the wonderful “I am my Father’s son” but his guitar skills and expressive voice were all his own. I am in no way prejudiced toward my brethren but “Dawes” owned this festival. From their late afternoon day one slot this four man band commanded the big crowd with honest, beautiful rock and roll. Lead guitarist Taylor Goldsmith made a lasting impression with his high-voltage solos that left many a festivarian open-mouthed in admiration. This is not a band you want to follow but Canadian Kathleen Edwards kept the bar high and her “Calling It Quits” left Goosebumps in the 75 degree night. Day one was closed by the rhapsodic “Iron and Wine” who sang the gorgeous “Such Great Heights” and the lovely “Please Remember Me” until sound goblins nibbled at his finishing material. Day two was one winner after another including the evocative “Wisteria” by Richard Shindell, “These Things About Ourselves” by the fantastic Elephant Revival that included spirited washboard playing by Bonnie Paine and fiddling by Bridget Law. Another pert near perfect set was turned in at the magical slot by the under sung Darrell Scott who is not only one of the best guitarists in music but a singer and writer of great songs. I don’t know if you can write them better than “It’s a Great Day to Be Alive” or “Passing.” Australian C&W star Kasey Chambers was a complete change of pace in song and story but when she sang “Captain” a thousand Yanks joined in. The finale was excellent with the bluesy Amos Lee who seduced in the blues idiom and hit a bull’s eye on “” to close the evening.
The surprise of day three was the harmonies and charmingly droll banter of “the Milk Carton Kids” who probably hate to be compared to Simon and Garfunkel but there is that same pristine harmony with maybe even better acoustic guitar. These “kids” completely won over a crowd who may have not known them when they set foot on stage but certainly did after if the line to the merch tent to buy their CDs was any barometer. Peter Himmelman, as usual, got the crowd literally on their feet in a huge conga line of a great cross-section of laughing fans that stretched around the concert. Himmelman is the master of getting a crowd involved as is his song “Tremble” that made us…well… tremble. Neko Case showed her unique and uncompromising songs with little frills but fine musicianship, especially from the superb Jon Rauhouse on pedal steel and un-credited drums and a stalwart stand up bass. Ms. Case worked a brisk hour plus, overcoming some sound problems early and slamming out truly different songs like “Margaret vs. Pauline,” “Invisible Children” and “Invisible Parent” that made you see some lessons in the lyrics. She is plenty rough around the edges but it just seems part of her grown-up punk-persona. The very grand finale was the large band of Lyle Lovett who got the big crowd ramped up after a very full three days. Lovett took it to the limit and kept on going with a half hour encore after great stuff like “This Old Porch,” “Isn’t That So” and the countrified “Please Release Me.”
The music and revelry finally ended on Sunday evening and we reluctantly gathered up our stuff and shone little flashlights to guide the way out. When we trudged back to camps and campers, people were still smiling and helping each other like they cared about one another. No one was in the bubble of selfishness we see so much of today. The spell of the Folks Festival continued, into the next day when a parking lot owner called my sister and let her know he had found her Visa card in the dirt and would be mailing it back that morning. I returned to hoping to take some of that good will back with me.
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