John and I were here last night:
You just can't quite capture the magic of Red Rocks Amphitheater in a video.... the sun setting, Denver city lights in the distance, the birds flitting in and out of their red sandstone cliff homes, the stars and crescent moon emerging as the night goes on.
And then there were the people: mesmerizing sexy hula-hoop girl, children and teenagers with their parents, old men in wheelchairs who knew every word to every song and sang along. The average age was probably 50, but there were plenty of 20 and 30-somethings there to give me hope. It was the most intergenerational crowd I've ever seen at a concert.
And the smells: the sweet aroma of marijuana drifting under your nose (although we never did see where it was coming from), the earthiness as you walk on the path in the dark to get to your car, the patchouli scent wafting on the breeze.
It was a manic-depressive show. I both wept and danced. Thus is the hallmark of a genius songwriter.
4 comments:
Wow.
Interesting pairing, given that John Prine is a beloved songwriter who's undervalued as a performer, and Emmylou Harris is largely an interpreter of other's songs who rarely writes her own — but does a good job when she does. I love them both.
There are many ways to describe the smell of marijuana, but "sweet" isn't one I'd use. And I don't quite see the point of getting stoned at a concert like this, anyway — the music of these two provides its own hypnotic narcotic.
I saw John Prine live once. He really is a remarkable poet.
I've also seen John Prine (with Nanci Griffith) and I would have loved to see him again with Emmylou Harris! Yeah for live music.
Wow. Magical. I got goosebumps. Thanks for posting this. I'm so glad you had this experience.
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