Damien Rice. Red Rocks.

Damien Rice has been a longtime favorite of mine. Doug and I first saw him twelve years ago, when I was pregnant with Beckett. One of the things I noticed straight away was he’d aged right along with the rest of us. Maybe more. And if you’re a fan, or listen to his music at all, you understand that he experiences life in a bigger way—maybe a deeper way—than the rest of us.

He came out and played My Favourite Faded Fantasy first. Over the course of the next two hours, he played almost all of what I hoped to hear.

He’s an interesting guy, with a talent that is almost painful to be in the presence of. He writes what he feels, and then every ounce of angst and pain comes through his guitar and his voice. 

In his introduction to Colour Me In, he talked about a reporter commenting that he wrote a lot of love songs. He scratched his head. Love songs? Uh, angry, resentful, pain-filled love songs. 

A couple years ago, I googled him, and saw that he didn’t have a tour scheduled, and realized at that time how long it had been since he released any new music. Fast forward to the end of 2014. A new album. A new tour.

His performance last night of It Takes a Lot to Know a Man was one of the most spectacular and brilliant (in every sense of the word) performances I’ve ever seen. I didn’t video it, although I saw many others doing so. I just checked YouTube and nothing was posted yet. When it is, I’ll post a link. 

I suppose seeing him again was a bucket list kind of thing for me. Especially seeing him at Red Rocks. Seeing anyone at Red Rocks is. There aren’t words effective enough to describe the experience. I could try, but instead I’ll suggest you consider adding it to your own bucket list. It’s worth it.

Damien Rice, in all his angry-angsty glory, didn’t disappoint in any way. Even the fact that he didn’t play Cannonball didn’t matter. Every single other song, other note, other chord, was mesmerizing. Two songs brought me to tears. 

Colour Me In affected me more than any other, particularly when he told the story behind it. It’s all about loving yourself first, forgiving yourself for all the little things you find yourself hating. Give it a listen sometime. It’s designed to remind him, and us, that you have to love yourself first, before you can find love outside of yourself. 

It was a great night, from start to finish. Doug and I had dinner at a wonderful little Italian Place near Chatfield, which we will definitely go back to. When we had to park in the furthermost south lot, we took a cab to the top, and walked down to our seats. Worth every penny. The predicted rain stayed away, as it often does at Red Rocks. 

It was a night I’d write. And probably will. I guess I just did.

Iron and Wine. Red Rocks.

Last night we saw Iron and Wine at Red Rocks. Actually we saw Iron, there was no Wine, but that didn’t matter. Before we left the house, I checked their setlists from previous concerts. To my great disappointment, Love and Some Verses, one of my favorite songs of all time, wasn’t on a single list, going back more than two dozen shows.

When Sam came on stage, he was jovial, and maybe more than a little high. He made the mistake of asking the audience what they wanted to hear. A few people shouted out my favorite song (myself included), and he pointed to his other guitar. "I play that one on the other guitar," he said. Hope. 

Five or six songs in, a guy closer to the front than we were shouted it out again. "You've earned this," laughed Sam, who then broke into Love and Some Verses.

Night made. Happy, happy. Recorded the whole thing. Fantastic memory.