Art & Culture Being Green Music & Dance Telluride: Art & Culture Being Green Music & Dance Telluride Telluride Festivals
by maribeth
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Phish in Telluride: The Day After the Day After
Well, we did it. Our little mountain town has survived—very well in fact—the invasion of some 10,000 Phish fans. Aside from a smattering of arrests (mostly drug-related), an excess of garbage (which has already been expediently cleaned up) and a few trampled flower beds, most appears pretty much back to normal.
Sure, here in T-ride we’re accustomed to putting on big festivals, big doings that see the population of our town nearly quadruple in less than forty-eight hours. But this was Phish, the widely popular jam band that enjoys a spectacular following everywhere they go. Even Phish fans have to obtain concert tickets through a carefully orchestrated lottery; their shows consistently sell out in record time and those that make it to the event are die-hards, devoted followers that think nothing about crisscrossing the country to take in a show. Especially if it’s in a venue as stunning as Telluride’s Town Park, a setting as celebrated as the numerous artists that have played there.
My first glimpse of dedicated Phish fans en masse occurred late Sunday afternoon, the last day of the Telluride Jazz Festival. The crowd more than doubled, shifting from mountain casual to urban hippie as Phish fans poured into this mellow gathering in Telluride Town Park. I knew already that despite an abundance of tie dye and weed, these folks came from every ilk, every socioeconomic background, every corner of the U.S. Already I suspected many of them to be closet hippies, the kind of people that wore suits and serious expressions most days to work yet their real drug of choice was attending a Phish concert, an enviable outlet that leaves even the most seasoned concert goer in awe.
That’s just how I felt Tuesday night, the second night of Phish’s two-day stint in T-ride. (I had skipped Monday’s show and, in fact, decided only Tuesday morning to attend the second when my boyfriend, Steve, threw a ticket my way. The whole town was buzzing about the event, so how could I stay home?)
It was a gorgeous evening, one of the prettiest of the summer, perfect for baring skin and parading about in all manner of costume-y outfits. And of those there were many. From sequins to tinsel, feathers to beads, face paintings to piercings and tattoos, the entire scene provided some of the best people watching of any concert I’ve attended.
And as the puffy clouds stretched across orangey-pink bands in the faded blue jean sky, the sun set out far beyond our cathedral canyon. My hunny and I remarked about the number of people turning to this gorgeous vision, gazing skyward in amazement, snapping pictures on cell phones and cameras, craning their necks to take in the full glory of this Kodachrome moment.
“I think they’re trying to figure out how much of what they see is real or a hallucination,” my hunny quipped.
Indeed I had never seen so many trip-y looking people. A thick cloud of smoke clung to the air and the smell of pot, tobacco and clove cigarettes permeated the entire park as people swayed and bobbed to the pulsating beat of the music. The crowd roared from the minute Phish took to the stage, mouthed almost every word of every song and communed with one and other as though they were at a massive neighborhood block party (albeit a pretty out-there one). And although the vibe felt relatively mellow, the enthusiasm exhibited among these hardcore fans reverberates through the mob as fast as a rumor spreads that this iconic jam band is coming to town.
“I can’t believe this is all legal,” I commented to my hunny.
“Most of it isn’t,” he replied.
Really, in all the concerts I’ve ever attended—from my first biggies in Saratoga Springs (SPAC) which included Fleetwood Mac to Grateful Dead in Boston during my college years to the Rolling Stones and Police in Paris to the countless in Telluride including Dylan—never had I taken in such a scene. Still though, everyone seemed to be in possession of themselves. This must have been what Woodstock was like, I thought to myself. I didn’t know a single song but I had fun, I felt glad to take in such a display.
The mood became more uproarious after the set break when the band broke out with Party Time, a riotous song which prompted fans to toss massive quantities of glow sticks and rings into the audience. Although this jolly show of neon further enhanced the sensational lighting effects of the show, I couldn’t get past how awful it was to mindlessly throw all these toxic, plastic vials about. Clearly a lot of Phish fans lack some real environmental awareness. I had never seen this happen anywhere before, especially not in T-ride. (And if they ever come back here, I doubt they’ll repeat this offense again.)
I actually learned yesterday on the local news that cleaning up from these shows entailed the biggest effort ever. Fortunately we have crews that know how to restore our park to one of the most pristine public places in the country. They combed the last blades of grass for the pesky debris that remained including cherry pits, cigarette butts and bottle caps. Phish fans have a lot to learn from our festivarians, especially from the Telluride Bluegrass devotees, a crowd that’s well versed in protecting the environment. But hey, they’ve been coming to our beautiful mountain town for nearly four decades.
All things considered, you did good Phish. Just next time, tell your Phans to leave the glow sticks at home and to better pick up after themselves. Oh, and maybe you could turn the music down a little. That was the loudest concert I ever attended and it feels like my ears are still ringing. Liked the improv though. And, of course, the super-friendly, groovy, free-spirited people.
Thank you to Merrick Chase, from Telluride Photography, for the above images. To view the entire two days of Phish in Telluride (and more!), visit the Telluride Photography Web site and blog.
For more on Telluride festivals, read Summer in Telluride: A Sea of Festivals and More.