The Mountains Are Alive With the Sound of Music

Vail is a very musical place in the summer. The concerts range from classy philharmonic orchestras, where the summer-home owners dress in “Colorado formal” (good walking shoes and khakis) and enjoy their picnic baskets of wine and cheese to the free modern music concerts that serve as a venue for the entire town of Vail to get drunk in the same place. I have experienced both ends of the spectrum and each has its good qualities. However, my favorite music experiences in Vail have nothing to do with the typical performances going on in the Valley.

Ethan, one of the other interns, and I were scheduled to get some interviews from attendants at the free concert that’s held every Tuesday at the For Amphitheater. We grabbed a tripod and camera and headed out to our shoot, but were stopped at the door leading out of the studio by Jack Sparrow dressed as an 80s rocker. The lanky man had big black hair tied back with a bandana, skinny jeans with a leopard scarf and handcuffs on the belt loop, a tight white muscle t-shirt, and enough eyeliner to put Good Charlotte to shame. He was beautiful. He met us at the door, saying in a thick British accent, “Are you here to take my picture? Is this the interview? You have to meet my band. Come now, you’re going to take our picture.” Before Ethan and I could protest, this rock god had his arms around our shoulders and led us to where four more of him were standing in front of a van. I quickly set up the camera and handed them the mic and let the magic happen. Looking back, I should have asked better questions instead of just letting them babble into the mic for 8 minutes, but the result was still glorious. The band’s name is Gypsy Pistoleros (and if you check out their myspace, you will find their great cover of Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ La Vida Loca”). Vail was simply a pit stop on their way to the Whiskey A-Go-Go in L.A. as part of their U.S. tour. I hope they made it there, because they kept going on about how much they loved being in Vegas until I reminded them that they were in Vail, not Vegas. They quickly changed their tune to how much they loved the mountains. At the end of the “interview” Ethan asked them to give a shout-out to the TV station. One of the lanky, big-haired rockers took this to mean holding the microphone to his crotch and giving the “rock-on” symbol with his other hand. It’ll be tough convincing my boss to let me use that shot.

As the rockers got back in their van to find Vegas or L.A. or Ricky Martin cover fame, the man who originally wrangled us into the interview kissed my hand and said, “My, you’re cute. Are you sure you don’t want to hop in the van and come to California?” It was tough to say no, but I had a shoot to get to and no desire to become a groupie.

My week transferred from U.K. rock to Swedish disco. I’ve seen Mamma Mia onstage several times, I saw the movie version on its opening night, and now my ABBA trifecta is complete with the ABBA cover-band “Arrival’s” concert. When I heard that Arrival was coming to Beaver Creek, I was worried that no one would want to go with me. But Shauna, always up for the off-beat and potentially un-cool, brought up the concert before I had a chance to ask her. We dressed up in our most disco-gear and headed to the Vilar Center to be dancing queens. We were the youngest people there, but not the only ones dressed up. Though most were in Colorado formal, some donned boas and big hats and white pants. Our enthusiasm for the concert did not match our seating. The tickets were free, so I guess we should have expected the absolute last row in the balcony. Once the show started, however, someone was kind enough to give us tickets on the floor, dead center, about 8 rows back from the stage. Mamma mia, these were great seats! We didn’t stay in them for long, however, since the dance floor that had been cleared out directly below the stage was calling our names. We joined the plastic soccer moms and geriatric gay men for some fun disco at the base of the stage. The band itself was great, especially the costumes. The women in the group did not seem to be big fans of wearing pants, and the men were rockin’ their white platform shoes. All were incredibly Scandinavian looking.

The concert was fantastic, even amid the drunken shouting of a particularly plastic woman on the dance floor, but that actually added to the experience. Though the philharmonic is nice, and the free Tuesday concerts have their inebriated charm, give me fake-ABBA any day.