Photos by Matt Kelley
“Big” local bands get together for triumphant post-Thanksgiving soirée.
At one point late in Snake Rattle Rattle Snake’s set, lead singer Hayley Helmericks thanked the crowd for making it out for Denver music’s big night. She appeared genuinely awed as she acknowledged the actuality of the evening. “This is an A team night.” It was a Friday night, the day after Thanksgiving, a day now more infamously known for the sensational stories of take no prisoners shopping. Mostly sickening stuff, (which be touched upon later in the night), but for adherers of Colorado music, this night was all about the return of one of Denver’s most beloved and important musicians.
We arrived at the Gothic while Snake Rattle Rattle Snake was playing, so let me clear up any pretense of comprehensive coverage. This piece will neither cover the entire evening’s slate of talented local artists, nor will it wax any poetic narrative about the local scene, etc. For me to even flirt with such a thing would be the height of phoniness. Other, impressively more timely and thorough Denver publications are where you should go for full service coverage.
I came to the Gothic Theater with a targeted focus. I’m admittedly obsessed with the quiet wisps and extraordinary range of Nathaniel Rateliff’s voice and he alone was my reason for venturing out on a frigid, windy night. Rateliff’s music has been a treat for these ears, figuratively sore from providing too much leash to novel and not-so-great artists increasingly littering my digital music locker of the past 18 months. From one bar to the next he’ll trick you into thinking his vocal chords are made of delicate silken threads – albeit wrinkled – before taking a breath to unleash titanium strength and nuclear powered fierceness. The counter-intuitive signature I appreciate most is how the space between notes is phantomly filled not by this treasured voice, but by pure silence. It is an interesting inversion of sound, how the lack of it can accentuate the opposite end of the spectrum, and vice versa. There is a remarkable tension with quietness, and in front of a crowd this paradoxical dynamic can be incredibly intense. I compare it to the nightmare of those fearful of public speaking, not a perfect analogy – but few things can be as terrifying as being in front of an audience without the ability to confidently put thoughts together to fill the air. Those moments where seconds feel like days permeate fear for all involved, and while not a tangible violation it can sure feel strong. While I partially digress, (silence is difficult to articulate, so which level of hellish irony did I go down to?) I’m ultimately hilariously and nerdily amazed by this inverted appreciation for sound structure that Nathaniel Rateliff exemplifies.
