This must be the place: ‘Let’s welcome the change, no song unsung’
Telluride, Colorado.
Garret K. Woodward photo
It’s been a few days since the Telluride Bluegrass Festival in Colorado ended. And I’m still riding the high on that experience, all while I sit here and do my laundry in West Waynesville, the air-conditioning of the establishment a reprieve from the intense heat and humidity this week.
In truth, I can’t help thinking that Telluride was, in all honesty, probably the most transformative and mesmerizing festival experience of my life, personally and professionally. And for someone like myself who has attended hundreds of festivals from coast to coast over the last 25 years, I don’t make that statement lightly. Not at all.
The lineup, the venue, and the setting surrounding everyone in attendance that was Telluride and the San Juan Mountains is second-to-none on this earth. You see, the allure of festivals is this sense of unknown adventure, all with a live soundtrack of all your favorite music, either known and beloved or simply discovered during the event.
Running into old friends, sparking new ones by mere happenstance. The unrelenting zig-zag of your wandering and pondering throughout the weekend. Midday expeditions via trail runs along the mountain ridges cradling Telluride. Midnight shenanigans at century-old saloons and dive bars tucked around the corner in the depths of the night.
People often ask me, “Why do you put yourself through all that?” when it comes to the endless travel and organized chaos of life that it takes to get to these destinations. All I can answer with is that there are moments at each festival that wash over my heart and soul with such splendor, grandeur, and grace. These sonic snippets that eternally attach themselves to my absolute being.
Sure, there were numerous snippets throughout Telluride. But, in the hearts and hearts, the core snippet was the I’m With Her set at the Sheridan Opera House ‘round midnight on Friday. Built in 1913, the incredibly intimate venue (capacity: 264) provided the perfect setting for IWH. And in the midst of the show, it was “Year After Year” that just made my soul soar.
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In truth, that show might have been one of the finest musical moments of my entire life. Goosebumps up and down my body. Tears welling up in my eyes. I felt so much running through me. Thinking of those I miss dearly, either six feet under or thousands of miles away. I thought of life, in general, and how wild and wondrous it is to be present and in the moment.
I’m getting chills right now and slight tear in my eye reflecting on that moment, that band, that song. The power of music. I’ll continue to chase it, continue to let myself go and become vulnerable to those melodic moments unfolding in real time, always and forever.
But, regardless, here I sit in the laundromat, typing away wildly, inspiration rocketing through my fingertips and they tick away across the keyboard on my laptop. Inspiration from not only the music sought-after in Telluride, but also the memories gathered along the journey.
At my hotel above Telluride in Mountain Village. I got in late Wednesday night after a full day of travel from Asheville to Denver to Montrose via flight, then an hour-and-a-half shuttle ride from Montrose to the Peaks Resort. Thus, with a blanket of darkness covering the landscape, I couldn’t see the vast, ancient mountains.
The next morning, I awoke, pulled back the drapes, walked onto the balcony, and just stood in absolute awe of the rugged peaks of the San Juan range. Poured myself a cup of coffee, grabbed a seat on the balcony, and felt this great sense of self — a much-needed feeling of rejuvenation after almost a year of sadness and trudging through life trying to make sense of everything.
From there, it was getting a lay of the land, whether it be the downtown corridor of Telluride itself, but more so the mountains and trails surrounding my hotel. With half of my one bag of luggage literally being running clothes and my trail shoes, I was licking my lips as to what kind of single-track paths I could find and disappear down in the coming days between, interviews, festival sets and other obligations.
Heck, even on my first day onsite at the festival (Thursday), the genuine camaraderie and surreal nature of Telluride came into focus. During the stunning I’m With Her set on the main stage, I found myself sitting alone in the front row of the massive crowd.
Soon, the legend himself, the “King of Telluride,” Sam Bush, walks up and goes, “Hey Garret, anyone sitting next to you?” Nope. Empty seat. All yours, Sam. To note, Sam, who’s now 73, been coming to Telluride and performing every year since 1975, when he was just 23 and part of pioneering jam-grass ensemble New Grass Revival.
So, Sam and myself watched the IWH show in awe. And between songs, he’d tell me all about the old days of the festival, how tiny the original stage was in the 1970s, and how he remembers watching the members of IWH (Aoife O’Donovan, Sarah Jarosz and Sara Watkins) when they were young kids first coming to Telluride years ago.
It meant a lot to have that conversation. It always does, no matter who it is I either make a time and place to interview or merely someone I crossed paths with serendipitously. Case-in-point, on my flight back to Asheville on Monday afternoon, I ended up at a Mexican restaurant in transit while at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport.
While awaiting my taco plate and sipping on a cold Michelob Ultra draft, I overheard the woman next to me say she was heading back home to Asheville after a weekend in Telluride for the festival. So, naturally, we started talking, soon comparing notes about our favorite things we heard and saw at the festival.
She ended up having an open seat in her row on our flight and asked if I wanted to join her, not only for more legroom in this “economy plus” section of the plane, but also for a continued conversation about nothing and everything. Turns out we both had gone through a lot in the past year, whether it be via the flood last fall or just the stresses of daily life.
By the time we landed in Asheville a couple hours later, I’d made a new friend in this crazy and surreal world of ours. It felt good to sit and talk at-length, to interact with this stranger now fast friend, where you don’t feel so alone in this universe when you genuinely connect with another through a mutual love of music, adventure, and conversation.
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.
