My husband, Bill, and I are in Colorado to promote the hell out of his latest book, Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson. The book tour coincides with our seventh anniversary and the inaugural Mile High Music Festival. So after seven years of marriage, four kids, four horses, five chickens, a rabbit and a dog, a week away is heaven. But, another romantic dinner to celebrate the nuptials? Really? We can do better. So, I got crafty.
Were both journalists. He is a rocknroll historian, a know-it-all (like really annoyingly knows-it-all but has honed a very endearing way of being the smartest guy in the room). So we should cover the music festival, right? The festival is a bevy of music awesomeness. Amazing bands. Bands Ive known: Dave Matthews Band, Tom Petty, John Mayer, the Black Crowes . . . musical institutions for Americas nearly 40-somethings. But what really intrigued me is the indie throwback bands. The same artists voices that have been pumping through my interns office iMac for the past three months admittedly, music I have become addicted too; Brett Dennen, Ingrid Michaelson, the Flobots, Colbie Caillat, and of course Dave Matthews,whose voice is like a turbo-charged aphrodisiac (more on that later).
But the fun will be his take versus mine. Hes 53 and I am 32. Hes a traditionalistwho courted me with love-CD soundtracks featuring Bob Dylan, Elvis Presley, James Taylor, Dennis Wilson, Otis Redding, Rick Nelson, Dan Penn, Joe Cocker . . . you get the idea.
So this musical buffet in Denver should provide an eclectic view from a rock n roll historian and his wife.
To get prepped for the gig I interviewed the experts: my staff at The Florida Engineer (the magazine for the University of Florida College of Engineering). They prepped me. Marilee, my rabbit of a writer; Holly, the associate editor, and John, the quirky designer. Marilee made me a CD of cool bands she thought Id dig. John was just slightly no, totally jealous. And Holly, knowing my incessant pursuit of corporate-cool fashion, suggested I get hip before covering the festival.
Yeah, I said. Hey, how about those really short funky bangs? Can I pull it off?
Suicide bangs? she said. Yeah, thatll do it.
So sitting at my desk with Photobooth open (for non Mac users, just Google it) so I could see myself, Holly took the office scissors and gave me some kick-ass-hip-styling suicide bangs. Well see if the bangs achieve in masking the mother-of-four skin covering my wild child inside.