INTERVIEW: Grass (Denver Westword 11/4/16)


“Boulder Band Grass Is Young But Not Green”
by Adam Perry for Denver Wesword, 11/4/2016

The creative young Boulder trio Grass is indicative of the music being pushed over the last year by ambitious local cassette label First Base Tapes: gritty and experimental, but catchy, clever and (while ear-bleedin’ loud) deceptively pleasant.

Twenty-four-year-old singer/guitarist Michael Colussi, a University of Colorado student from Indiana, told Westword that Grass’s debut album, Dragwire, was recorded in just two days on a “beat-up” 2008 iMac, with minimal subsequent overdubs. Half of Dragwire was tracked at the band’s warehouse space next to the Bus Stop strip club in Boulder, and half at a warehouse in Denver also used by psychedelic band Tom Waits for No Man.

Dragwire, distributed by First Base Tapes via cassette and download, will have its official release this Saturday, November 5, in Boulder when Grass plays a house party featuring four other bands. Colussi says that playing relatively brief sets at house parties and warehouses with a slew of other acts on the bill is the only current option for a fledgling Boulder rock group, and he’s okay with that.

“It’s challenging, and there can be a feeling of competition, but we’ve learned to do well with them because it’s basically all we know at this point,” he says. “Short sets are just what we know how to do, so we play hard and pack up. We’re also a relatively new band, so we don’t have six albums’ worth of material to draw from.”

Read the rest of this feature at 


tom trident

The Spirit of Dead Leaf Lives On at Trident Cafe in Boulder
by Adam Perry for Westword 7/8/2015

Boulder’s iconic Trident Cafe, which opened in 1980, is a good place to go if you want to feel bad about your fashion sense. Tom Abraham, one of the cafe’s numerous baristas, can generally be found behind the counter in the daytime sporting his trademark fuzzy black hair and glasses, three-day stubble and the kind of sleek clothes Franz Ferdinand might wear on stage. The 26-year-old former University of Colorado student was one half of the brains behind the now-defunct Boulder indie warehouse Dead Leaf, which closed at the end of last year, and he worked around the clock this spring to put Trident on the map as a reliable venue for Boulder musicians, poets and comedians in need of a performance space.

“We have the back patio as our performance space and just got things up and running in May,” says Abraham, who was given the job as Trident’s booking agent in April. “The constant rain and cold kept people away; now it’s starting to look great.”

Slowly but surely, Trident is bringing back a small portion of the underground vibe that Dead Leaf’s disappearance left behind, though not what Abraham calls the “devil-may-care” spirit of the arts warehouse’s raucous all-night concerts, which were filled with young Boulder residents alienated by the otherwise stale selection of bluegrass, alt-folk and jam-band shows around town.

“It’s a little bit more of a low-key environment [than Dead Leaf],” says Abraham, “suitable for more thought-provoking events and performances.

“I think the philosophy that we’ve had — that I’ve been trying to maintain — is having the space for budding artists and musicians, really trying to be accepting of, ‘Cool, you’ve only played one show ever? I’m down to give you a slot.’”

According to musician and poet Benjamin Bentele, who is running the Trident’s new Monday silent-film series (which features live musical accompaniment), “It ain’t that [we’ve] eschewed the rank nonsense of Boulder more than the rest, but it’s home, a corner at a time. We’ve nestled into something new.

“Coffee shops are generally much too hippity-jittery for music — eyes and egos flitting around all over,” Bentele continues. “But a patio: Stretch! Breathe! Sip, slurp tea. And no captives in the audience. [Patrons] and musicians at the Laughing Goat [another Boulder coffee shop] so often compete for the same limited air.”

Trident’s humble wooden stage and tables out back suggest a more obvious performing environment than that of most cafes, and in the past two weeks, it has hosted such diverse acts as hip-hop instrumentalists August Louko and Sphinx Guillano; psychedelic folk act Bareface; and singer-songwriters Annie Lo & Co.

Most important to Abraham, however, is that Trident aims to host an interesting event of some kind just about every night this summer, including lectures and interactive theater, comedy and movie screenings in addition to music.

BEHIND THE IMPROBABLE DEAD LEAF: Rise of a Boulder Arts Warehouse


Dead Leaf Is Among Colorado’s Most Exciting New Venues, But Time May Be Running Out

by Adam Perry for Westword

One of Boulder’s most promising new art spaces is Dead Leaf, founded by Tom Abraham and Colin Wilcox.

Abraham is soft-spoken, every careful word seeming to come from an organized mind that, in the case of setting up events at Dead Leaf, is focused on smoothness and detail. In contrast, Wilcox gives great talks before Dead Leaf’s “Silent But…” weekly silent-film series and is a bilingual intellectual who projects a haphazard, fun-loving attitude. He has also proven skilled at coordinating events and drawing young people to Dead Leaf, which opened in January. Despite their success, however, Wilcox and Abraham aren’t sure whether their venue will survive the one-year mark.

“We had a house together in Boulder called Shrimp Sandwich when [Wilcox] came back from studying in Berlin a couple years ago,” says Abraham, who met Wilcox in the sixth grade at Douglas County High School in Castle Rock. They later reunited at the University of Colorado. “We’d have music, and sometimes about fifty people would come. We’d go ’til 3 a.m. and the cops would never come, which now I find strange. When [Wilcox] went to Europe again and came back [last fall], we started looking at places [to hold events], and it felt like a sort of continuation [of Shrimp Sandwich].”

Dead Leaf is housed in a 1,500-square-foot, two-room industrial space on Boulder’s northern edge. Even in the below-zero temperatures that were present when Dead Leaf opened, Boulder hipsters, having really nowhere else to see cutting-edge local music or art since the demise of Astroland three years ago, boldly trudged through snow in droves all winter to be a part of Abraham and Wilcox’s vision.

The first “real event” at Dead Leaf was a Male Blonding show; hearing even vaguely punk music in Boulder was a breath of fresh air, despite the cigarettes. “That was maybe the one political thing when we opened,” says Wilcox. “I wanted people to be able to smoke inside. Somehow that seemed important.”

From the start, it was obvious that the duo was trying to book music that it’s not possible to see anywhere else in Boulder. But starting an underground arts warehouse — which presents film, art installations of all kinds, poetry readings and concerts — in a town long notorious for lacking a venue with edge (Dead Leaf has so far brought in acts like Total Slacker, Paleo and David Dondero) wasn’t as intentionally political as you’d think.

“It’s not because of that that we’re doing it,” Wilcox explains. “Everything [musical] that we’ve booked, with the exception of a few acts, were just bands I really like. The ulterior motive is obviously there, but the point is just to book good music, or a good whatever, no matter how that comes.”

Even deciding what kind of events Dead Leaf will hold is a work in progress, says Abraham. “Initially we were trying to just invite people to check out the space so that people would want to bring in their art, whatever it is. It’s kind of hokey, but I just enjoy creating a space for people to interact and relate with each other on a totally different level than at a bar or even just a normal venue, where there’s more separation between the audience and the performers.”

Irene Joyce, a former Naropa student who is a fixture at Dead Leaf events and sometimes volunteers at the door — where the charge is generally $7 to $10 — says, “It’s such a haven for so many people, which is really incredible.”

Wilcox and Abraham took a lot of pointers from the now-defunct warehouse Astroland, which put on some great shows, including a late-night set by DJ Spooky, but had problems with noise and alcohol violations that were eventually the venue’s demise.

“[Astroland] did a lot of cool shit,” says Wilcox. “We talked to them a lot. We read all the write-ups on what went down; we really did our research. We learned a lot about what flies and doesn’t fly, and got input from a lot of people. We were meticulous about that.”

Keeping promotion to word-of-mouth invites, texts and stealth action on Facebook was part of Dead Leaf’s effort to survive this long, and (according to Wilcox) a big reason that the audience has such great energy.

“At the beginning you just don’t want to get shut down, so you don’t want to talk to [media],” he says. “And it’s incredible what that does to the crowd, in that they come because they heard about it from someone, not because they read about it. If someone says, ‘Come with me to this weird warehouse because there’s a show going on there,’ you’ll probably just say yes, and that tends to make a good crowd. Whereas someone who reads about it in a newspaper — no disrespect — it might be a lazier crowd, without the same sense of adventurousness.”

“We don’t have drug issues. We don’t have fights. We don’t have really have anyone getting too belligerent.”

Dead Leaf also doesn’t have a lease past January 15, 2015, and the two Douglas County High graduates are unsure whether they’ll continue. The highly anticipated concert there on November 13 featuring Denver indie darlings Inner Oceans is likely to attract more people on one night than Dead Leaf has seen so far; that could be a test of viability — or just the first in a series of going-away celebrations.

“I think we’re pretty solidly not renewing,” Abraham says, “although it’s nice, now that we’re saying that we’re stopping, that people who’ve never even been there are asking us not to. But I could imagine [continuing], especially if we’re at least breaking even.”

Wilcox is a little more pessimistic, which is surprising from a guy who says his main goal with Dead Leaf is “having a good party and not getting arrested.”

“It hurts my heart to say it, but there’s not a good chance we’ll renew the lease in January. It’s sad, because I’m gonna be depressed as fuck in January. I see it coming, but there are other things I want to do.”

The Poetry of Cinema – Naropa and the University of Colorado Present MOVING IMAGES

The Poetry of Cinema
CU and Naropa explore the links between film and the written word
by Adam Perry for Boulder Weekly, 6-23-2011

Though an obscure class or two on film studies or screenwriting sometimes appears on the course list at Naropa University, the Buddhist-inspired Boulder school has no film studies major. However, since 1999, Naropa has enjoyed the presence of the novelist, singer-songwriter and screenwriter Junior Burke, who is on the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics faculty and was formerly its chair. Burke has also taught film studies at the University of Colorado Boulder for the past half-dozen years, and he was an integral part of bringing this weekend’s Moving Images poetry and film conference to Naropa’s Summer Writing Program (SWP) in conjunction with CU’s film studies and creative writing programs.

Billed as “the first symposium of its kind, bringing scholars, filmmakers and poets together to explore the intersection of film and poetry,” Moving Images is the product of Burke’s introduction to University of Chicago heavyweight Tom Gunning (director of the school’s Department of Cinema and Media Studies) two years ago.

“Tom was coming out here and doing some teaching at CU, and I met him through [former CU film studies chair] Dan Boord,” Burke tells Boulder Weekly. “He had just received a Mellon grant and was going to be able to put on several events around the country, so we decided to put on a film/poetics event at Naropa, and it’s been two years of planning.

“It came about through the history between CU film studies and the Kerouac School, in terms of strengthening the relationship between film and poetics,” Burke says. “In some ways it’s an interesting fit because of Stan Brakhage [who taught at CU until his death in 2003] being the founding spirit of the film studies department over at CU and his experimental mode and his stature in that little alternative film world. In many ways that is a good fit in terms of the Kerouac School being an ‘outrider’ lineage and experimental for its time.”

The late Stan Brakhage

Over three days at Naropa and CU, approximately 20 speakers — including academics, writers and filmmakers — will use Moving Images’ platform to explore the relationship between poetry and moving pictures since the era of silent film. According to Lisa Birman, director of Naropa’s Summer Writing program, the fact that Moving Pictures coincides with the second week of SWP wasn’t planned at all.

“Funnily enough, we already had a film/poetics theme for week two of the Summer Writing Program before we knew this was gonna happen. So when Junior came and said, ‘What do you think about this idea?’ the timing was actually just phenomenal,” Birman says.

CU film studies Professor Phil Solomon, who considers himself a “poetic filmmaker” and whose own filmmaking strives for “poetic overtones,” is also participating in Moving Images and calls it “a perfect storm.”

“I am interested in promoting a stronger relationship between [CU] film studies and Naropa,” he says. “I’m not particularly interested in the literal juxtaposition of poetry and film. In point of fact, I have rarely seen it done successfully — that is, images accompanying a poem being read on the soundtrack. For me, poetry lives in blessed silence on the written page. More often than not, I prefer to read it than hear it read aloud — so what interests me are what I would call ‘poetic films’ and what I would call ‘cinematic poetry,’ poems which evoke a cinematic sense or evoke a cinematic sense of place or atmosphere and create uncanny juxtapositions — like film editing or dissolves — as you scan over the words.”

During Moving Images, Solomon will be analyzing Brakhage’s notable 1980 film, Murder Psalm, as it relates to “the crucial differences between image metaphor and language metaphor.” Solomon stresses that he was “thrilled” at the news that Gunning, whom he calls “the premiere film scholar in the U.S.,” is coming to Boulder to talk about the relationship between film and poetry. Unfortunately, Gunning turned down Boulder Weekly’s interview request because of three dissertation defenses due in the past week, but perhaps his involvement in this weekend’s conference will speak for itself.

“I know his fine critical writing,” Kerouac School founder and internationally renowned poet Anne Waldman says of Gunning, “and it will be a great honor and pleasure to encounter him live and addressing the creative community in Boulder. We welcome this unprecedented collaboration.”

Naropa’s faculty has included such legendary film-interested literary icons as William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg and the wild-eyed archivist Harry Smith. Still, perhaps no one in Naropa’s colorful history of revered underground icons has been so involved with the juxtaposition of film and poetry as Waldman, whose interest in film began in her youth and who has been collaborating with her husband, the filmmaker Ed Bowes, for the past decade.

“I grew up in Manhattan and saw a lot of experimental films as a young per son, which opened and illuminated the dark cave of my brain,” Waldman tells Boulder Weekly. “Montage and jumpcuts and syncretic layering have always been important in my own writing. Manatee/Humanity [Penguin, 2009] has a section mimicking a film narrative. I’ve worked with filmmakers over the years, and appeared in an early Adolphus Mekas film [and] also in an early film by Robert Kramer.”

Anne Waldman with Ginsberg at Naropa in the '70s

Waldman, who just finished working with Bowes on a short film tribute to Akilah Oliver (the beloved poet and Naropa teacher who tragically passed away in February), says she often finds “extraordinary rhythm in the movement of film, in its quick transitions, in its gestures in time and space, much like the unexpected moves of poetry and like our own metabolism.”

Moving Images will be a welcome celebration of ideas, passions and connections between CU and Naropa, but also a rare high point in the recent history of the Kerouac School, which was rumored to be on the chopping block amid the ongoing “reorganization” of Naropa, which confirmed in May that it is contemplating a move out of Boulder.

According to Burke, the elimination of the graduate and undergraduate writing programs at Naropa in favor of keeping just the 37-year-old Summer Writing Program (probably the most well-known and well-respected part of Naropa outside of Boulder) “was never going to happen, and we weren’t going to let it happen.”

As for the recent anger over Naropa President Stuart Lord’s controversial declaration a few weeks ago that he intends to relocate the school’s historic Allen Ginsberg Library to the basement of Naropa’s administration building, Burke said simply, “I feel that the Allen Ginsberg library is a tangible manifestation of everything that’s been built here, in terms of the Kerouac School, and I feel it has to be preserved.”

When asked about Naropa’s future, and the future of the Kerouac School in particular, Burke was a bit more cryptic.

“There’s been a lot of changes, but I feel pretty positive about the present. I don’t know about the bigger picture, but I know the level of commitment of the people I work with here, and I think that we’re gonna be able to continue doing what we’ve been doing.”

With Moving Images descending on Boulder this weekend, the Kerouac School’s present looks bright.

UPDATE (June 25): I’d like to report a necessary correction to my article. Apparently it was an error to say that Dr. Lord “intends” to move the Allen Ginsberg library, as sources have reported there was an unsuccessful plan in place to move the library by July and, while he has been aware of talks about moving the library, Dr. Lord was not aware of the plan to take action so fast. There will be more open discussion at Naropa about the library’s “expansion” in the fall.

IFS Turns 70: A Chat with Pablo Kjolseth

Emphasis on “Film”
Boulder’s International Film Series Turns 70
by Adam Perry for Boulder Weekly

Drunk on the seemingly rocket-propelled success of the Boulder International Film Festival, many Boulder journalists have recently filled BIFF-related articles with complaints like “There’s nothing like this happening around here” and “There’s nowhere to see International films in Boulder.” Sitting in my living room recently with my toddler pulling at his shoes, International Film Series director Pablo Kjolseth represented living proof that those complaints are erroneous.

The affordable ($6; $5 for students) International Film Series is a celluloid-focused Boulder institution attached to the Film Studies Program at the University of Colorado, and it’s been going strong since 1941, when IFS began showing eclectic black-and-white 16mm titles. With C.U.’s Muenzinger Auditorium as its chief venue, IFS now fills nearly every night in Boulder—skipping only summers—with exciting documentaries, unique features from around the globe, and mint-condition reels of inimitable oldies.

IFS celebrates its 70th anniversary this weekend with a Saturday matinee showing of a private collector’s print of the legendary ’80s Tom Waits’ concert film Big Time (still not on DVD), an evening screening of Straight to Hell Returns (the new retooled edition of the punk classic) and a raucous concert at the Absinthe House featuring Veronica and Nuns of Brixton (yes, a Clash cover band that dresses up as nuns).

Beginning with a technical lesson packed with rarified language such as “sprockets” and “platter houses,” Kjolseth, a C.U. graduate who grew up in Boulder and has been programming IFS for 14 years, schooled me on the rapidly changing world of film screening. Enjoy a few snippets as we help celebrate IFS’ 70th birthday.

Boulder Weekly: What’s the difference between IFS and the mainstream movie-going experience?

Pablo Kjolseth: We’re dedicated to the experience of the cinema, and then conversation afterwards. We’re not trying to make money off of candy and soda pop. And if you go to Cinemark, for example, they’re phasing out all their film. I find the evolution from film to digital stultifying, because people are getting a little too computer happy, which makes for a lot of sloppy bullshit. We’re very much dedicated to celluloid, though we show some digital.

BW: Why are you so passionate about film?

PK: I consider film to be one of the most important art forms of our time. To me, being visually literate is so important, now more than ever. We’re being bombarded with more visual images today than in any other point in human history, and we take it for granted. We don’t even acknowledge how we’re being manipulated. Sometimes it’s so obvious—you watch Fox News and you see the propaganda and the drumbeats. But other times it’s just branding and people trying to make an impact, distracting you in different ways. And it chips away at us, especially if you’re not visually literate. So to me it’s an incredibly important way of looking at the world, and it’s an ongoing education because visual arts and mediums are constantly changing, and the way we interact with them is changing. It’s a constantly evolving process, and the art form constantly evolves along with it.

BW: How did you originally get interested in movies?

PK: My parents used to regulate how much TV I could watch—an hour a day. I would save up that half hour so that I could watch the “Creature Feature” double features on the weekend. That got me going, and when I was about six I really wanted to see Jaws more than anything in the world, and my parents said I could only see it if I read the book. I was six! But I read it, and luckily Jaws was in the theater forever. Actually, [that was] at the United Artists Regency on Walnut [now the Absinthe House], where we’re having the 70th anniversary concert. You know, Boulder used to have a really good International art-house film scene. I saw Star Wars at the Flatirons Theater, which is now a medical marijuana dispensary. And I was watching movies at the International Film Series as well.

BW: What’s your take on the state of filmmaking in Boulder today?

PK: I actually think we have a film scene that’s percolating. It’s bubbling. A lot of people are coming here who already have backgrounds working with studios and companies—real studio connections and also some money. But there are always people here doing their own thing, and I think that combination is making the background noise get louder and louder every year. As far as whether they have a platform right now…my platform is international celluloid. I still hold a torch for celluloid, but I have had local filmmakers, and the amount of submissions I get is crazy. At some point I sense that, because of that background noise, there will be a reason to do a weekly or monthly dedication to local filmmakers.

BW: After all these years, what’s your favorite film?

PK: I have so many favorite films that the easiest way I can answer that question without feeling like I’m slighting all these other films is…if you could rephrase that to ask what film I’ve watched the most times. The two that pop up are Brazil—I’ve watched that over 20 times—and, after that, I would say Evil Dead 2. I just love that film. If I’m ever really depressed, it’s the movie I go to watch. No matter how bad your day is going, at least you haven’t had to chainsaw your girlfriend in half, fight zombies, cut off your hand and get sucked into the past-vortex. I come out feeling pretty good, going “my life’s not so bad.”

BW: What can you tell us about the people who started the IFS 70 years ago and how you’re not only influenced and inspired by their legacy but also striving to maintain it?

PK: James Sandoe, who also helped launch the Colorado Shakespeare Festival, started the IFS as a labor of love, and that baton has been passed on thanks to people like Forrest Williams, Virgil Grillo, and many others whose contributions I have tried to keep track of on the timeline that I’ve put up on our website. One of the interesting things about the IFS is that it was a series initiated by academic cinephiles who really cared about film as art, and they were very well read and up-to-speed on the wealth of both international and independent cinema that existed beyond Hollywood and overseas – the kind of films that normally only screened in big metropolitan hubs. They brought those films to Boulder at a time when the population here was still hovering around 15,000 people or so, and they slowly cultivated an audience for directors like Jean Cocteau, Godard, Antonioni, Cassavetes, etc. – and slowly, other theaters took notice of the crowds that were coming out for these films and also started booking similar fare. During the ’60s and ’70s Boulder even enjoyed a nice boom in various specialty and arthouse cinemas. Back then it was very profitable! The IFS being a nonprofit associated with the university it reinvested the funds to buy 16mm films for the university. These were then used by many faculty members, including my father, in classes, and pretty soon a natural progression occurred where there were many classes devoted to certain types of films, which when coupled with the visionary ideas of key faculty members, like Virgil Grillo and others, helped give rise to the C.U. film studies program. What the C.U. Film Studies Program now offers is an amazing roster of learned faculty, authors, filmmakers, and artists that keeps growing stronger with each passing year. My own experiences there were nothing less than revelatory. As a long-time Boulderite who started watching films at the IFS as a very young child, and on up through my time as a Film Studies major at C.U., I’m very much indebted to both and I try to honor its roots by staying abreast of rising new talents that are out there, while simultaneously paying respects to cinemas rich past.