Asher on Aspen: ‘No Place’ I’d rather be

Buttermilk Mountain was unrecognizable this weekend — not the powder-white shrine of winter, but a sprawling, musical creature alive with strangers, sound, and the reckless energy of a first-time festival. The inaugural Up in the Sky Festival had arrived, dreamed up by Belly Up Aspen and C3 Presents, and we were the willing guinea pigs.

Aspen has been aching for a proper summer music festival — something to break up the long stretch between closing day and the first snow. Up in the Sky answered with two nights and two headliners from opposite ends of the spectrum: Rüfüs Du Sol’s hypnotic electronica on Friday and Kacey Musgraves’ warm country-pop on Saturday. The supporting cast was just as colorful — Friday featured Shae District, Glass Beams, Suki Waterhouse, and SG Lewis before the Australian trio closed; Saturday brought Jensen McRae, Nessa Barrett, Role Model, and British rock band Glass Animals setting the stage for Musgraves.

Of course, the lineup was just the blueprint; the real story lived in the crowd, the sound, the pulse. Big groups at festivals are a lawless experiment in logistics: one second you’re all together, the next someone vanishes for a tequila shot or a bathroom break. By sunset, the odds of sticking as a unit are basically zero. And yet — miraculously — just as Rüfüs Du Sol dropped into “You Were Right” and the sky caught fire, the group had reassembled, perfectly in sync with the moment.

The bass barreled through the ground and into our chests, making our hearts pound in time. People on shoulders swayed as smoke drifted upward. Lights cut through the night, breaking the darkness into sharp patterns — then the full moon appeared, bright and commanding. Phones went up and everyone’s attention went to the sky. Mother Nature called time.

Rüfüs paused mid-set, gazing at the horizon like a man seeing it for the first time. “Looks like I’m on my knees again,” he sang, his voice clean over the driving beat. Layers of synth and percussion swelled, each note precise, rising and breaking in waves that made your chest thrum. For a moment, the mountain, the music, and the crowd felt like parts of one breathing, living thing.

By the end, glitter was everywhere — on cheeks, in hair, coating the sweat-shined skin of strangers. Even the boyfriends had surrendered to the sparkle. When Rüfüs closed with “No Place,” the lyrics landed like prophecy: full moon overhead, air vibrating with sound, every heart in the crowd aligned to the sentiment. We were exactly where we were meant to be.

Saturday was another world entirely — grounded, twangy, and unexpectedly lush. We arrived to find Kacey Musgraves singing “Butterflies,” her warm, buttery voice framed by a curtain of greenery that wrapped the stage like a greenhouse. In a deer-print dress, hair loose and flowing, she stood at the center of it all, steel guitar weaving through the night as a thousand voices rose to meet hers.

Her delivery was effortless, the low notes anchored and rich, the highs clear and crystalline. She let moments hang just long enough for the words to land. When she sang “Follow Your Arrow,” it was more than a performance — it was a statement, a country anthem that embraces weed and queerness in a genre that often doesn’t. My friends and I belted every line, feeling the chorus roll across the crowd like a collective exhale.

Later, as the full moon crested over Aspen, Musgraves launched into her hit “Neon Moon.” The steel guitar’s plaintive cry rang out across the crowd, her vocals lingering just enough to make the massive stage feel intimate. The audience leaned in, swaying in unison, cast under the same spell, bound together by the music and the moonlit night.

Just when the festival could have eased to a close, the organizers threw in another surprise: afterparties each night, each an entirely different scene. Friday became a throbbing, late-night dance floor where the DJ kept the energy climbing until late. Saturday shifted gears with a country singer outside Home Team BBQ, whiskey in the air, voices rising into the dark.

Up in the Sky may have been Aspen’s first summer music festival, but it didn’t feel tentative. It felt like a promise — one we hope the city of Aspen keeps every summer. Two nights. One mountain. Dozens of artists. And the reminder that sometimes, the moon will outshine even the brightest stage.