Lo-Fidelity:  Up in the Sky Festival review — a star is born (again)

Sometimes, I feel woefully out of touch. Case in point? This year’s inaugural Up in the Sky Music Festival at Buttermilk.

When they announced the bands in the paper, I knew but one artist: Kasey Musgraves — and only because I’d heard her song “Cardinal” (inspired by the death of friend and songwriter/mentor John Prine) playing frequently on KSPN radio. Apparently, her target demographic is teenage girls and middle-aged men navigating a midlife crisis — me. I couldn’t identify any of the other artists out of a police lineup if my life depended on it. 

Regardless, I bought a two-day GA ticket this spring because I desperately needed something to look forward to. From the X Games to the place I learned to ski and still consider a touchstone, Buttermilk is, and will always be, hallowed ground. 

There was some critical, inward-looking dialogue by our local leaders, festival promoters, business owners, and plain-ol’ townsfolk leading up to last weekend. Could Aspen support and sustain two major outdoor music festivals over the course of one summer? The answer, in a word, is a resounding “yes.” 

Once comparatively sleepy, summers in Aspen have become a relentless event-a-palooza. There’s way too much stuff to do all the time. It’s flabbergasting. I see the Up in the Sky Festival and Jazz Aspen concerts complimenting each other rather than competing, if anything. I have polar opposite emotional reactions when I hear someone say “Snowmass Town Park” (apathetic) vs. “Buttermilk” (visceral).

I like how the Up in the Sky organizers encouraged attendees to ride their bikes. The trail from town was well-marked. There was even a bike valet. I estimate they parked nearly 400 bikes over the weekend. I’ve been riding my e-bike to Jazz Fest every year since the maligned mode of transport gained legality, so this component sucked me right in. 

Upon entrance to the Up in the Sky Festival, I noticed there’s what appears to be a shortage of clothing being worn by today’s youth. Perhaps this is how tariffs are affecting young Americans? I haven’t seen that much side-boob since the Academy Awards. I pondered with mouth agape, then dove deeper into the morass of scantily clad concertgoers.

The venue arrangement was well thought-out with ample space for tons of people and a plethora of downward sightlines. The four-poster stage was gargantuan. The lights were visually stimulating, the sound was loud and clear, and the video was spot-on. The VIP section felt unobtrusive. The vending had a wide variety of food and drink offerings. There was ample shade and plenty of porta potties. Security was mellow, and there were few if any territory issues playing out that I witnessed. Despite the zombie-apocalypse, smoke-filled skies turning the full moon orange, the heinous wind died down, and the weather largely cooperated. 

I hung-out with legendary locals and met a bunch of cool people from all over the country, including a myriad of in-state, beat-seeking sojourners who traveled here for the weekend. I even got a selfie with Roger Marolt! From what I experienced and heard Friday and Saturday, everyone really enjoyed being here — including the artists.

You know who’s bringing a strong game to the local concert scene? Aspen High schoolers. Every single live music event, I see packs of kids down front, singing, dancing, engaging with the band and contributing a really fun energy. That’s what I call good parenting.

Does anyone remember the Harmony Fest produced by Paul Levine of Howling Wolf restaurant fame? I found an article with an interview where he spoke fondly about the festival he put on at Buttermilk 26 years ago to the day: “A few years after opening The Howling Wolf, we started The Aspen Harmony Music Festival. It was one of the greatest times of my life and was wonderful being a part of such incredible memories,” Paul recalled.

I totally remember that first Harmony Fest at Buttermilk in 1999. The Ratdog and Widespread Panic show is tattooed on my frontal lobe because a private jet coming in for landing on runway 33 did a full-on hot-dog, bank-shot maneuver over the venue, much to the delight of the crowd. Wouldn’t you know it, but on Saturday at 5:07 p.m., a Bombardier Challenger 300 (thanks, @asespotter) did an “Up in the Sky” flyover, as well. Later that night, I think I may’ve witnessed a drone crashing into a pine tree. 

Friday night at about 10:30 p.m., I had one of the most memorable post–concert experiences of my lifetime. After being led safely across Highway 82 by the stalwart male and female state trooper crossing guards, I found myself on the bike path heading back into town, ensconced in a peloton of nearly 100 e-bikes. Everyone had their lights on and was ringing their bells, singing and expressing a general merriment. There was a palpable “Amsterdam in Aspen” feel to the occurrence. I felt like I was finally a part of something — something bigger, something meaningful if it was just a school of inebriated fish. 

Saturday morning while perusing the farmers market, I saw a sign — a card with a watercolor cardinal by local artist Leah Potts chirped at me. That afternoon, I handed the card to a roadie backstage and kindly asked them to deliver it to Kasey Musgraves. As fate would have it, she waltzed onstage and opened with the song “Cardinal.” 

Contact Lorenzo via suityourself@sopris.net.