​I kept hearing about this one festival in Denver ever since I moved out here three years ago. “You’ve got to go to UMS!!” my friend Kevin would insist every time we talked about music. “Put it on your calendar, don’t miss it. You’ll love it.”
 
But that’s in July, I would protest, when we talked in October, December, March, and so on. Sounds great, but that’s down the road, and I’ll plan for it when it gets closer. And how good could this local showcase be anyway?
 
It turns out the Underground Music Showcase is probably the best thing you could do all year in Denver. Mark your calendars, people! Yes, a whole year in advance. Here’s why:
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Music has this amazing power to shape your life, by simply being its soundtrack. In the moment, it can serve as strength, inspiration, comfort, or simply helpful white noise. Years later, you will hear a song you used to listen to, and it will trigger memories of people, places, or emotions. A song or an album becomes a placeholder, a marker in one’s life – for better or for worse.
 
I find it ironic then, that Kiltro’s debut album, Creatures of Habit, was recorded during one of the worst years of my life – because since its release, it’s become one of my all-time favorites. 
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Andrew Thoreen is a prolific songwriter and musician based in the Twin Cities, who has been doing this whole "making music" thing for a long while now. You might know him from his work with J.E. Sunde, his own band Har-di-Har (with partner Julie), his individual work under andandending, as a trombone player, or just as someone you've met in the music scene around Minneapolis or St. Paul. Yet he took time this past year to remove himself from this social network, to work on making new music – an endeavor often fraught with depression, anxiety, and isolation, despite the stereotypical glamorous appeal and reputation of being a musician. 

The resulting EP, Songs of Isolation for Rock Quartet, dips its toes in the water today with its first single, "I Know What It Takes." But instead of trying to cover up the perils of this creative journey, Thoreen admits them openly. The song itself is all about his struggle to keep making music, learning new skills needed to do so, and the doubts and obstacles that consistently get in the way. He illustrates this self-directed pep-talk with a lush sonic landscape of vocal harmonies, driving guitar chords, and perfectly mixed and mastered drums. You can hear his experimentation in the composition: taps of cymbals play along with messy guitar licks, echoes of his own lyrics chase him like the thoughts in his own head. Things fall apart and come back together perfectly in sync, the layers hang loose and then line up again. This track is like a trip in his own head: we hear the doubts, but also the persistence, the genuine desire driving him to keep going, to keep making – and the satisfying feeling when things actually come together. Or as he says: "Cause I know when it breaks down, we've gotta make something good."

To listen to "I Know What It Takes" and read from Thoreen himself about how it came into being, hit "read more." 
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There is an entire symphony within Buke and Gase’s opening track of their recently released album, Scholars. “Stumbler” wakes up hazily, like the groggy narrative it comes to tell. “I fall down on the weekend,” Arone Dyer repeats diligently, over layers of sound that build and crash around her. “You couldn’t find a better friend than me,” she finally admits, through a form of electronic distortion – before the song again takes a compete turn, jumping between tones and instruments. The sounds often make no sense, yet are guttural, instinctual, familiar. They resonate, they clash. They ache, they irritate. They spark curiosity, movement, discovery. And so it begins. Arone Dyer (her) and Aron Sanchez (him) have initiated us into their reimagined landscape, given us a test. And a warning: hang on for the ride. (There’s nothing else quite like it.) Are you ready? 

This year, I went to 14 shows. That’s only about one per month on average. Back when I lived in Minneapolis, there was a time when I went to almost 14 shows in one month alone. But I haven’t lived in Minneapolis for over two years now, and this year was full of many, many other events. Thankfully, a good number of them are still music related.
 
In January, I went to Norway for an Arctic science and policy conference, one of the best weeks of my graduate career and my life. I pursued stories in Alaska and back in Minneapolis, interviewed people all over the world about the arts in a changing Arctic, worked for Nature Conservancy magazine, graduated with my master’s degree, visited San Francisco for the first time in seven years, photographed live shows, interviewed Kimbra on the phone (!!!), finally saw Dessa perform live, took my best friend to her first ever indie show (Wye Oak), started a new full-time job, moved within town, visited New York for an arts and climate change workshop, travelled to Germany and the UK for work, saw Reinhardt Buhr perform on the street in Berlin, and most recently, found myself back in Washington, D.C. for work – where I saw The Japanese House live. I made many new life-long connections, visited old friends, and lost my grandpa in the spring. It’s been an amazing and difficult year, in so many ways. But through it all, as always, there has been great new music. And that’s the one thing I hope never changes. ​