Contributed by:
John Zwick
Article Contributed on: 7/12/2006 11:37:04 PM
It's nice how things come together sometimes. The last time Denver would be graced by the amazing
Coles Whalen until September just happened to coincide with a whiskey date I had with another musician - one I've spilled so much ink over that if I were to name her again, she and I would be accused of payola.
A whiskey date is like a real date, only you don't go home with them when it's done. Or if you do (like I did,) it's to watch a bunch of musicians hunkered over a laptop, picking apart the details of their live set and to wait off the lingering effects of liquor before making a hike back to the car.
Now how had I never seen Coles play before? There's a gorgeous familiarity to her music. It's not like you've heard it before - more like you've always known it. It fills that "hey, where the hell did
Norah Jones go?" gap pretty well.
Not all of the Walnut Room caught on, though. It's pretty nice digs - a slick setup of chrome and rock settled up in the middle of nowhere at 31st and Walnut. It's not the first place you'd expect
Striped Shirt Guy to make an appearance, but he was full in effect. Striped Shirt Guy doesn't like to compete with musicians for the attention of the lady across the table from him and poor Coles Whalen had to really bust out the pipes to reach out over the din of conversation. The sound at the Walnut Room is invariably great, though, and its intimate feel oughtta be a real treat when
Pete Yorn makes a stop there later.
I caught up with Coles after the show (and too many rounds of Knob Creek.) After what was probably an embarassingly cussin'-laden attempt to explain how [effin'] great she was, I'm pretty sure I got the "I have to stand over there now" response. A good choice, young lady. If there's anything worse than a drunk, it's a drunk made sentimental by music. No one can hold it against you.