By Michael Somerby EBS STAFF
LIVINGSTON – There was a time when music, at least that of the
mainstream, meant more than appealing to the consumer and mighty dollar.
Albeit, perhaps the very term “mainstream” and the business
of music are, by nature, never mutually exclusive, but I can’t say for certain
as I was never alive for that purist era, and few generations living today can
claim that they were.
Even artists as far back as 1969’s Woodstock, like folk and
rock ‘n’ roll legend Neil Young, protested the presence of cameras, even
refusing to be captured on one at the groundbreaking musical event. His
performance was for those in the audience, no one else—you were there or you
weren’t, it was that simple for Young.
But even then, in the
nascent stages of live, standing-room-only-performance as we know them today,
the business of music invaded that sanctity.
Fortunately, enclaves exist where that intimate relationship
between audience and artist is
still respected.
In places like Livingston’s Pine Creek Lodge, an ethos, that of Young and his
contemporaries, lives on. This was particularly evident on
Sept. 6, when Bozeman’s Kitchen Dwellers played an entirely acoustic set to the
light of headlamps and smartphone
flashlights.
Pine Creek Lodge, best-case scenario, is a charming Montana
hospice that doubles as a one-of-a-kind venue, with a village-of-sorts layout: wooden footbridges
weave over a babbling brook between various food and drink stands, restaurants,
a humble wooden stage and refurbished shipping containers that serve as chic
hotel rooms, all under a webbing of string lights—the hallmark sign of good
times to be had outdoors.
But, on Sept. 6, it was worst-case scenario—the power was
completely knocked out—which paradoxically revealed the sturdy constitution of
every player present, from the caliber of musician to the type of audience Pine
Creek Lodge attracts.
Minutes before the band took the stage, the lights flickered
momentarily, which many took as a signal the show was soon to begin. Only, they
never turned back on; Pine Creek Lodge was suddenly and without warning devoid
of its signature, pink and green marquee directing foot traffic to the entrance
and the string lights that connect the venue’s various enclaves and offerings.
At the outdoor bar, pasted over with posters from past acts
like Trout Steak Revival, Blitzen Trapper and Big Sky favorite Pinky and The
Floyd, patrons used lighters, lit-cigarettes and headlamps to help aid the
bartender in keeping the kegs flowing.
Other concertgoers, drenched from sporadic rainfall, stomped
through the growing layer of mud in the darkness, with those in flip-flops and
Chacos humorously lamenting their plight.
“It’s funny, we probably had 500 people there that night,
and we had one person ask for a
refund,” said Chip Hurt, owner of the lodge. “At one point I
was talking to somebody, and they said, ‘This is amazing, nobody here even cares
that the lights aren’t turning back on.’”
Hurt was originally concerned, but then reminded himself of
what he’s helped
to build over four years of booking music for the venue.
“I was stressed for a second and that’s not really the vibe
of Pine Creek Lodge. Let’s roll with the punches. This is like hanging out at
your friend’s
yard, let’s continue to show people that.”
And without a hitch, the four-man psychedelic bluegrass
fusion group, consisting of a banjo, guitar, standup bass and mandolin, began
to play an acoustic set for a crowd that was virtually unfazed, jigging and
two-stepping to the music all the same.
Is Pine Creek Lodge’s band shell equipped for such a
performance? No, the acoustics were not ideal, but the crowd managed to stifle
conversations and noise, save for some appropriately timed hooting and
hollering after a deserving solo or riff, to allow the artists to thrive in
their unexpectedly unfavorable conditions.
And whether part of a predetermined set list or cleverly
chosen on the spot to match the events of the evening, the band launched into a
cover of the Grateful Dead’s “New Speedway Boogie,” with a fitting chorus of
“One way or another, this darkness got to give.”
The crowd sang along with every word.
At one point, frontman, vocalist and banjo player Torrin
Daniels announced, “If you’re here tonight, you clearly give a [expletive]
about us, and I really appreciate that.”
If there was ever a statement that aligns with the original
intent of music, it was that, and the bond between artist and audience secured.
There was no sea of filming smartphones
to crane necks around, no hollow, viral and choreographed dance
moves to know, and not a bad attitude in sight despite the setback.
There was only music, and Pine Creek Lodge was the venue—you
just had to be there.
Visit pinecreeklodgemontana.com to view upcoming events.
