Day 11: Ogden, UT
Welcome
Yesterday we made our first visit to the town of Ogden, Utah.
Our day began in a nondescript parking lot next to a building labelled Ogden City Justice Court. We were around sixty kilometres north of Salt Lake City in this quiet town, once a great railway hub and now the country’s sixth-best place to raise a family according to Forbes magazine. The bus gradually emptied as people rose and headed in to explore the venue, a short walk away across the carpark. It was called Ogden Twilight – an outdoor amphitheatre of lush grass that is served by a robust concrete stage, which is in turn served by generous backstage facilities. Our own green room was shaped like a letter J and felt like a mirror maze outfitted with comfortable couches.
Waiting for us on the green room table was a fresh box of famous Mormon Muffins and I split one of these down the middle, attempted to butter it, gave up, and added it to my breakfast plate which seconds later included a very firm nectarine. I poured myself a mug of steaming hot coffee, black and strong, the way I prefer it, and headed outside to enjoy the grass and the sunshine.
The grass of the Ogden Amphitheatre was top tier stuff. Emerald green, sturdy and very erect, but still soft enough to sit down on with a high amount of exposed skin. I sat with my coffee and my muffin and my nectarine as Alvvays’s crew went about setting up their gear, battling a determined breeze and occasional raindrops that kept persisting despite the sunny weather.
Tristan became the first Beth to end up with Boints on the board yesterday. We went for a walk along Ogden’s main street, a historic stretch of shops, and found ourselves a vintage store to explore. Our beloved drummer found himself a perfectly fitting pair of vintage Levis and then a crew-neck jumper with a yellow labrador which he gifted to our beloved vocalist Liz.
It was our turn to soundcheck when we got back to the venue, and we had just begun setting the stage when the call came in from the venue manager: lightning warning – ten miles. They take their storms seriously in this part of the country. We abandoned our instruments and retreated to the green room to wait things out. Twenty minutes later we walked back out onto a lightning free stage and resumed setting up. It was an easy stage to play on and our soundcheck proceeded smoothly save for a few weather interruptions. Jeremy, a heroic venue technician battled the wind to hold up a tarpaulin for Gabe, the only way to block the sunlight from his mixing console and make the screen readable. Then the rain arrived again, just a short shower but with jumbo raindrops, huge globules of liquid that could splotch a shirt in seconds. Another venue hand arrived to provide tarpaulin assistance and Gabe was immersed in the plastic sheet, completing the remainder of soundcheck from underneath.
The evening kicked off with a short set from a local band called Homephone, a duo from Salt Lake City who last night expanded into a six piece that played intricate arrangements and grooved hard. Our set time soon arrived, and we walked out onto the buffed concrete stage to find a full amphitheatre and a beautifully clear evening. It was one of the best shows we’ve executed in a while, helped along by the clear sounding stage and the smoothness of the ground we stood on, highly polished concrete that made it easy to do all my dance moves. The sun slowly set as we played and as the light softened, we played harder. A lady at the back mimed some fierce downstrokes at us and we complied. From time to time we could see Gabe as he stretched above the crowd to catch a glimpse of the stage.
It was our second to last show with Alvvays and after packing up we rushed out into the crowd to catch the whole show. It was unsurprisingly brilliant, a triumph of songwriting and performance, and a joyous watch in this beautiful outdoor setting.