D Note 9 year anniversary weekend!

D portmanteau,

We have two outstanding evenings of music planned for you this weekend.

Friday night is extra special because it is our 9 year anniversary party. 9 years! Just shy of a decade. 9% of a century. Whodathunkit? We have asked some good friends to play for our party. We start off with Wonderlic at 6:30, who will be joined by The DeGraff Brothers Adam and Jeremy at 7:30pm playing a suite of songs about the D Note itself. Then at 8:30pm we have Matt Kowal (of The Reals) and friends. Some of you have been around long enough to remember The Reals, one of our all time favorite D Note bands with beautiful and memorable songs and a super fun rootsy Americana break-down for dancing. The evening ends with Stonebraker, another favorite local Americana band with great energy. $5. We really hope you can make it down to help us celebrate number 9, number 9, number 9.

Saturday night we have an embarrassment of riches, three stellar world-music bands, starting with the Latin Reggae of Mono Verde at 7pm (another of our all time favorite dance bands), followed by the African reggae of Irie Still at 9p and ending with Pink Hawks. Pink Hawks is a Fela Kuti inspired Afrobeat band. We heard them on KGNU and were WOWED. We feel super lucky to have them coming to the D Note on Saturday. $10

We can't tell you how excited we are for both of these shows. It is going to be one of those magical D Note weekends.

Next Tuesday, Valentine's Day, we have Bob's Big Band at 7pm. Free! Come early for a seat. This should be a very romantic evening and a great way to impress a date.

Okay you lovely people, see you here

D part

Extra Credit: A poem by Ross Gay...


Overheard

It's a beautiful day
the small man said from behind me
and I could tell he had a slight limp
from the rasp of his boot against the sidewalk
and I was slow to look at him
because I've learned to close my ears
against the voices of passersby, which is easier than closing
them to my own mind,
and although he said it I did not hear it
until he said it a second or third time
but he did, he said It's a beautiful day and something
in the way he pointed to the sun unfolding
between two oaks overhanging a basketball court
on 10th Street made me, too
catch hold of that light, opening my hands
to the dream of the soon blooming
and never did he say forget the crick in your neck
nor your bloody dreams; he did not say forget
the multiple shades of your mother's heartbreak,
nor the father in your city
kneeling over his bloody child,
nor the five species of bird this second become memory,
no, he said only, It's a beautiful day,
this tiny man
limping past me
with upturned palms
shaking his head
in disbelief.

Best fiends,

The snow is piling high, but that won't stop us. We'll be at the D Note tonight drinking a hot toddy and listening to some great music. At 6pm we have Ironwood Rain (think CSN&Y) followed by the twisty rock of Hazardous Matthew. $5.

Tomorrow we have our semi-annual Mid-winter Bluegrass Festival at 7pm w/ Hayward Stranger, The Blue Canyon Boys and The Statue of Liberty Band. And only $5. Check out Matt Dougherty's brilliant poster for this show here, a snow covered banjo!

Next Friday we have the D Note 9 year anniversary party with The Reals (most of them), Wonderlic, Stonebraker and DeGraff Brothers. And next Saturday we have Irie Still and Pink Hawks. Pink Hawks is a band that plays the music of Fela Kuti and they are awesome.

Hope to see you tonight and every night!

D light

Extra Credit: A fraction of a poem from our friend Peter Gizzi's new book "Threshold Songs", talking about the other side. An analemma is a figure-eight pattern formed by plotting the position of the sun every day at the same time for a year. We get our symbol for infinity from it.


Analemma

I know why I came here
to be back here
where my parents went
I know I'll be there
to join them soon
it's okay to think like this
whose gonna say I shouldn't
a doctor, some friend
I have no wife in this
at night, late, the dark
myself at the ceiling
the arguments continue
I'm with it, it's with me
I am quelque chose
something with birds in it
a storm high above Albany
I am ghost brain I
sister to all things cruelty

D Note love letter 1/26/12

D bosh

We usually focus in on weekend events in this newsletter, but it is good to remind you of some of the other terrific things we have going on. Sunday days we have Mello Cello Brunch at 11am (live Cello playing by Monica Sales and breakfast pizza), followed by Baby Boogie, a great time to relax with a beer and pizza while the kids hang out and play, 2-6pm. Sunday nights we have our award winning salsa night, with lesson at 8pm (great for beginners and advanced alike) followed by one of four rotating salsa orchestras at 9pm. $8. Monday nights we have our open stage hosted by Jay Ryan. Jay's introductions are very funny and it is always a pleasant surprise to hear what kind of talent comes out of the woodwork. Wednesdays we have a swing lesson by the charming and talented Lark Mervine at 7pm (only $5) followed by the legendary Clamdaddys. (best free night of Blues anywhere.) Then on Thursday at 6:30pm we have Geeks Who Drink trivia at 6:30pm. We defy you not to laugh out loud at least once during Trivia. To keep you in shape we also have Zumba Wednesday and Saturday mornings at 10:30am and Yoga w/ live music (donation based) Sunday mornings at 10am. We hope you will make it out to one of these excellent events soon.

As for this weekend, we have Marlo Mortenson followed by The Legendary Hitchhikers, a Tom Petty cover band Friday night starting at 7pm. $10. Saturday night we have our annual Winter Gala Hafla presented by Phoenix, which will feature Malia Delapenia from Hawaii, several belly dance performances and the music of Yallah! $8/$5 kids under 12. Then closing out the evening we have The Volunteer Funk Department. $5.

Next Tuesday we have Sentimental Sounds Big Band at 7pm. Free. Next Saturday we have a mini bluegrass festival with Blue Canyon Boys, Hayward Stranger and Statue Of Liberty Band.

Yeehaw!

D per

Extra Credit: The oceans require a hero. A poem to make one think, by Albert Goldbarth.

Everyday People

The oceans are dying. They require a hero,
or a generation of heroes. The oceans are curdling
in on themselves, and on their constituent lives,
they're rising here, and lowering there,
I swear I've heard them gasping. And my friends ... ?
Are brooding over who their kids are playing with
on the streets. Are coming home after a day where some
midlevel management weasel sucked
their souls out like a yolk from an egg—right through
a tiny puncture-hole in the dome of the skull. The cat
has worms. The price of gas is nearly what
their grandparents' wedding rings cost. The oceans

sorely need a paladin, but my friends are exhausted
disputing how many angels can trample the truth
from a twelve-dollar overcharge on a cell-phone bill.
Our privacy is disappearing, cameras sip it up
like thirsty beasts surrounding a shrinking pool of water, my friends
are worried, oh yes certainly they're worried, but also the tumor
and the marriage and the alcoholic uncle. The war
that's this war but is any war and all war is requesting
a little attention in the cause-part, maybe only
a little more in the effect-part, but my friends know
how impossible it is to attend to even a single other
person sufficiently, plus the dentist, plus the eye exam,
and can't they spend some time renewing their sense
of making beauty in this wreckage, Edie
her hummingbird feeders, Sean his libretto, Omar
his amazing organic noodles: something like Balenciaga

the haute couture designer whose life I'm reading compulsively
while the ice caps and the red tide and the polar bears,
Balenciaga for whom "the business of making beautiful things
absorbed him totally, and there was no room in his life
for anything else," he did a piece of sewing "every day
of his adult life: from the age of three," in 1913 (age eighteen)
"he was learning the women's-wear trade" as the guns
of the World War cleared their throats and aimed, and through
the world depression, "a fishnet cloak
of knotted white velvet, and swathes of parachute silk
to make pink-and-white flowers," and through
the Spanish Civil War, "regarded making dresses
as a vocation, like the priesthood, and an act of worship,"
through (he bargained with Franco) World War II,
chantilly, chenille, mohair, tulle,
"he took the sample of intractable material
into his sanctum and returned in only moments
with a superbly accomplished buttonhole: it
would have been a half-hour's labor for anyone else,"
a buttonhole while Israel was forged in 1948,
a buttonhole for Sputnik, yes a buttonhole,
a perfect—consummate—buttonhole, is this
a condemnation of my friends (and so myself)

or an exoneration? I truly don't know.

--

D Note love letter 1/19/12

Dear Antlers,

Cold yesterday, then crazy winds last night and now a sunny warm day. Gotta love the Colorado weather drama.

This Friday night we have Dustin Morris at 5pm (free), followed by Joelle Joyce, followed by the bluesy rock of Blind Child followed by local rock heroes Quillion. $5. Give it up for getting down.

Saturday at 4pm we have an awesome show for the kids as Music Train Family Concerts presents: Kutandara (African Marimba Ensemble) $7 adults/$3 kids.

At 7pm we have the Rocky Mountain Opera Bowl: The Italian Stallions vs. The Dirty Fachers. The first of its kind, this classical smackdown pits baritone Tony Domenick against mezzo-soprano Cassidy Smith in a vocal sporting event-style competition. Special guest judges and audience participants will decide who takes home the crown, so pick your team and cast your vote. We love doing fun and different stuff like this and hope you will come out to support it so we can keep doing it! $5

At 9pm we have Bourbon Toothpaste. If their band name and funky posters are indicative of their live shows, we're in for a treat. An experience that ranges from Hard Rock and Metal to Jazz, Funk and Bluegrass. Check out their website at bourbontoothpaste.com for a, ahem, taste. $5

At 10:30pm we have Number Station, epic early 90's shoegazer rock style. $5.

We were dancing at the packed to capacity salsa night last Sunday and were just amazed that this dance phenomena has been going strong at D Note for over 8 years. You just have to experience it to really understand why it is so great. The bands are high energy and the dancers are spectular. Come take a lesson and see.

Next Friday night, we have a Tom Petty cover band, for you Petty fans.

Okay, we're in,

D answer

Extra Credit: A silly salsa sonnet

Salsa @ D Note


Standing behind the bar
Staring in awe at the dancers
Killing it on the dance floor
When a drop of water

Hits my ear. I turn to Diandra
And ask why she wanted to
Throw water on my ear for?
She says it wasn't her.

I ask who else it could be?
She answers the sweat
Of the dancers. The heat
Causes sweat to condense
On the ceiling and so the sweat
of all the dancers in the room
had fallen into my ear. Sweet!
I say, that's the perfect metaphor.

Yuck! she says. Salty, I say
And leave to join the dance floor.

D Note love letter plus poem 1/5/12

D finest,

Here we go 2012. We're sure a few of you remember when 2001 seemed like the distant future? A la 2001 Space Odyssey? Well, here we are a decade later with these little phones that connect us to the information of the world, like a super power. Pretty cool being in the future. Of course for you young'uns out there it probably just seems like the present.

Tonight, Jan 5, we have Geeks Who Drink Trivia (Fun! Funny! Funnyny!) at 6:30 followed by Martin Gilmore's picking circle (bring your axe!).

Tomorrow night we have great jazz/funk from Charlie Milo Trio at 5pm (free), followed by acoustic pop of Treehouse Sanctum at 7pm, followed by power pop of SoundRabbit at 9pm followed by bass driven prog rock of Stealth Hippo at 10pm. Stealth Hippo features Matt Dougherty, the genius behind the D Note posters. $5.

Saturday at 4pm we have Steel Drum band from Boulder called Steel Alive. A great family concert. The Kids will love it. $5-$10 suggested donation.

Saturday at 7pm we Dwight Carrier and The Blues Krewe, a Zydeco Legend from Louisiana back by popular demand. $10. Then at 9:30pm we have two great indie bands, The Belle Jar and Reviving Cecilia. $5

Next Tuesday we have a big band concert with Serenade In Blue. A swing dance lesson starts at 6pm and band at 7pm. $10 for both.

Then Wednesday we have Lark Mervine teaching Swing Dance at 7pm. First lesson free. Lark has amazing energy and is a great teacher, so come help kick start her Wednesday night dance lessons.

Okay, that's the gnus,

D man

Extra Credit: Here's a lesser known, but appropriate, poem by Robert Frost.

In A Glass of Cider
t seemed I was a mite of sediment
That waited for the bottom to ferment
So I could catch a bubble in ascent.
I rode up on one till the bubble burst,
And when that left me to sink back reversed
I was no worse off than I was at first.
I'd catch another bubble if I waited.
The thing was to get now and then elated.
--

D Note love letter plus poem 12/29/11

D livery,

We are starting 2011 in the right way this weekend. First we have The Teaching on Friday night. The Teaching, a very dynamic and rocking jazz quartet from Seattle, have been playing the D Note annually for 5 years now and it is always a treat. Serafin Sanchez (from Bop Skizzum) will be joining them. Come early to secure a seat and be prepared to be musically entertained. $10. The horn driven Lindsey O'brien Band will be playing afterward at 10pm. $5.

For New Year's Eve we have dreamed up a perfect set of music for you. First we have the legendary trumpet player Ron Miles playing with his trio at 7pm. If you've never heard him before you are in for a treat. Super good vibrations emanating from that man. Then we have the African tinged reggae of Selassee at 8:30pm and finally the awesome Mono Verde (latin/world reggae) take over the stage at 11pm and lead us into 2012...DANCING. (What better way to start the year?). And the price is right too...$10. So excited.

We are having a special New Years day Salsa Fiesta on Sunday night with several dance performances and the high energy of La Candela. Lessons at 8pm, band at 9pm, performances scattered throughout. $8.

We will start up swing dance lessons again on Wednesdays at 7pm with a new outstanding and fun teacher, Lark Mervine. $5. Followed by the swinging band The Clamdaddys. Free. Yes!

Looking forward to spending the next year with YOU!

Ever

D D D dum

Extra credit: How about a long imaginative poem upon snow and fire by John Greenleaf Whittier?

Snowbound: A Winter Idyll

"As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the Divine Light of the Sun, but also by our common Wood fire: and as the celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth the same."--
COR. AGRIPPA, Occult Philosophy, Book I. chap. v.

"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm."
EMERSON.

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

Unwarmed by any sunset light
The gray day darkened into night,
A night made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag, wavering to and fro,
Crossed and recrossed the wingàd snow:
And ere the early bedtime came
The white drift piled the window-frame,
And through the glass the clothes-line posts
Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature's geometric signs,
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below, --
A universe of sky and snow!
The old familiar sights of ours
Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers
Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,
Or garden-wall, or belt of wood;
A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,
A fenceless drift what once was road;
The bridle-post an old man sat
With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
And even the long sweep, high aloof,
In its slant spendor, seemed to tell
Of Pisa's leaning miracle.

A prompt, decisive man, no breath
Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!"
Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy
Count such a summons less than joy?)
Our buskins on our feet we drew;
With mittened hands, and caps drawn low,
To guard our necks and ears from snow,
We cut the solid whiteness through.
And, where the drift was deepest, made A tunnel walled and overlaid
With dazzling crystal: we had read
Of rare Aladdin's wondrous cave,
And to our own his name we gave,
With many a wish the luck were ours
To test his lamp's supernal powers.

All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
No church-bell lent its Christian tone
To the savage air, no social smoke
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak.
A solitude made more intense
By dreary-voicëd elements,
The shrieking of the mindless wind,
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,
And on the glass the unmeaning beat
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.
Beyond the circle of our hearth
No welcome sound of toil or mirth
Unbound the spell, and testified
Of human life and thought outside.
We minded that the sharpest ear
The buried brooklet could not hear,
The music of whose liquid lip
Had been to us companionship,
And, in our lonely life, had grown
To have an almost human tone.

As night drew on, and, from the crest
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west,
The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank
From sight beneath the smothering bank,
We piled, with care, our nightly stack
Of wood against the chimney-back, --
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick,
And on its top the stout back-stick;
The knotty forestick laid apart,
And filled between with curious art

The ragged brush; then, hovering near,
We watched the first red blaze appear,
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,
Until the old, rude-furnished room
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom;
While radiant with a mimic flame
Outside the sparkling drift became,
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree
Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.
The crane and pendent trammels showed,
The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed;
While childish fancy, prompt to tell
The meaning of the miracle,
Whispered the old rhyme: "Under the tree,
When fire outdoors burns merrily,
There the witches are making tea."

The moon above the eastern wood
Shone at its full; the hill-range stood
Transfigured in the silver flood,
Its blown snows flashing cold and keen,
Dead white, save where some sharp ravine
Took shadow, or the sombre green
Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black
Against the whiteness at their back.
For such a world and such a night
Most fitting that unwarming light,
Which only seemed where'er it fell
To make the coldness visible.

Shut in from all the world without,
We sat the clean-winged hearth about,
Content to let the north-wind roar
In baffled rage at pane and door,
While the red logs before us beat
The frost-line back with tropic heat;
And ever, when a louder blast
Shook beam and rafter as it passed,
The merrier up its roaring draught
The great throat of the chimney laughed;
The house-dog on his paws outspread
Laid to the fire his drowsy head,
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall
A couchant tiger's seemed to fall;
And, for the winter fireside meet,
Between the andirons' straddling feet,
The mug of cider simmered slow,
The apples sputtered in a row,
And, close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.

What matter how the night behaved?
What matter how the north-wind raved?
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow
Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow.

At last the great logs, crumbling low,
Sent out a dull and duller glow,
The bull's-eye watch that hung in view,
Ticking its weary circuit through,
Pointed with mutely warning sign
Its black hand to the hour of nine.
That sign the pleasant circle broke:
My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke,
Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray,
And laid it tenderly away;
Then roused himself to safely cover
The dull red brands with ashes over.
And while, with care, our mother laid
The work aside, her steps she stayed
One moment, seeking to express
Her grateful sense of happiness
For food and shelter, warmth and health,
And love's contentment more than wealth,
With simple wishes (not the weak,
Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek,
But such as warm the generous heart,
O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part)
That none might lack, that bitter night,
For bread and clothing, warmth and light.

1865

--



www.dnote.us

weekend update 12/22/11 plus poem

D ears,

We've always thought that the letter D looks like an ear. Though it could also be other body parts we suppose. A round belly perhaps? Santa's belly? We're now imagining the D shaking when it laughs like a bowl full of jelly.

This Friday night we have Ryan Ambrose playing at 5pm (free), then Big Universe playing at 7:30pm. Big Universe is a fun cover band. This will be a benefit for Jeffco School Outdoor Labs. $5/$10 for family. At 10pm we have The Bottom Feeders (blues, R&B). $5

Then we are closed for Christmas eve. We'll be back open for salsa on Sunday night starting at 6pm.

We have a couple of great shows next weekend. Friday the 30th we'll The Teaching w/ Serafin Sanchez followed by the Lindsey O'brien band. Then on NYE we have an amazing show w/ Ron Miles Trio (legendary jazz great), Selassee (african reggae) and Mono Verde (latin reggae) and only $10...

Love to you and yours...

Extra Credit: We recommend a wonderful new translation of the 3000 year old Vijnana Bhairava Tantras by Dr. Lorin Roche. Here's a sample.



Sutra 64


Secrets are hidden in darkness

And difficult nights.

You awaken to a pang of aloneness,

A howl of separation.



This is the call of the Dark One,

The roar of life seeking its source.

The union you long for is within reach.



Throw off all hesitation.

Become one with the fear.

Plunge into the uncanny blackness,

Eyes wide open,

As if there were no other choice.



Vibrating with fierce tenderness,

Breathe intimately

With the Lord of infinite space.