Mallory Graham: Mishawaka Amphitheatre
Nestled between the grooves of the rust-colored rocks of Poudre Canyon, the Mishawaka Amphitheater shines brightly in an area otherwise immersed in complete darkness; here, you’re free from the shackles of city lights and cell phone connection. This past Saturday night, the mountain air carried Northern Colorado’s music community to a show that shook the log cabin-like foundation of the historic venue. So much love and adoration circled about in anticipation for Mallory Graham’s Album Release show. Three opening acts played, a mix of fresh faces and crowd favorites, all rallying behind the one and only Mallory who stole the show and closed out the night.
Kaelyn Mahoney opens the night, creating a light hearted atmosphere that replicates the ease of taking a full breath. Her velvety smooth vocals are deeply expansive, like submerging into an ocean without the capacity to harm you, only pull you in and calm your senses. Her range flows from melancholic melodies to tunes with jazzy, upbeat piano fills. The essence of Florence and The Machine subtly flits about as she nears the end of her set.
A quick changeup as up-and-coming group Leaf, Please! take center stage. This woman led indie punk band lets loose and unleash unbridled energy. Magnolia Mulqueen paves the way for a wildly topsy-turvy, off kilter ride with songs that knock air out of your lungs. Destin Charles provides punchy bass lines, like a finger jabbed in your direction while an Arctic Monkeys style ambiance ensues. Tropical drum beats pair with garage band fuzz leaking out of amplifiers, taking the audience and jostling them around; a growing flame only getting hotter as the night persists.
Following Leaf, Please! a gentle presence, local favorite, Blake Rouse starts a set. Blake pulls you through a rainbow jukebox time machine with a style allusive to the 70s. Sporting gold metal framed glasses, choppy tousled hair, and a jean jacket, his wavy vocals infiltrate the warm cabin air. A feeling like the little waves you make with your hand out the car window on a desert road trip. His rattly acoustic sound and clanging guitar strings provide the spirit of traditional folk with a unique twist. His sound is ragged and rustic, almost brittle in the most lovely stylistic kind of way; a bare bones, jangling skeleton dancing in the wind. As he’s playing, a stray guitar string whips about amidst passionate punching of his strings. You can’t help but catch the slight nod to Bob Dylan with his witty, charismatic nature and crowd banter. His onlookers' unwavering gazes are filled with admiration, the capability to capture hearts is palpable.
As the opening acts thoroughly escalate the energy of the night, Mallory Graham is soon to grace the stage. Concertgoers cozy up close and the low hum and buzzing of conversation is fractured by a roar of applause; Graham strides out from the back of the room in a paper mache duck head, a testimony to the adorably playful undertone her album takes on. With glamorous emerald green lipstick and matching corduroy shorts, she slings a glittery silver guitar over her shoulder—and just like that, the surf washes over you, pulling you toward the tides.
Each member of Graham’s band wears niche, brightly patterned tropical style button ups that enhance the surfy vibe that spills out into the crowd. The event kicks into full throttle, reverb twisting and turning through the air before colliding with your eardrums . Felix “Goose” Seifert renders chunky bass riffs that entwine with the band’s hazy sound.
Graham’s shimmery guitar glints off the disco ball slowly spinning overhead. Little reflective circles fill your vision and transform into bright sunbeams cascading and bursting over a beach vacation cast on 35mm film in your mind. You’re thoughtfully pulled back into reality as Graham makes a vital public service announcement about what to feed ducks in the park, greatly deviating from the old school ideology of bread slices. The sweet message garners a chuckle from everyone and the dial gets turned further as drummer Caleb Lunning juts forward with a speedy tempo and the metallic thrashing of cymbals; a frenzied hoppin’ and boppin’ in its wake.
The music sweeps you back into a carefree mentality, all worries and obligations checked at the door. Graham continues on with a murky, suave voice that feels like cruising on the horizon, sunset behind you. She possesses an effortlessly cool, undeniable slacker charm. Bobbing heads emerge in the pit, syncing up with the noise streaming out of Kai Tanaka’s guitar. A blend of indie surf with punk influences, all encased in garage band quality sound lingers in the air one last time; a scene one couldn’t grow tired of. A sea of smiles radiate off everyone’s face despite the evening coming to its end.
Driving through the ponderosa pines on your way back down the canyon, perhaps with a rubber duck as a souvenir, blissful contentment envelops you—grateful for a night spent with incredible people.
All images taken by Zachary Bair.
Instagram: @zachbairphotography
