TopShelf
The bottom of the barrel by Chris Aaland
1,050-word weekly assignment about music and beer. I regularly dabbled in e’ve reached the bottom of the other topics, like politics, sports, fishing barrel. A little more than two and hunting, cooking, movies and televiyears ago, after BREW Pub & sion, and life and death. I eulogized my Kitchen shuttered its doors, a few of us baby son, Gus, in 2011; a few years later, I helped owners Erik and Lainie Maxson wrote about Mom’s passing; and, in 2017, I clean out their restaurant. Uncle Steve and memorialized my little brother, Billy. My I showed up with every growler we could Front of the Line Gang festival buddies get our hands on to fill with as much of Dancing Pat and Scott Spencer were reErik’s last beers as possible. For me, membered fondly in these pages that meant plenty of Woody, a after their untimely deaths. Missy aldoppelbock brewed for a longtime ways let me bare my soul, for better customer who had died while or worse. snowshoeing the previous winter. There are many people I need to Like all good malty beers, thank. First, there are hundreds of Woody had notes of caramel and musicians that I’ve gotten to know toffee … sweet and salty, just like through the years, some Grammythe man it was named after. The winning, others happy to sing to a last time I sipped on a Woody was few folks on a patio on a rainy sumduring March Madness this past mer night. The presenters who put spring at Erik and Lainie’s house. on festivals – like Brian Eyster of After two years of being trapped in Planet Bluegrass, Steve Gumble of a can, Woody’s character changed. Telluride Blues & Brews and the When I popped the top, the first countless board members of the Dufew sips brought back happy rango Bluegrass Meltdown – are formemories. But by the time I was ever in my debt. halfway done with the 16-oz. can, My colleagues at my day jobs it dawned on me that this wasn’t had to put up with my folly – inthe same beer I’d loved two years cluding folks at Fort Lewis College ago. Woody’s time had come and and, later, KSUT Public Radio. Some gone. liked The Shelf. Some hated it. The And so has the time for “Top damn thing nearly got me fired on Shelf.” I’ve been writing the Telemore than one occasion. graph’s music and nightlife colMy buddy Bryant Liggett was my umn ever since the departure of counterpoint at The Durango Herald and KDUR. It was always my aspiraLindsay Nelson in December 2007. tional goal to be as good as Liggy. I She followed in the footsteps of never was. Mike Sheehan and Ted Holteen. My family served as my weekly Call it writer’s block. Blame the sounding board. Poor Shelly, Otto pandemic and the lockdown, if Chris Aaland in his natural habitat during the Telluride and Billy were subjected to hunyou must. I just don’t have the Bluegrass Festival in 2018. dreds of over-dramatized recitations passion for it anymore. This – often with certain paragraphs respring, a friend told me my colread dozens of times as I made spontaumn about the inaugural Tico Time festiing about all the annual festival highlights neous edits. Sometimes these were done val sucked. She said my writing didn’t in the region – Telluride’s big four music late at night or early in the morning in have the edge and humor that it once had. events (Bluegrass, The Ride, Jazz, Blues & cheap motels, hospitals and even in the At first, I was hurt. Then I was pissed off. Brews), both festers on Reservoir Hill, car. Finally, I realized she was right. RockyGrass at Planet Bluegrass, the DuI thank the loyal Durango Telegraph I remember the late autumn day that rango Bluegrass Meltdown and more. readers for letting me share my ramblings Will Sands, one of the Telegraph’s founders, Often writing about five or six local events … my descriptions of the man cave, my asked me to meet him downtown – that he each week, I can safely estimate I helped Wild Game Super Bowl spreads, my had a question for me. “How’d you like to spread the word on over 3,000 live music drunken sprees, my hangovers and my write the music column?” he asked. I happenings in our neck of the woods … at goosebump moments at festivals. could hardly contain myself. least before COVID-19 reared its ugly Mostly, I thank Missy and Lainie and I spent the next few days pondering a head. the rest of my Tele family. They put up name. “Bottom of the Barrel” was my first I had the chance to interview artists with my tardiness, forgetfulness and choice, referring to the sad last glass of like Lucinda Williams, Patterson Hood of crankiness and became my sisters. When beer that foams and sputters out of a Drive-By Truckers, Chan Kinchla of Blues Missy was named one of the Extraordinary tapped keg. It was also a self-deprecating Traveler, Ray Benson of Asleep at the Women of the Year at the Women’s Rejab at my own taste in music and popular Wheel and dozens more. But my favorite source Center’s 30th anniversary event, culture. Missy Votel immediately shot that folks to query were local musicians like she thanked me for being one of the Teleone down. I quickly countered with “Top Erik Nordstrom, Gary Cook, Fred Kozak, Shelf,” a reference to both drinking and Caitlin Cannon, Cody Tinnin and Brendan graph girls. I’ve never received higher our mutual favorite sport of hockey. She Shafer; and beer guys like Dave Thibodeau, praise. We’ve reached the bottom of the loved the name. Brian McEachron and Scott Bickert. These barrel. Through the years, The Shelf shined a are the folks who entertain us, feed us and spotlight on the local and regional music help us get our buzz on night in and night And he walked on down the hall. Email scene, from small bars to 10,000-person out. me at chris@ksut.org. ■ festivals. Occasionally, I’d expand my The Shelf was always more than just a
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boundaries beyond the San Juans and tell Hunter-esque tales of my travels. Drag karaoke at an Albuquerque motel after a Metallica concert; slipping and sliding in an oil slick in a Denver parking lot after a Dead show; drunkenly stumbling around Yankton, S.D., in search of fried walleye at 2 a.m.; finding Midwestern entertainment in all-you-can-eat 4H sheep fry feasts. For 14 years, I had the pleasure of wax-
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