Most tribute bands fall short of capturing the true essence of their musical pioneer predecessors. Rocky Mountain Grateful Dead Revue, a cosmic conglomerate of members of Shakedown Street and Dark Star Orchestra's Rob Eaton, reform the very art of imitation.

They weave an intricate, improvisational aural tapestry that diehard Dead fans wholeheartedly wrap themselves in. Like caretakers on an inherited plot of farmland, RMGDR nurture the brawny roots laid down by Jerry and the boys while managing to sprinkle some vibrant musical seeds of their own into every live gig. Splashing just the right amount of originality against a backdrop of tie-dye-infused Grateful Dead jams, they invoke memories of glory tour days for older Deadheads and foster new live-show fixes for up and coming music fiends.

This January gig, at Boulder Theater, had no shortage of synchronic moments between the crowd and these bestowers of burly sound. The Coloradoan quintet, devoted to keeping the Dead's legacy blooming, came heavy with the heady tunes and dreamy instrumentals that drift you into conscious soul slumber.

The set kicked off with 'Bertha.' From the first few intro chords and the opening line of "I had a hard month" cheers ignited and spread with the vengeance of a forest fire. Dave Kochman's vocals were in the same vein of Jerry, but still possessed a slightly different tone, blending novelty with nostalgia. Fans took advantage of the ample dancing room and fluidly moved, while the mural of a sun sheltered the pit as if to give her blessing on a tribe of smiling souls.

Otis Redding's shoulder swaying 'Hard to Handle' kept the dance floor a dizzying, Picasso-esque mix. The guys delivered this tune with an instrumental session packed right in the velvety center. Smokey Joe Weisiger worked the keyboard, his fingers holding down notes with fervor.

When the guys plunged into 'New Speedway Boogie' it was clear that this audience had all spent a little time on the mountain. Shouting out the chorus with arms outstretched, attendees let their love for the Rockies catapult to the rafters.

By this point, beer bottles and cocktail glasses lined the stage as if to frame the band in a semicircle of trust. The frothy adult bevs were like offerings of adulation to musical demigods. Fans tenaciously tapped on the stage's edge, providing yet another tribal hint amidst a night of raw self-expression.

The guys kept the momentum brewing by jumping into Buddy Holly's charismatically catchy 'Not Fade Away.'  Next came, the vagrant's anthem 'Goin' Down the Road and Feelin' Bad.' The chemistry converged with the rich folky blues-laden 'I Know You Rider."

A goosebump-inducing "Jack Straw" transitioned into 'Brown-eyed Women,' with the effortless grace of a spider spinning silky strands.

After an enthralling rendition of 'Ramble On Rose,' the band members not manning the drum kit exited, giving way to Jake Wolf's manic drum solo. When the audience had reached the peak of this percussion potency, the three gentlemen migrated back and jammed out 'St. Stephen.' Toasty amber lights cocooned the band members' silhouettes, increasing the spiritual undertones of the performance.

'Morning Dew' was tranquilly refreshing and gave Rob Eaton countless opportunities to offer up guitar playing that trickled down spines and didn't let up till toes had been curled.

'Playing in the Band' was coated in irony considering the assortment of musicians, on stage, all work to keep the vibe of another influential band buzzing.  Jim Allard's resemblance to Phil Lesh in both stature and bass skills reaffirmed that artistic recreation is indeed a genuine form of flattery.

This tune, segwayed into 'Box of Rain'—the "I'm here for you mantra" was played with sincerity, thickening the brotherly love buzz already fogging the venue.

Rocky Mountain Grateful Dead Revue closed the night with Chuck Berry's up-tempo, Johnny B. Goode, causing attendees to summon up all the energy they had left on the final stop in this musical journey. The twist-inducing song, about a backwoods musical prodigy, left us floating in a humming sea of palpable joy.

Twirling girls, with halo-like wreaths of flowers in their hair, appeared like graceful ghosts making 2009 morph into 1969. The very presence of these bohemian concertgoers, much like the musical buffet served up that night, reaffirmed that the Dead's music, overall style and message is free from any expiration date.

The Dead never perish. They simply reincarnate into other exquisite forms that make us stop, take notice and revel in the mind-altering grooves.

On this stellar evening Rocky Mountain Grateful Dead Revue's talent and uncanny ability to resurrect the spirit of these San Fran Godfathers of jam shined iridescently, like a headlight on a northbound train in the cool Colorado rain.

They started in a Jamaican town originally established to house refugees of an earthquake. Today they are the most influential reggae act of the 21st century, responsible for shaking up the scene with their conscious-raising sound.

The Wailers held a rocksteady rager at the Fox Theater on Saturday, where the island spirit was fully felt despite the chilly temperatures outside. Now fronted by Jewish American-born vocalist extraordinaire, Elan Atias, they have a different looking ringleader but still know how to throw one irie circus.

Before the Wailers set the place ablaze, L.A's Tomorrow's Bad Seeds served up a raw mix of reggae, punk, hip-hop and soul. On this, the eighth day of tour with the Wailers, TBS were still high off their musical pilgrimage.

"Heartless" provided thought-provoking lyrics—"If curiosity killed the cat/What happened to the dog?" against a backdrop of head-nodding instrumentals.

With a vocal styling similar to that of Sublime's late Bradley Nowell, Moi captivated the crowd. Striking, but completely unforced, TBS's stage presence and music skills demanded attention.

Moi channeled Bill Withers with a rendition of "Ain't no Sunshine," impressing the audience with his tone and undeniable amount of soul.

Next he dove into Erykah Badu's 'On & On.' But, who would expect anything less from a band who stressed the importance of respecting females early in their set. Moi urged the girls to "not give it up so easy."  "We all came from a woman so it's time we pay respect to women."

'Warrior Poet' had those Cali surfer-punk riffs that stick in your head like wet sand. It catapulted into a crashing momentous wave, that audience members were more than willing to ride out. The heavy bass and guitar were the musical equivalent of a rip-current pulling you down deeper and deeper into a sea of creative consciousness.

Tomorrow's Bad Seeds closed the set with a chilling acapella rant that touched on war and political imagery.

The Wailers made their way on stage and slowly worked the crowd into a frenzy by trickling out the dub with passionate precision. What sounded like a recording of Bob Marley, resonated from backstage. A series of Rastafarian lingo including "I Selassie" reverberated off of the speakers.

In a matter of minutes frontman Elan appeared on stage, sporting a hoodie with the word "Kingston" on the back, looking ready to slip into the shoes of a legend. Floating right on into 'Natural Mystic,' the Wailers set the tone for a very magical night.

After the opening song, Elan invited a girl member of their crew up because she was celebrating her fourth birthday. He led the crowd in 'Happy Birthday' and then segwayed into 'So Much Things to Say.'

'The Heathen' caused hips to sway.

'We're Jammin,' the classic roots song, gave Elan numerous opportunities to belt out "…in the name of the lord…" with eyes closed tightly as if in intense prayer.

Following in the footsteps of TBS, who earlier covered a track from an innovative female, the Wailers jumped into a cover of Tina Turner's 'What's Love Got to Do With It.'

"Turn Your Lights Down Low' caused swaying.

While 'Three Little Birds,' the chipper song of positive reassurance, was complemented by the nectar-sweet vocals of two songstresses on stage who danced barefoot to the beat.

'One Love' sounded as poignant as ever.

After a short break, the Wailers were summoned back by cheers and stomps. Taking on the role of United Nations ambassador, Elan took the stage once again but this time to deliver a serious message not in song. He briefed the audience about a charity called "I Went Hungry" and informed us that "Every six seconds a child dies of hunger."

He then looked into the crowd and said "We the fortunate have to look out for the unfortunate" which was met with a full round of whistles and aggressive handclaps.

After the service announcement, the Wailers were ready to nourish eager fans that were not yet satiated.

'Redemption Song,' the softly strummed tune spawned a sing-along.

'Them Belly Full (But We Hungry)' fanned the flames of the already fiery crowd energy.

"Are you tired? Do you want to go?" Elan asked, to which attendees shouted back a heated "No!"

During 'No Woman No Cry' the venue was darkened, kept alit by the illumination of swaying lighters and cell phone screens.

After this serene moment, Elan performed 'Nothing Is Worth Losing You,' a track off his solo album. Girls in the front row looked puppy-eyed as he let his sensitive side seep out through song.

This luminous love ballad morphed into the anthemic 'Get Up Stand Up.' TBS's Moi even took over the lyrics—proving that these gentlemen really do hold true to the idea of one love.

The themes of human rights and social justice continued to surge with the closing song, 'War,' whose distinct opening drumbeat and prolific message gripped firmly.

While the only original remaining member of the Wailers is bassist Aston "Familyman" Barrett, the authentic spirit still flows as naturally as a banana boat on a cool Jamaican canal.

On this night, the vibes were contagious and reaffirmed that the lion's ravenous roar can never be stifled. No matter how many rotating band members, the Wailers will always be the king of the jam jungle.

He's been known to show a mandolin and viola who is boss, while still keeping his humble frontman persona intact. A modest yet instrumentally explosive enigma, Drew Emmitt captures the attention of the audience as if they were a herd of famished field mice lured in by a hefty corncake crumb.

Before the Colorado man took the stage, a scattered amount of attendees were treated to the southern-fried stylings of Unknown Americans. Looking out at the scarce amount of folks on the floor, full-bearded frontman Danny Shafer belted out, "Nothing but friends and family, Huh?"—his voice reminiscent of fireflies and muddy wheels on a pickup.

The dancing space paired with the Americana rootsy essence of sound made this venue, in the heart of Boulder, feel more like a rented church hall south of the Mason Dixon.

"Except For You and Me," had that saloon style vibe that makes ya want to kick back a shot of Jack Daniels and play horseshoes. From the opening line of "Got a gas station and a liquor store/Bar room with a hard wood floor" the honky-tonk torch had been lit and seemed in no hurry to extinguish.

After this song about loves separated by states, Shafer looked at the crowd and shouted like a cattle driver, "Long hair scruffy as shit country music!" His enthused outburst was met with hootenanny-tinged cheers.

Couples two-stepped to 'American in Me,' a song whose beat and lyrics about "dirty roads in Texas…" would have made Woody Guthrie grin.

Unknown Americans jumped into Willie Nelson's 'Bloody Mary Morning,' causing the energy in the room to shoot up higher than the temp on an old school BBQ pit. The country-thumping keyboard work furthered the already intoxicating old-time feel.

Drew Emmitt and his merchant posse of skilled musicians took the stage and kicked the set off with the Bob Dylan classic "Meet Me in the Morning." Armed with a mandolin, Emmitt went to town plucking the strings with the meticulousness of a blues Buddha. The thigh-smacking number was kept alive by the deep heartfelt pang of the upright bass.

After the initial jam, Emmitt gazed out into the crowd and with an essence of victory coating his voice said, "Happy New Year. Happy New World." Fresh off the exciting heels of a history-making presidential inauguration, his words resonated a hopeful resurgence.

"A Long Road," the speedy energy-brewing number, gave Emmitt a chance to showcase his harmonious vocal ability—emanating both vulnerability and strength with every note.

'Troubled Times' sounded like it could have been heard coming out of some forest in the Appalachians. The song about wind blowing away burdens offered up poetic imagery, rejuvenating the souls of fans.

Bill Nershi, of the String Cheese Incident and Honkytonk Homeslice fame, appeared like a wise musically-inclined father time. Playing the dobro with mellow ease— his fingers like locusts gliding over dewy leaves.

A sensual bass-ridden session erupted, while the lighting in the venue provided that certain sexy mood. The funkiness dispersed by Emmitt and company reinforced the idea that the confines of artistic freedom are non-existent. Not only could these men rotate their instruments, but they could also successfully genre-jump.

A hard-as-gravel rockin' cover of Marshall Tucker Band's 'Take the Highway' was thrown into the set like a heavy piece of campfire wood.

'It's You that Makes This House a Home' offered up syrupy sweet instrumentals and lyrics.

This saccharine number was followed by the up-tempo bluegrass staple 'Rolling in My Sweet Baby's Arms' which sprouted a sing-along. Brazen banjo playing complimented the boys' twangy vocals.

The islandy 'Walking to the Beat of the World' altered the overall mood into something a bit more tropical.

The always satisfying hoe-down version of Dylan's 'Tangled Up in Blue' was an automatic crowd-pleaser. From the opening lyrics of 'Early one mornin' the sun was shinin', I was layin' in bed/Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all/If her hair was still red' a sense of nostalgia washed over the crowd like a salt-infused ocean wave.

During 'Pretty Polly,' a classic ditty about a mountain mama who gets wrapped up in a heap of trouble with a dangerous chap, it became clear that these gentlemen thrive on sharing the stage together.

Emmitt's brother, Dave, even made a guest appearance playing harmonica with the kind of aggressive, soulful blues of yesteryear.

'Highway Song,' a track expressing the isolation and loneliness felt while on the road, had a lullaby-like beginning that quickly tumble-weeded into a faster pace. With lyrics like 'So many miles away from the one I need the most/Beyond any words I can say/So far and so close…" this tune read like a worn page out of a tour journal.

The boys splashed into the intro to the 1965 Troggs' hit 'Wild Thing,' for a brief moment before serving up another hearty shot of bluegrass mojo.

Closing with the junction joint 'All Night Ride,' Emmitt and his crew reminded fans of the many more journeys to come fueled by moonshine and starlight.

Fat Tuesday, at the Fox, proved to be an evening of soulful celebration, where the positivity and spirit-moving sounds of Lubriphonic and Panjea shined as effervescently as the Madigra beads draped around fans’ necks.

Groove-laden powerhouse, Lubriphonic, kicked things off with their heavy-horned colossal sound.

The intoxicating pairing of Giles Corey’s whiskey vocals with Cajun spice instrumentals sent attendees into a fiery frenzy of delight. Fans, fully feeling the gripping grooves, took advantage of the floor space by busting out breakdancing moves.

‘Love Bomb’ came full force with booming vocals and the kind of explosive energy that quickens your heart rate and tickles your funky bone.

This shy-town conglomerate of skilled musicians knew just when to speed it up and slow it down for audience members riding their wave of aural bliss.

During ‘Soul Solution’ Corey seemed to be channeling James Brown. The song, a bluesy tempest, came equipped with suggestive lyrics like ‘I’m growing like a melon/Ripe on the vine/Growin and showin and feeling fine…’

‘Chalk Train’ was kept on route by the potent rock guitar, but made hairpin turns into the billowing sound of sax, trumpet and trombone— all satiating stops along the way on this journey to funk junction. Corey delivered the lyrics like a frustrated vagabond with a heavy case of wanderlust, ‘I want to hop that train and head down south/Where they got enough whiskey to fill my mouth…’

The next song, ‘inspired by the Wakarusa festival,’ ‘Another Patch of Ground’ started with Eric Clapton-esque guitar playing and Corey movingly belting out ‘It’s Alright/ It’s Alright baby…’ in a way that would have made B.B. King proud.

With dominating bass lines, an unbelievably tight and passionate wind instrument section and a drummer who slaps the skins with the might of a locomotive, Lubriphonic captures the old spirit of pioneering rhythm and blues, while fervently grasping onto their own musical vision.

Whether they were incorporating the use of a cowbell or dancing to their own beat, Lubriphonic reeled the audience in like a hooked big-mouthed, bayou-born catfish.

Next, Chris Berry and Panjea, medicinal music men, took the stage to replenish our souls with a prescription consisting of harmonious melodies, conscious-raising messages and African aphrodisiacs in song-form.

At the honeycomb core of their sound was the sensually gratifying mbira—a wooden board and metal key Zimbabwean instrument with a sound similar to the Xylophone, but possessing a more angelic tone that instantly seems to settle in your heart and align your chakras.

‘Are you Ready,’ the fast-paced mantra of world unity, erupted into a percussion-palooza where djembes were set ablaze by high-speed hands.

Michael Kang, of String Cheese Incident, helped his band of musical brothers by breaking out the electric mandolin.

‘Dreamer’ had a Caribbean essence paired with lyrics that encouraged fans to keep the faith.

‘Love on a Mountain,’ the smoothly rich song about spreading light to all, raised the already present warm and fuzzy factor up a few notches.

During ‘Break free’ Berry poignantly sang, ‘I gotta change the way I’ve been livin

’’like a man on a spiritual quest who had just reached a pivotal level enlightenment.  But, who would expect anything less from this gwenyambira – a title given to Berry by Zimbabwean elders meaning ‘one whose music calls the spirit.’

‘Hold On,’ a life-preserver of artistic expression, gave attendees a message of everlasting hope and a mellow beat that they could sway to.

‘Axe Forgets’ provided an afro beat with poignant lyrics about destruction— ‘The axe forgets what the fallen tree cannot...’

During ‘Mandela’ the name of the freedom fighter, anti-apartheid activist was transformed into a joyful, hymn-like chant.

They closed the exhilarating set with ‘Everyday,’ an ode to an irresistible lady— a hypnotic, modern day song of female praise.

With their festive fusion of jazz, blues, hip-hop and soul, they make sure to pepper in an invigorating helping of music sprouted deep within the jungles of the Congo. Blending optimistic messages with refreshing originality, Chris Berry and Panjea prove they really do walk a proud line.

They’re a posse of Asheville artists who play with the sort of spunk, meticulousness and joy that should be bottled and sold at some obscure roadside stand by a secret guru. The mystical, tribal and always fascinating Toubab Krewe have the ability to stir those emotions that you thought you may have lost, without singing a single phrase in any language. Their packed gig, at the Fox, proved to be a magic carpet ride of instrumentals, where they soared to new heights with their crescendo-loaded tunes.

Blending West African beats, Caribbean melodies and tinges of Appalachian accompaniments, Toubab Krewe produces a truly unique sound that’s bound to bring on dancing and uncontainable glee.

They opened with ‘51-foot-ladder’ a tune built on stacks of sounds so beautifully complex, it left audience members in a clouded state of musical harmony. From the initial jam, folks began to willing sacrifice themselves to the rhythms, produced by the 12-stringed kamalengoni.

Up next came ‘Bamana Niya,’ a head nodding shoulder-swaying staple of their live shows—a collage of bass, electric guitar and drumming that catapults into a mind-numbing groove.

‘Lamine’s Tune’ started with that underlying country-mountain music hook, perpetuated by the heartbeat of the drum kit’s cymbal being smacked and steadily stopped.

Eventually, the song took a different hill-side turn speeding up with exhilaration. Layers upon layers of exquisite beats, riffs and needling notes culminated into a highly danceable ode.

‘Maliba,’ An upbeat dreamlike tune, made way to stand-out moments by the 21-stringed harp- like kora— an instrument constructed out of a gourd, whose nightingale flow set hearts a flight.

‘Summertime’ had a slight southern rock sound, think Allman Brothers mixed with a hearty helping of tribal afro-funk. It also offered up ear-dizzying, string-scratching moments on the kora.

‘Djarabi’ had a Castilian-vibe, a gypsy-like anthem, which captured the essence of a caravan ride fueled by full-bodied wine.

‘Kaira’ was a mix of urban drum-beats with Mali-esque mojo peppered with the unmistakenable sound of the heavenly kora.

‘Buncombe To Badalabougou’ was reminiscent of the surfer jams of the 1960s, but still possessed a stronger rip-current as it pipelined into different musical territories. The ebb and flow of this salt-life sounding mantra was what Brian Wilson, of the Beach Boys, wished he could have produced.

The momentum kept crazily stirring during ‘Salut,’ ‘Wassoulou’ and ‘Area Code.’

They rounded off the evening with a spine-tingling drum session, ‘Petit Amadies,’ which managed to embody the very essence of what the Krewe is all about: speed, agility and stamina.

Whether they are playing with old-time music mavens the Duhks or collaborating with spoken word poet Umar Bin Hassan, Toubab Krewe proves that their art knows no boundaries. Inspired, innovative and never intimidated of uncharted waters, they will make the sweet sounds of djembe and soku dance in your head long after a gig has ended.

Keepers of the flame. Revivers of the vibe. The ultimate players in the game of cover band glory.—Whatever title you pin on Dark Star Orchestra, doesn’t nearly encapsulate their dedication, precision and drive. Getting everything right, even the simple sounds of instrumental tuning, is something that they take very seriously. Catapulting the essence of imitation and authenticity into another stratosphere, Dark Star proves to be a band truly blessed by the cover band cosmos.

DSO hosted a packed party at Boulder Theater, where fluorescent colored beach balls scanned the top of the crowd like orbs of aura-laden energy.

On deck tonight, was the set list from the Dead’s 1976 gig at San Fran’s Orpheum Theatre.

They opened with ‘Cold Rain & Snow,’ which sent the crowd into a bevy of free-form grooves—like dancing shadows among a canvass of mountains.

Up next, came ‘Cassidy.’ From the open lines, which evoke all the folly of an epic fable, ‘I have seen where the wolf has slept by the silver stream/I can tell by the mark he left, you were in his dream’ the otherworldly-mood was set. Attendees surrendered to the subdued lighting and let the melodic tinges cloud up their cerebellum.

‘Mama Tried,’ originally done by country guru Merle Haggard, captured the country-fried appeal of rebel sons living life by their own rules.

‘Row Jimmy’ splashed into Johnny Cash’s toe-tapping ‘Big River.’

‘Brown-Eyed Women’—a culmination of sweet instrumentals and lyrics referencing red grenadine proved to be satiating. The mishmash of poignant keyboard work and stellar guitar playing was like the perfect cocktail in song form—served up with lip-smacking spunk.

The traditional ballad of ‘Peggy-O’ was a nice change of mellow pace.

‘The Music Never Stopped’ allowed songstress Lisa Mackey moments to slip into the hippiedom throne of vocal veteran Donna Jean. Her chestnut hair spun wildly with every graceful turn she took. Arms outstretched, her rapid spinning captured a sense of childlike energy and innocence that seemed to manifest within the heart of every dancing soul. Mackey’s voice, a seductive sassafras of sound, added a much needed potent feminine touch to the burly brotherhood presence filling the stage.

During ‘Scarlet Begonias’ fans sipped their brews and sang along with those classic lyrics ‘rings on her fingers and bells on her toes…’

Set two kicked off with ‘Playing in the Band,’ which segwayed into bluesy-rooted ‘Cosmic Charlie.’

‘Samson and Delilah,’ a tune highlighting the biblical tale, kept the momentum at its peak by starting off with that distinct drum intro. The lyric ‘If I had my way/I would tear this whole building down’ was sung with shamanic enthusiasm and never sounded better against kick-ass keyboard chords.

‘The Wheel,’ an upbeat anthem of self-perseverance, was played with the intensity of white lightning— sparking a new level of satisfaction among fans.

‘High Time’ slowed things down and captured the same lullaby-like tone, similar to when it was performed by Jerry and the boys at Woodstock in ’69.

‘Sugar Magnolia,’ perhaps the happiest ode to an extraordinary lady, sped things right up again with its love-induced lyrics and infectious instrumentals.

‘U.S. Blues’ was served up as an encore— an idyllic end to a long strange, nostalgic night.

DSO resurrected the high-energy party aura synonymous with the Grateful Dead’s live shows.  This shy-town band proves, with each gig, that they stretch beyond the box of imitation.

They keep the unadulterated power of the Dead’s music thriving. This is something to be in awe of, not just because the music has the potency to alter moods and motivate heads to travel hundreds of miles with mere change in their patchwork pockets—but because the sense of community, lot scene and timeless tunes are etched in the pillars of rock for eternity.

It sounds like the soundtrack to life’s meaningful pilgrimages and spiritual awakenings. The tripified, glitchy melodic beats that Shpongle produces also could easily be, what I would imagine, fills the brain of artist Alex Grey on a daily basis. On Friday, the Fox appeared like a pre-Burning Man Ritual— where furry boot refugees from the infamous desert town of Black Rock City came to converge and pay homage to their god.

Even though flute player Raja Ram was absent, Simon Posford rocked the turn tables to all the Psybient hearts content. The night’s festivities were part rave and part Cirque du Soleil, dusted with a heavy dose of psychedelic fodder.

Posford appeared like one of Robin Hood’s merry men of trance, complete with a feather in his cap and a crescent moon smile that made appearances throughout his set.

Before the turn tables could even heat up, two creatures entered from either side of the stage. Their entrance was grand, yet they walked as though in slow motion—An effervescent native chief and his queen ready to enchant, delight and mystify with their strange moves.

‘Dorset Perception’ started with a traditional Cuban-guitar feel. The salsa-like intro catapulted into a choppy cluster of nonstop grooves. Melodic far-east vocals coated the song adding a very human element between the heavy machinery of techno beats.

‘When Shall I Be Free’ sounded like it could be used to induce belly dancing or coax a venomous snake out of a basket. The instrumentals were reminiscent of Indian flutes and sitars. The dreamy recording of a hypnotic female voice brought the trance tune to new heights. Her continuous questioning of her liberty had my mind flooding with images of a maiden held captive.

‘Star-Shpongled Banner’ came upon us slowly, like a thick stream of honey oozing down a lush hillside. A calm voice echoed, ‘I am a shaman, magician/The sun is purple/3-D dimensions/I am for mental extensions...’ heightening the mystique of the already perplexing aural landscape.

A bevy of creatures, perhaps the sacred ones that reside inside pulse-laden chakras, made appearances throughout the gig. Whether it was the presence of a unicorn playful thrusting its horn or a hoop-master commanding a day-glow orb, the theatrics definitely proved effective.

At one point, Posford simply let the computer magic go to work, as he exited his DJ booth and danced around stage to his beats with pure amusement.

Proving that you don’t need a four-piece band to keep crowds on their feet, Shpongle has perfected the art of melting faces and turning cerebellums into squishy Jell-O. But, who would expect anything less from these musical innovators whose logo is a medusa-like floating head with three sets of eyes?

On this summer eve, tranceified house-loving music fiends left completely and utterly shpongled.

On Sunday, the Boulder Theater simmered with genuine blues bravado, the kind that clings to the air with an intoxicating presence. The source of this beautifully hazy down-home sound came in the form of guitarist and vocalist Robert Cray. This velvet-voiced musician has earned the approval and praise of Eric Clapton, Diana Ross and Tina Turner— and after experiencing his emotion-evoking gig, it was ever so evident why.

Cray, a man who is responsible for igniting the ‘80s blues revival, came across as a melodic voice of the people. With an Otis Redding tone, and a Dylan-esque story-telling style, Cray’s songs go down smooth, and leave a lingering buzz, like a straight shot of gin.

Before Cray took to the stage, attendees were treated to the sounds of Denver’s own Delta Sonics. Producing a mixture of blues, jazz, swing and all around juke-joint jamability, these skilled musicians set the mood. Al Chesis’ harmonica playing was reminiscent of Little Walker, while his blue suit was akin to the threads of Little Richard.

After a swing-heavy opener, the Delta Sonics jumped into Sonny Boy Williamson’s classic, ‘Red Hot Kisses.’

During a cover of Muddy Water’s ‘I Done Got Over It,’ guitarist Erik Boa showed off some vocal skills that would have made the originator proud.

A few songs in, the boys welcomed the ‘world’s youngest harmonica player.’ A miniature mystery man, sporting a blond Mohawk and press-on tattoos made his way up to the stage. With encouragement from frontman Chesis, “We gotta keep this music alive,” the talented tike wailed on the harmonica like an old pro. This youngster’s skills on the harp motivated blues aficionados to migrate from their seats and secure a spot on the dance floor. His very presence acted as a reminder of the undying nature of soulful music.

The Delta Sonics pushed musical collaboration to the next level, when Chesis actually held down chords as Boa strummed away on the very same six-string. The local group’s set came equipped with on-stage jumping, shoe-shuffling and the overall spicy showmanship of yesteryear.

Up next, Cray and his band of tight musicians walked on stage ready to generously disperse their songs that highlight the constant complexities of human existence. The amps behind them ironically and appropriately read ‘Matchless.’ From the first few seconds of playing, I realized the name stamped across the amps encompassed so much more than the brand of equipment, but stood as a reminded that we were in the presence of greats.

‘The Smoking Gun’ had all the drama of a cinematic scene in the form of moaning vocals and guitar. Its subject matter of suspecting a woman of two-timing was paired with the aural fret and anxiousness that came forth from Cray’s guitar.

‘Right Next Door’ articulately laid out the turmoil that occurs after a mate has been caught cheating. In this particular tune, Cray took on the persona of the man who had laid down with a taken woman. He listens to the couple argue through paper-thin walls and quickly realizes he is the reason for their turmoil. He sang with conviction, ‘She was right next door and I'm such a strong persuader/That she was just another notch on my guitar…’

During ‘Poor Johnny’ he switched to the role of wise narrator singing a cautionary tale of a high rolling cool cat who received a beating due to his habitual bed-hopping. When his ladies find out about one another they decide to ‘teach him a lesson and make things right…’—which may have consisted of putting Poor Johnny six feet under.

‘Chicken in the Kitchen’ told the tale of a man who slaved over the stove for his lady, only to find her stumbling home after supper hours. This tune about domestic duties not being fully appreciated came complete with the sort of blues guitar playing that B.B. King would have savored.

Cray dove right into Elmore James’ tune ‘12-Year-Old Boy’ with knock-your-socks-off guitar playing and continued with lyrics tinged with deep-seated vocal emotion.

‘The Bad Influence’ had a Muddy Waters feel, with its lyrics about a woman taking every last dime. Cray’s exceptional tone and range was showcased during this old song that still held so true.

The most hard-hitting moment came with ‘Backdoor Slam,’— a bad-boy mantra played with pure sumptuousness by Cray. He sang the opening line, ‘I was born in the backseat of a travelin’ hurricane…’ and from that moment the audience was swept up in his song. The groove-laden chorus and keyboard charisma kept fans in the eye of this instrumental storm.

The five-time Grammy-award winner concluded the night with a sense of humbleness, closing out the gig with ‘Time Takes Two.’ The bone-chilling ballad about timeless love had Cray wearing his blues-infused heart on his sleeve. Its stand out guitar intro embodied the very feeling of sorrow.

This veteran of music put on a flawless show where perfect pitch and precise guitar playing was offered up in a way that seemed as effortless as taking a deep breath. Soft spoken, but exuding a coolness much greater than the other side of the pillow, Cray proves that like wine, blues musicians only get better with age.

What do you get when a band known for their funky grooves decides to pair up with a soul soldier to recreate the hip-shaking magic of a legendary posse? Pure perfection. A few days shy of Halloween, the Motet, along with guest Gail Muldrow who lent her blistering guitar and vocal skills to Sly and the Family Stone throughout the seventies, came together for a set as colorful as the band they were honoring.

Starting off the eve with ‘Dance to the Music’ members of the Motet, some decked out in dashikis, set the manic mood. A single steady drum beat flooded into a rapturous ocean of guitar, bass, keyboard and horns. The costumed crowd soaked it up from the initial chakra-igniting notes. An abdominal snow ape and a spandex clad-Leeloo from The Fifth Element got down.

The soulful beats paired brilliantly with the fantasy atmosphere like a very outta-sight platter of Cab and brie. This Fox gig offered up a psychedelic playground of sights and sounds for fans to partake in. All one had to do was surrender and leap arms outstretched down the rabbit hole…and leap they did.

“Stand” with its rebellious rhythm and air of revolution, came off politically charged, but still maintained its groovability.

‘Everyday People,’ the quintessential let’s get along anthem, sounded as good as it did when it first took the music scene by storm in 1969 when it held the top spot on Billboard’s Hot 100 for four weeks.

During this track, Muldrow took the reigns by adding her vocals, “There is a Blue one/who can’t accept the green one….”

Slowing down the hurried vibe of ‘Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin),’ the Motet managed to morph the old-school favorite into a novel tune with the smoothness of churning butter. Rich and undeniably delectable this savory song spread through the crowd with a sense of melodic wonder.

During ‘You Can Make it if You Try’ the bands’ vocals came together in harmonizing glory, like a pack of angelic beams of hope held together by the force of funk.

The initial guitar intro to ‘I Want to Take You Higher’ pretty much captured the mood of the night. With ever ‘boom chachalacha’ billowing out of our well-oiled musical machine, fans were taken even further on this musical journey.

‘In Time’ mellowed things out a bit with its smooth key-laden grooves. When Ingber belted out, ‘I told you it's not the teachin’ it's the learnin,’ he came across as a wise afro-clad philosopher.

During ‘One Way,’ Danny Porter wailed away on the keyboard, leading a very freshly organic instrumental jam. Vocals chimed back in, but quickly gave way to a mind altering horn section’s sassy screams.

During ‘If You Want Me to Stay,’ Jans Ingber’s vocals charted new territory, dipping into highs and lows, while attendees swayed sensuously to strong sax playing courtesy of Dominic Lalli. It came on like a sun shower of aural delight, refreshingly reigning down on attendees—each note holding a reviving energy.

‘Shine it On’ started with heavy bass slapping leading into vocals by special guest Paul Creighton, who made the trip in from Portland, Oregon for this festive night. As he belted out, ‘They may not like/the way you walk/They may not listen/when you talk,” it was clear this man was more than just a good dancer in a bad seventies wig. Creighton’s vocal ability matched some of the best on the soul and funk scene.

‘A Family Affair,” with its soulful lyrics and we-a-tribe vibe, catapulted the feeling of togetherness to a whole new level. Pink-wigged ladies linked arms with punk princesses and belted out the words with passion.

You could tell the musicians were fully feeling the funkdafied freedom as they busted out a bevy of different moves—a free flowing culmination of steps reminiscent of the late James Brown.

Throughout the night multiple televisions displayed montages of retro footage of Soul Train like images adding to the already present obscure atmosphere.

‘Loose Booty’ gave the crowd yet another opportunity to let it all hang out.

Weaving songs together with the skill of hip knitters, the Motet took these classics and made them their own—slightly new takes on the old greats.

Part cover band, part originators, these rebels of sound managed to put on a show capturing the real raw-joy that can only be found in an amplified collage of booming bass and lusty licks.

Taking a step back from their own electro salsa jazz, this Boulder band stretched their sound with the ease of manipulating a fresh piece of taffy.

On this pre-Halloween gig, the Motet proved to be givers of a tart treat whose energy and power couldn’t possibly fit in a tattered pillow case.

On Nov. 17, Denver’s Ellie Caulkins Opera House was filled with the sweet songs of lost love, simplicity and addiction. The source of this therapeutic rapture was former shoe-factory worker turned folk phenomenon Ray LaMontagne. With a voice that harbors the kind of goosebumps and butterflies that first love brings, he captures the many emotions that coincide with the human condition.

An every-day man armed with a guitar and his own truth, Lamontagne breathes new life into a genre which was thought to have reached its pinnacle in the ‘60s. Getting back to basics and producing the kind of music one would hear billowing out of an isolated cabin on a mountain top, LaMontagne brings the genuineness and rugged gentility back to rock.

Retro, but at the very same time very now, like a carpenter of notes and harmonies he has managed to carve out a deep and influential niche in the rich mahogany wood of music.

On this Tuesday eve, attendees got a very talkative LaMontagne, who seemed to feel the desire to not just serenade us with his art, but also give us glimpses into his personal life and the very spider web of thoughts which jumped off his tongue freely. From mentioning his brother who is serving time in prison to bringing up his experience on Elvis Costello’s Sundance show Spectacle, LaMontagne’s commentary like his music came off tried and true.

Before he took the stage, an unknown, but very refreshing, opener graced us with her candid presence. With locks of gold and fairly large glasses, Lissie came off as completely in the moment— endearingly grooving to all her own songs as she played. Her often jerky, almost angered, movements complimented her voice that was reminiscent of both fresh cut steel and windswept sweet grain.

Her rendition of Hank Williams Sr.’s ‘Wedding Bells’ came off beautifully sad and honest.

During ‘Everywhere I Go’ her vocal ability and artistry shined like a stained-glass mosaic propped up against a sun-soaked window.

She closed her set with ‘Little Lovin.’ This spunky tune that mentioned the mighty Mississippi and getting a spot in heaven was captivating, much like the graceful sway of a tire swing in a twister.

After flashing the peace sign and thanking us for our attentiveness, she made her exit.

LaMontagne served us ‘Empty’ early in the night. The self-actualization seeped out like sap from the initial lyrics of, “I never learned to count my blessings/I choose instead to dwell in my disasters.’

‘Jolene,’ exuded all the makings of a touching novel about the hardships that coincide with letting another love you when you ravel in self-destruction. With lyrics like ‘A man needs something he can hold onto/a nine pound hammer or a woman like you,’ LaMontagne proved he could craft lyrics that even old notable writers would envy.

He played ‘Sarah’ while an old black and white of a train track humbly lingered in the background—like a reminder of journeys past and those yet to happen—a true artistic pairing of sound and sight.

During ‘Narrow Escape,’ LaMontagne wailed away on the harmonica with the strength of an old locomotive.

‘Winter Birds’ a folk ballad was lullaby-like.

He paid homage to a very fierce female voice of country music by covering Lucinda Williams’ ‘Fruits of My Labor.’ From the initial lines of, ‘Baby, see how I been living/ velvet curtains on the windows/ to keep the bright and unforgiving light from shining through’ it was evident that this was a tune just waiting to be covered by LaMontagne.

‘You are the Best Thing,’ the normally horn-laden jazzy single, was turned into a completely different species— one still with a thriving heartbeat, but possessing a slow and steady pace.

LaMontagne even stopped a few lines in to have the sound guy make some adjustments— an act that was praised by fans with a ravenous round of applause. Adding in some lyrics that didn’t make the record version—‘A junkie’s desire/an angel’s fire’ he let his artistic integrity jump out of the cage headfirst. His earlier mention of the fight to do your own thing in the business and the hassle of meeting with industry guys to ‘talk shop’ seemed to resonate stronger than ever.

With the first initial strums of ‘Burn,’ LaMontagne unleashed a raspy ‘Ohhh Mama!’ with the ease of breathing.

‘Trouble’ offered up an abundance of heart-stop moments where you couldn’t help but find yourself overcome by raw talent. As he belted out ‘I’ve been saved by a woman…’it was as clear as vodka that he meant it.

‘All the Wild Horses’ came out graceful and mysterious, much like a pack of untamed heavy-hoofed chestnuts galloping on white sand. LaMontagne’s powerful, yet soothing, vocals conjured up chills and a standing ovation.

Like an aural shot of warmed-up whiskey, his performance gave attendees a balmy lingering buzz, one that left them high off his amber-infused presence.

While panties weren’t thrown on stage, comments of a naughty nature were dispersed by certain female fans throughout the set. ‘We’re gonna make babies tonight, Ray!’ one woman yelled. LaMontagne, a self-described ‘facilitator of romance,’ seemed to take these outbursts in stride.

The  combination of LaMontagne's voice and songwriting is like a strew of old skeleton keys or an antique typewriter, it holds a mystery and force that can’t always be expressed—but when you are in the same room with it, it manages to captivate your attention and flood your mind with the sort of inspiring thoughts that give you a reason to wake in the morning.

From a dready skater busking on the streets of Australia, to a world-touring artist selling out one of America’s most premiere venues, John Butler proves authenticity in music truly prevails.

Friday night’s Red Rocks gig was simulcast live over cyber waves to ensure that the whole globe could relish in the spunky, feel-good beats the Aussie chaps threw down on this, their largest headlining show.

The festivities were kicked off by Bostonian reggae rockers State Radio, who blended together opposite genres of music with ease. While their pop punkish vibe differed from the other acts on the bill, the crowd still seemed entranced by their songs which definitely set the celebratory mood.

Prior to Butler’s set, the three musketeers of jazzy funk-laden grooves, Medeski Martin and Wood, treated attendees to their distinct danceable sound, which fans have come to know and freakin love. These guys reinforced the fact that you don’t need one line of a lyric to ignite a wave of excitement with their atonal and arrhythmic improves, that oozed like bubbling lava from volcanic rock.

Right before JBT’s set, Jam fans where treated to a heavy dose of Native American culture. Plains Indians passionately beat on drums and offered up traditional singing, along with a blessing. Dancers, in full headdresses, demonstrated a series of authentic moves symbolic of the very facets of nature itself. A youngster mimicked the hurried motions of a ‘prairie chicken,’ which had members of the audience feeling as though they had just stepped into the National Geographic Channel.

But, the sight of these special guests somehow fit perfectly into the setting, once you stop to think about Butler— a man who has lent his voice to aboriginal rights and who usually starts gigs by thanking the ‘indigenous people’ of the land.

As the natives exited the stage, Butler and the boys jumped headfirst into ‘Used to Get High,’ the track that starts with a drummer-boy intro and blasts off into a rapture of instrumental fervor.

Randomly, the dancers made their way back on stage, to shake some feathers and jam out to the opening tune, which created a commanding visual statement. The sight of these folks, whose ancestors had been the initial inhabiters of the land, grooving to a song that warned against consumerism and all of its addictive downfalls spoke volumes.

‘Don’t Wanna See Your Face’ was schoolyard bully dialogue paired with early Red Hot Chili Pepper-esque beats that conjured up head bopping. Bassist Byron Luiters seemed to capture the playfulness of Flea.

A banjo blazing toe-tappin’ hoe-down segwayed into ‘Better Than’— the gleeful tune that advises listeners to stop with the 'grass-is-always-greener' covet mentality.

‘Treat Your Mama Right,’ the unofficial treehuggerin anthem, sounded right on as Butler rested his caboose on a seat and pulled out the old dobro for some slide style action. Lyrics about environmental treesitters nestled perfectly against the wailing sounds escaping from Butler’s instrument.

During ‘Losing You,’ a valentine of a song whose message toys with the notion of all we need is love, Butler was joined by his wife Danielle. While the idea of the couple singing together was enthralling, the very act fell short of moving. Danielle’s voice seemed to drown out Butler’s and the lack of harmony couldn’t have been more apparent.

With ‘Zebra,’ once again the positive beats crashed head on with the encouraging lyrics—‘I can be anything I put my mind to boy/all I gotta do is give myself half a chance.’ In a sense, Butler is like a guidance counselor, only with shredding skills that rival Clapton.

At one point in the evening, he gazed out at the crowd and expressed how the amphitheater resembled a ‘launch ramp into the cosmos’ and he invited us to join him in a universal prayer for ‘peace, unity and love on this planet.’

Drummer Nicky Bomba jumped on the metaphysical bandwagon encouraging attendees to actually turn, face away from the stage, and with arms raised give a warm shout-out to the universe.

Hugged by the crimson rocks, fans listened and bestowed a gift of gratitude to the earth on this warm June night.

A three-song encore started off with 2004’s classic ‘Peaches and Cream’— a mellowed out song where Butler wore his family-man heart on his guitar strap, praising the very presence of his wife and children in thoughtful lyrics.

‘One Way Road,’ the single off of the latest album April Uprising, got fan’s feet flailing once again. This track captured all the elements of a JBT hit— socially conscious lyrics heavily doused with a catchy riff and chorus that days later will no doubt swim around in your skull like a shiny gilled goldfish.

‘Funky Tonight’ was marked by thumping bass and lyrics about getting down that still managed to stay within the PG arena.

The highlight of the night came with ‘Ocean,’ an effervescent guitar solo that has the ability to sweep you up in mere seconds. Starting off with mildly beautiful plucks and later catapulting into strum-heavy nirvana, it exemplifies the very magic of music. 

Butler even used his six-string to add some percussion, smacking the body of his guitar with drive and for a moment it became clear-----take away the stellar lighting and the 9,450 fans and he still was that bohemian musician thankful for attentive ears and crumpled loot in his guitar case.