Things To Do In Denver When He’s Dead

Our tastes may vary, but you always impress me. I hope that it’s clear that I respect you.

I was so disappointed in the movie that I crudely referred to in this topic’s headline. It had such a solid cast; but the dialogue was so overly ambitious and winkingly self-aware. If you’ve read my posts (and, if you have, I’m flattered and pleased) you know that I like crime movies. I wanted to like Things . . . Denver. Instead, I found it to be histrionic and creepy, trying desperately to be clever.

As for John Denver: I have grown to appreciate and in fact enjoy country music. I’m a bit of a musical (and other things) historian. I’ve a life-long connection to rock ‘n roll. My mother played Elvis and Bill Haley and the Comets on our car radio when we went for a ride. Later I learned what a debt both those artists owed to Chuck Berry, who I believe created rock ‘n roll. He created it out of a musical form named Rockabilly. If you’ve ever seen the questionable movie Rhinestone, with Dolly Parton and Sylvester Stallone, the final scene shows how Rock emerged from the bedrock of Country. I sneered at Countey from my white middle-class 60s background, until I moved to Boston and had the privilege and pleasure to see Reba McIntire front The Boston Pops in a Christmas concert at Boston Symphony Hall, and she opened my eyes, and ears. Years later, I found that my favorite singer, Eva Cassidy, sang Country (and everything else) with a passion, beauty, artistry and love that moves me to tears, and I say that unashamedly as a very heterosexual man. (I recommend Eva Cassidy to you, if you’ve not found her already.) Having verbosely said all that, I’ve always found John Denver’s work to be calculated and crass. He changed his surname to be consonant with Rocky Mountain High. He seems to have been created by a marketing team, like The Monkees and The Spice Girls; hence my disdain. I am human, hence imperfect, hence I invoke my right to be wrong.

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