7.29.2024 Red Rocks Part 2: Santa at the Rocks, Finally

In August 1980, just before classes began at Colorado State, my husband (then a relatively new love interest) and I and group of friends jumped into the back of someone’s old pickup with a gallon of the old kind of mezcal (with the worm) and warm lemonade (yeah, college students move) and headed to Red Rocks Amphitheater to see Santana. A late start plus miscalculations about travel time along the 75 or so miles meant that our parking spot was in the back of one of the lots. Upon arrival, we were told that, due to weather, the concert was being moved to the Denver Coliseum. Obviously, sets were simpler then.

Our delayed arrival paid off. We were among the first to leave, to arrive at the Coliseum, and then to race into the general admission “seating” where we were able to stand at the stage. If allowed, and I asked, I could have jumped up to sit at Carlos' feet.

Our much younger ears didn’t balk at the proximity to the speakers and the passion and musical power of a much younger Carlos was jaw-droppingly impressive. That night’s version of “Europa” was so lovely and long and luxurious, that we wondered how it would have sounded at Red Rocks.
​
Last weekend, and 43 years later (!), we did not, unfortunately, hear “Europa,” but the tall, layered Creation and Ship Rocks on either side of the arena sent “Samba Pa Ti” straight into my heart. Carlos is still able to bend his strings, to pull out the sweetness of his guitar like no other. And his wife, the effing amazing drummer Cindy Blackman, was in the house, wowing us with her energetic solos and seamless rhythms with the other percussionists. Stellar. Who needs MDMA, when Carlos can bring his audience so naturally into ecstasy.