The Reverb staff spent the weekend sharing short scenes from UMS 2014. On day four we saw zombies at the , a turkey leg-induced black eye and more.
See our full coverage of UMS 2014 here.
Scott Heron had a long week. If The UMS wasn’t already enough, there was the car that crashed into the front of his bar. Then, on top of dealing with “cosmetic” structural damage, scads of people flocking to Skylark Lounge for beer and music seemed endless over the course of the four-day festival. On Sunday morning, Heron was seeking refuge in the upstairs portion of the bar. The night before, both levels of the bar were packed, with people dancing to music and patrons playing pool and shuffle board. Heron was perched on an open window sill, looking out at an empty South Broadway and Maple Street, as if he could already see festivalgoers lining up. “It’s been bigger than any other UMS,” he said. “The best weekend we’ve ever had.” He conceded that four days felt like a marathon, but he was happy to note that this year his bar had a much better line-up, and thus pulled more attendees. If that wasn’t evidenced in the hordes of fans there for bands such as Roadkill Ghost Choir, Whiskey Shivers, and Bonnie and the Beard, it was by sales and the fast-dwindling supply of Lone Star. Little did Heron know, though, the biggest dose of mayhem was just a few hours away, in the form of Dudebabes. — Sean Fitz-Gerald
Every set of eyes in the Hi-Dive at midnight on the Sunday of UMS is looking, but not seeing. The bodies wonder almost aimlessly, most finding themselves bumping into the bar or into the group in front of the stage. Itap dark in there, too. The only light comes from a projector shooting a beam from the back of the Hi-Dive, through bodies and casting slumping silhouettes on the stage. Itap also loud. is playing, but tonight the duo’s synth-pop is more like lullabies for the dead. Despite their body’s unwillingness to exert any extra energy, the zombies in the audience force themselves to move. Many of them are supported by a wall, by a friend, or the buzz of one last day of drinking. The only people who seem truly alive are on stage. Ethan Converse’s vocals have soul, and the only emotion in the Hi-Dive other than exhaustion. Itap a tough time-slot to be given, but Rose Quartz is taking its time, slowly building the sore, delirious crowd into something nearing excitement. Rose Quartz gives them an excuse to dance one last time, to feel something other than the impending hangover. — Matt Miller
The final day of the UMS was store with injuries as the drunk masses determinedly partied through exhaustion. When started chucking foil-wrapped turkey legs at the crowd, one connected with Laura Keeney’s face. The only remedy on hand was whiskey, and shortly after the band gave flight to flightless birds Keeney stood outside the Hi-Dive, holding a makeshift ice pack to her face, a deep purple bruise already forming under her eye. Not long after, a sea of black T-shirts was thrashing around to at the stage. One young man in a blue shirt emerged from the mass of bodies a little more beaten than others. He went for the stage dive and after the crowd tried (and failed) to catch him, he got up and tried again. The same went for a dude in a werewolf mask and gloves and Peyton Manning Jersey. At the last show of the last night of the UMS, he was completely determined to keep things weird and party through the very last screams and cymbal crashes. We were all Werewolf Manning, in some way, and we are all bruised and exhausted from our rampage today. — Ashley Dean
The Underground Music Showcase was often a weekend of contrasts. There were mild-mannered indie-rock bands and hyperactive oldskool hip hop bands. Many fans walked around as human canvases, others didn’t even have a small tattoo. And for every drunken fan there was one who was sipping coke. But one of the most striking contrasts occurred on Sunday with ‘s 3:30 p.m. set and Speedwolf’s 10 p.m. set. The Royal put on a smooth but vibrant show, full of piano-heavy pop-rock in the tune of The Killer’s later music. After the show, lead singer Tyler Hayden ran of stage, kissed a girl and then bent down on one knee and proposed. After a flurry of cheers and a rowdy applause, the crowd happily dispersed. “I just thought about it last night,” Hayden said. “It wouldn’t leave my mind yesterday.” Compare that to the late-night chaos brought upon by Denver-based metal band Speedwolf at Three Kings Tavern. It started off like any other show, with the usual sound checks, practice riffs and shouts of “are you ready Denver.” But then the lead singer tossed a 5-10 round firecracker in the middle of the crowd, who gasped and jumped out of the way, staring at the slow-burning fuse. After the explosions rattled away the open mouths and wide-eyes, Speedwolf began jamming, and the crowd never stopped moshing and jumping. It was an utterly chaotic 40 minutes, with a visit from the grim reaper and guy in a werewolf suit. Both showered the crowd in giant buckets of water, which caused many hilarious spills and much needed cooling in the hot and stuffy venue. — Jordan Gonzalez
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