Summer Guide 2001 

Surf ’n SLC

SUMMER A - Z Our alphabetical guide to big hot summer fun is back!

By Bill Frost

A is for Alcohol, the American pastime that brings families together. Make this a summer to remember—vaguely—by introducing the kiddies to fun-filled booze with a thirst-quenching “adult” product like Mike’s Hard Lemonade (lemony clear malt) or Smirnoff Ice (lemony vodka). Yum!

B is for Beer—specifically, Wasatch Slickrock Lager, the A-Z List’s absolute favorite brew for summer, as well as fall, winter and spring. No educational significance, reader, just shameless pimping for a full-ride sponsorship (and free stuff) from the Wasatch brewmeisters. Move along.

C is for Coffin, one that comes as a kit. What better way to while away the summer than by building your own casket? A pine or hardwood coffin kit from Bert & Bud’s Vintage Coffins of Kentucky (www.VintageCoffins.com) goes for a mere $550 and comes pre-drilled for easy assembly—they even throw in the screwdriver. The stylish Bert & Bud T-shirts (featuring the motto “We put the fun back in funeral”) cost extra and, appropriately, only come in black.

D is for Décolletage. With the hot weather there’s going to be a lot of it, men—don’t get caught staring in a slack-jawed stupor. However, should you get busted, merely look her in the eyes and say, “That’s a lovely necklace … My girlfriend/wife/mother had one just like it … She’s dead!” Then start sobbing uncontrollably and run away. What’s décolletage? Look it up in a dictionary—that’s a double-“D” score for the List! Puns are a harsh mistress.

E is for Elvis Presley, who died on Aug. 16, 1977. Commemorate the 24th anniversary of the King’s death by admiring some décolletage and saying, “Thank ya, thank ya very much ma’am.”

F is for Fire, an A-Z tradition. All together now: Stuff will burn this summer. Don’t know where, don’t know how, but stuff will burn.

G is for the Gambler, known to layfolk as Kenny Rogers, purveyor of summeriffic roasted chicken and, according to some, a pretty decent song stylist. Doubt the god-like status of Herr Rogers? Check out www.MenWho LookLikeKennyRogers.com during your lazy summer downtime and marvel at his army of silver-mulleted servants—not to mention the crooner’s tasty corn muffin recipe. This is why the Internet was invented.

H is for Hamburgers, which should be grilled at 160 degrees Fahrenheit to kill harmful bacteria at summer barbecues. Gardenburger cooking temperatures may vary, but who eats those except godless commies who represent everything that’s wrong with America, anyway? Meat! Now!

I is for Ice, once again. As reported in years past, it’s still the rage for summer: “A great new invention just has been released by the government into the public sector: frozen water. Developed in the space program, this concoction is actually very simple to prepare and will help make summers much cooler. Call your local federal agency for a free brochure.” The classics will always endure—Smirnoff Ice excluded.

J is for Jenna Bush, hell-raisin’ daughter of President Dubya. The underage Jenna has been twice busted for purchasing booze, and the stridently pro-alcohol A-Z List salutes her tenacity. Can we, like, hook up sometime this summer, J-Bu? ID is not a problem.

K is for Karma. Rest assured, the no-account parties responsible for assembling this list will get their comeuppance. Probably by being forced to use the word “comeuppance” in a sentence. Hey, wait a minute …

L is for Laughs, and you could use a few. Salt Lake City (as well as Ogden and Provo) has more live comedy going down every week than many “metropolitan” burgs twice its size. When was the last time you availed yourself of the primo national and local stand-up comic talent at Wiseguys, the Comedy Circuit, Laughs Comedy Café or Johnny B’s? Or the improv antics of Quick Wits and Knock Your Socks Off at the Avalon Theatre? Get a sense of humor this summer.

M is for, as always, Movies. Hot flicks on the A-Z radar: Tomb Raider (Angelina Jolie goes archeological on your ass—could make a good video game, too; opens June 15). Made (Swingers Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn turn criminal, with Famke Janssen and Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Poof Dooky; opens July 13). Planet of the Apes (Marky Mark and a funky bunch o’ monkeys in Tim Burton’s remake; opens July 27). Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back (Kevin Smith’s last stand as a mum pot dealer—on screen, anyway; opens Aug. 10). Must-avoids: A.I., American Pie 2, Jurassic Park 3, Jason X: Friday the 13th Pt. 10 and Brigham City 2: The Fluoride Murders. Cool theater tip follows …

N is for No lines, which is what you’ll find at the recently reopened Holladay Cinema 6 theaters. It’s still the same spiffy movie house it was under the Loews-Cineplex regime, with the added bonuses of the masses not knowing it’s back in smaller-corporate biz with waaay cheap concession prices. Yes, you can get pop ‘n’ popcorn for under $32.

O is for Olympics—you know, the 2002 Winter Olympics. There remain exactly 246 days to formulate a plan for getting the hell out of Salt Lake City before the two-week police state pounces. Tick-tock, tick-tock …

P is for Perky. Face it, who wants to wear hip summer fashions without the hot accessories of the moment—proudly protruding nipples? “Not me,” we’re all thinking to ourselves. Thank goodness for BodyPerks, the one-size-fits-all silicone stick-ons that give you those desirable frozen-food-aisle stiffies 24-7. “Whether you’re out on the town or playing volleyball, BodyPerks comfortably stay in place and give you the added attraction of playful, fun breasts,” says the brochure at www.BodyPerks.com, adding, “You’ll feel and look sexy!” Hey, these would be a great idea for women, too.

Q is for Quality entertainment, the kind the Summer A-Z List brings you each and every year. Hard to believe it’s free, huh?

R is for Raging Waters, the A-Z List’s choice for landlocked hydro-fun. Sneak in a few gallons of Mike’s Hard Lemonade or Smirnoff Ice (as noted in “A,” both easily pass for plain ol’ lemonade), then try and tell the difference between Blue Thunder and White Lighting after a shot or 12. Just make sure your BodyPerks don’t fall off.

S is for Sunblock—kind of a summer no-brainer, not unlike this list. Which is the right SPF (sun protection factor, genius) for a melanoma-free you? Match your skin type to the corresponding celebrity on the tan-to-pasty scale: Dave Candland (SPF -30), Crocodile Dundee (SPF 8), Ricky Martin (SPF 25), Faith Hill (SPF 40), SuperDell (SPF 75), Ben Fulton (SPF 5,000).

T is for Television—flip directly to The Only TV Column That Matters™ buried somewhere in this issue to get the lowdown on the summer’s cool tube action. Or keep reading this fluff, whatever.

U is for Utahraptor, one of the many long-dead critters on display right now at Thanksgiving Point’s Dinosaur Museum, a hands-on warm-up for the July 7 grand opening of the North American Museum of Ancient Life, projected to be the largest dinosaur museum in the world, right here in Zion. For your information, the Utahraptor is not KSL’s Dick Nourse, OK?

V is for the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement, a group (from Portland, natch) who propose to save Mother Earth by convincing mankind to go the way of the dinosaurs and quit breeding—if you choose to take yourself out, even better. Things lefty leader Les U. Knight and his followers are opposed to: production and use of weapons; toxin production, such as petrochemical and nuclear; exploitation of natural and human resources; promotion of reproductive fascism; and Bob Hope’s continuing reluctance to just get in the ground already. Join the cause this summer at www.VHEMT.org.

W is for Water—it’s for you, not your lawn. Drink up and read on …

X is for Xeriscape, the kind of landscaping that residents of a desert (this means you) should logically embrace instead of aqua-sucking green lawns. Just think, all of the water saved by arranging rocks, cacti, shrubs and twigs in the front yard could be used for more important purposes. Like brewing beer.

Y is for Yubizume, the traditional method of apology of the Yakuza, otherwise known as the Japanese Mafia. The offender cuts off his little finger and presents it to the person they’ve wronged, who accepts by saying nothing—especially not, “Dude! Gross!” To receive the pinky you’ve rightly earned by making it this far down the A-Z List, please send a self-addressed stamped envelope care of this newspaper.

Z is for Zinfandel, the perfect wine for summer—but not bookend proof that the A-Z list is hooch-obsessed. Zins go nicely with steaks, ribs and other summer barbecue staples, plus just saying the name makes you sound classy. But don’t serve it in a 40-ounce gas station mega-mug, as it tends to negate the “classy” thing.

REVIVING THE DRIVE

“Thanks to the Interstate Highway System, it is now possible to travel from coast to coast without seeing anything.” Charles Kuralt

By Brenda Baird

In our fast-paced, work-a-day society, leisure time is a precious commodity. We bust our asses to clear our desks so we can get to work on relaxing, using our frequent flier miles to jet off to sunnier places with built-in good times.

Flying is easy and convenient these days, but it’s so destination-oriented. Get there and get crackin’—order your piña colada and move on. Traveling should involve more movement than vacating your desk chair and taking up residence in a beach chair.

In the spirit of adventure and freedom from the working vacation, this summer is the perfect time to revive an American classic: the road trip. You don’t need a list of numbers to leave with your secretary. Just set aside a little time—two hours, two days, two weeks, whatever you’ve got—and grab your car keys.

It’s important not to put a pressing time frame on the trip, and not to select a destination. Rather, select a direction and just mosey around, driving down roads that you’ve never been down, stopping at interesting-looking stores and eating the specials at local diners. Take pictures of the truly bizarre and beautiful, and always pose interestingly. Some of my favorite pictures are of my family’s drive-around in Boston, standing on a pier and trying to spell our names using our bodies as letters.

Practice spontaneity and silliness at all times. Make up stories about passengers in other cars. Isn’t that Elvis driving the Delta 88 with the left blinker on? Absurdly bad jokes are a must: Holler “Hey!” whenever you drive past a hayfield; “Damn!” for a dam; “Oh dear!” for deer. Road trips are also excellent for catching up on the long-lost art of conversation.

Of course, there are a few rules. Anytime you’re exploring a community, remember that the sights you’re seeing are somebody’s home. Never toss anything out the window or drive like a maniac. And don’t trespass, either. Off-roading through someone’s land or frightening the livestock is never necessary. Besides, nothing ruins a perfectly nice drive like a traffic violation.

So, if you’re up for adventure, stop reading here and seek your own roads. But in the event that you need to start reintroducing yourself to America’s highways and byways slowly, these one-tank road trips are must-tries. Keeping in mind the ‘no destination is a good thing’ theory, here’s a list of directions to get you started:

Coalville and Echo Reservoir. Blend lake-life with small town America and you have this region near the meeting point of I-80 and I-84. If you’ve got a little more time, go further up I-80 to Evanston, have a cup of coffee and pick up a keg and some bottle rockets while you’re out there. Of course, there’s plenty of good driving in the Coalville area, including some wonderfully bumpy dirt roads. Coalville is also home to the Summit County Fair in August.

Antelope Island. Take I-15 North and follow the signs across the causeway. There’s a $7 per vehicle fee to get onto the island, but once you’re there, the driving, hiking, camping and general lake-ing possibilities are open to exploration. Check out the Fielding Garr Ranch on the south side of the island and Antelope Island State Park on the north side. The island boasts 36 miles of trails for hiking, biking and horseback riding, and a marina for boating or boat-watching.

Wendover. Got the urge to gamble and mullet-watch? A quick hour-and-a-half down I-80 through the salt flats and there you are. Of course, your Southerner relatives will never forgive you if you live in Utah and never get around to speeding around the Bonneville Speedway (about four miles from the Nevada border). Don’t forget to take a picture of the weird phallic statue in the middle of nowhere. And of course, once you get stationed at any hotel/casino in Wendover, the weirdness quotient improves dramatically as night falls.

Lost Creek Lake. Just east of Morgan is the Devil’s Slide, a rock formation that makes for a great touristy photo op, and nearby is a wonderful drive through farming community Croyden to Lost Creek State Park (exit 111 off I-84). It’s a pretty bumpy ride, though, so 4-wheel-drive is highly recommended. Primitive camping and your standard lake activities are available, although the website warns of whirling disease.

Idaho Falls. First, there’s the falls themselves, which are surrounded by an inviting park that’s perfect for a picnic and people-watching. Then, there’s the drive up I-15 through fabulous northern Utah and past the Lava Hot Springs. Finally, there’s Moose Drool beer and those delightfully friendly Idaho folks—especially my friends Spring and Star in the Stardust Lounge. They do a mean Celine Dion on karaoke night but just don’t appreciate a good Led Zeppelin duet when they hear one.

Park City. For the highbrow road trip, Park City is an excellent choice. The drive up I-80 through Parley’s Summit is incredibly scenic, and once you get into the city, you’ve got a fine selection of “It’s nice to dream, isn’t it?” neighborhoods to peruse. Park alongside Main Street and make like a tourist. Duck into art galleries and shops, then surrender to your taste buds’ whims.

Emigration Canyon. One thing you know: you can’t go wrong with Emigration Canyon’s dining options, whether it’s upscale at Santa Fe or Utah’s favorite, Ruth’s Diner. With such easy access from Salt Lake via Foothill Drive, Emigration may be the place for the extremely novice road-tripper. Cruise around for a bit, then spend the rest of the afternoon in Hogle Zoo.

Little Cottonwood-Big Cottonwood-Millcreek Canyons. An ideal option for the road-tripper who’s short on time. Just because they’re next door, don’t assume you’ve seen all there is to see in the local canyons. All three offer camping, hiking, biking, and beer at your favorite Salt Lake City bar at the end of the day. For a truly magnificent drive, take Guardsman Pass from Big Cottonwood (marked only by a small Park City sign). The road forks, so head up for Park City, down for Heber City and Midway. Happy trails, either way you drive. XÅÍÎ??´

SUMMERS OF LABOR

Some Salt Lake City luminaries wax poetic about their most memorable summer jobs.

By Ben Fulton

Dishwashers, lawnmowers, and hotter-than-hell warehouses. Hey, how could you not remember your first summer job? Or that summer of youth when you looked and looked for a job, but ended up donating blood for a little spending money?

Your first summer job is probably the most defining experience of youth, as well as the road to greater professional glories. After all, who wouldn’t climb the ropes of college and graduate school after meeting the harsh realities of a minimum wage face-to-face? Summer jobs are the crucibles we all emerge from, the first encounters that harden us for the work-life to come.

In fact, according to United States Department of Labor statistics, more than 3 million teens under the age of 18 will work during the summer months. According to the same statistics, 70 of those teens are killed on the job, while more than 20,000 are injured. The moral? If you’re a teen, choose that job wisely. Money may seem important now, but think about your larger career goals as you angle for that mega-job later on.

Meanwhile, until you’ve found that perfect summer job, enjoy these anecdotes from local luminaries as they recall the best and worst of their own summer stints. That is, before they moved on to more lucrative callings.

Mark Shurtleff, Utah attorney general

“My very first job was working as a busboy for a country club. My very first entrepreneurial job was retrieving golf balls from Little Cottonwood Creek, then selling them back to golfers.

“My most memorable job, however, would have to be working for Utah Sign during the summer of 1974 when I was 17, I think. I spent three days atop the Union Pacific depot painting the Union Pacific Sign. The temperatures were scorching. Then once, while me and my partner were hauling a Taco Time sign, it came loose from the trailer, so we had to stop the rig and weld it back to the trailer. But the sparks started a small fire in the nearby field and we had to go stomp it out. Once we got back in the rig, though, we started to feel these painful biting sensations on our legs. It turned out that, while stomping the fire out in the field, we stepped in some very large red-ant hills. We had to stop the rig, get out, and flap our pants out to get rid of the ants. We were desperate to get these ants killed!

“The driver I worked with also chewed tobacco, and by the end of the day he had a cup full of spit. One day he decided to throw it out the window while we were driving, but the wind caught it and blew it right back up all over us. It hit me right in the side of the face. I felt like killing him. He was a lot older than me, but I was bigger than him. Even today I cringe when I see people spit tobacco. Someone I sat next to on a flight from D.C. was spitting tobacco into a cup. He asked me if I had a problem with it.”

Chip Ward, environmental activist and author of Canaries on the Rim

“All this takes place in New Jersey, where I grew up. One summer, two friends and I were hired to tear out a building with sledgehammers. Being 16 at the time, we thought it would be great fun to be paid for vandalism. Instead, it turned out to be a nightmare of fine plaster dust, splinters and sharp nails that we continually stepped on.

“I also cleaned public restrooms for the county park service. We’d better not go there. Let’s just say that you haven’t lived until you’ve cleaned public restrooms. Also, I once picked potatoes for two weeks until I could hardly stand up. Another summer, I took a job as a house painter, then spent my spare time trying to get paint out of my nostrils and ears.

“After that, in college, I spent a summer reporting for a local newspaper. That was far healthier, at least physically. Zoning meetings, however, might be considered a kind of mind pollution.”

Janalee Tobias, gun-rights and

open-space activist

“My worst summer job was hauling and sacking ash the summer that Mt. St. Helen’s erupted, in 1980 I think it was. I was probably 16 or 17 years old, living in my hometown of Shelley, Idaho. A friend we knew imported the ash, then we stuffed it into little sacks that were shipped and sold as souvenirs.

“We used to make a lot of ash jokes as we worked. You know, ‘There are fat ashes, and skinny ashes.’ We were working our ashes off! Ha! Genuine ash! People from all throughout the United States wanted ash! There were reports, though, of people selling fake ash. With farm girls from Shelley, Idaho, the puns just started flowing.

“I still have one of those little sacks somewhere. I don’t remember if we got paid hourly, or by the bag. I don’t even remember what it cost to buy a piece of ash. Ha, ha! But we got paid pretty good money to sack it.”

Jay Shelledy, editor, The

Salt Lake Tribune

“The worst summer job I ever had was when I was in high school, probably 17 years old. I was part of a road survey crew in the middle of the Baja Peninsula [Mexico], where the temperatures routinely exceeded 120 degrees. At the time it seemed like I was making pretty good money, but I don’t remember exactly how much. It was so hot you’d just drink water, wear your helmet, and try not to think about it. When you walked around the survey area it would be so hot you’d start to lose your sense of direction. If you stayed close to the people you were working with, though, that wasn’t a problem. I actually had an experience where I was walking along the area and it felt as if my brain was frying. It was an awful, miserable job. Going into the small Mexican villages at night, though, was fun.

“My most memorable job was being hired out as a deputy sheriff during the summer tourist season in Northern Idaho. I would patrol the lakes in beautiful, high-powered boats. That was a great experience.”

Jim Bradley, Salt Lake County

Council member

“I worked in cobalt and copper mines outside of Salmon, Idaho. That was hard work, but you’re in God’s country. It was beautiful.

“In one cobalt mine I went in alone to dig trenches so the mine tunnel could be drained of water. Basically, you were shoveling sludge and water in the dark. You’d get up at 7 a.m. to get to work, then come out of the mine thinking it was noon when it was really only 9 a.m. You lost sense of time being in the dark with just a headlamp for light. Working alone was really tough on you, too. It was hard work, and lonely. In retrospect, I could have fallen down a shaft and no one would have missed me for at least a day. It was an interesting job, but a hard one. But those are the adventures you don’t forget, either. I think I was 19 or 20 years old.

“When I was a bit younger, 18 I think, I worked in a warehouse for Gold-Stripe stamps, where they distributed merchandise people collected after turning in these stamps. Man, that got old really fast. The tedium was terrible. But then I had two roommates who worked at a soap factory and they came home smelling of lye every day, so at last I felt I was better off than they were.”

Trent Harris, local filmmaker and director of The Beaver Trilogy, Ruben and Ed, and Plan 10 From Outer Space

“Gosh, It seems so long since I’ve had a job. I moved pipe in Idaho, but I actually liked that. You got up early in the morning at 4 a.m., then you were through at 9 a.m. and had the rest of the day to yourself. Until 5 p.m. when you had to be back at work. I think I was 15 years old then.

“Working for National Geographic in the summer of 1988 was probably the worst, however. Talk about working with a bureaucracy. They had 90 people working on one show. I was the producer-slash-director. So any of these people were mid-level executives who got in the way. It drove you crazy. Some of the documentaries I made for them ended up being aired, others didn’t. I finished one documentary on an African tribe, then they sent me down to South Africa to produce a show there. It was about these people who painted their houses in these amazing designs, then had them torn down by the South African government. The people at National Geographic said it was too political. I think I ended up calling the executive producer a horse-cock, and that was the last time they called me back. That job was a lot worse than hauling pipe.”

Carol Gnade, executive director of the American Civil Liberties Union

“I do remember the first summer job I ever had. I was 13 years old, so that was probably in 1959. My dad was a doctor, and I worked in his clinic putting pills into little trays and drawers. My job was to count out 30 pills exactly, and put them in these trays. To me it was like working in an assembly plant, because we had all these huge jars of pills that needed sorting.

“Some of the pills were Dexedrine, speed basically, which was used back in the old days in diet pills. They made people thin, and awake. I had friends who wanted to buy them from me, but we won’t go there. I think I worked that job for a summer and a half, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I worked for slave wages, mind you. So I went on to get a job in a bakery the next summer. [Laughs] That really made me want to take some of those diet pills!” XÅÍÎ

HANG 10 AT THE GREAT SALT LAKE

BY FABIAN RIGHTEOUS

When Frankie and Annette and the gang want to get together for some beach blanket bingo, they load up the woody with garbage cans full of wine coolers and head out on safari to the Great Salt Lake. Where else can you catch righteous surf and buckets of brine flies at the same time? The brine flies, of course, are a natural compliment to the wine coolers. And nachos without brine flies? Unthinkable.

The Great Salt Lake is actually Utah’s second-most identifiable tourist site, right behind Salt Lake City’s LDS Temple—another favorite surfing and party hangout for Frankie and Annette and the gang (see cover). If the surf isn’t up at the Temple—or if the security people have their undies in a knot—why not hang five at our great salten sea? Utah is really fortunate to have two main attractions like Temple Square and the Great Salt Lake. And from Temple Square, you can actually see the Kennecott Twin Towers that mark the location of the lake’s hallowed south shore, where surfing and the luau were practically invented. Jan and Dean, eat your hearts out. Don Ho? Just forget about it, baby.

Of course, things weren’t always like that at the lake, which in dinosaur times was called Lake Bonneville by locals. Twenty thousand years ago, it was four times the size it is now. Easily big enough for the Beach Boys to write a song about it back in their heyday, sometime around the Pleistocene. In those days, wooly mammoths roamed the beaches before everyone went punk.

But by the time Spanish priest and explorer Father Escalante arrived in 1776, the lake had shrunk to about the size it is today. Actually, Father Escalante never saw the Great Salt Lake, because he got tied up at a luau with the Timpanogos people who used to surf Utah Lake before white settlers jammed them up. It was actually Jim Bridger, the great trapper and fur trader, who first surfed the Great Salt Lake in 1825—even before the advent of the fiberglass board. Righteous, dude!

As everyone knows by now, everything changed when the Mormon settlers arrived in 1847 and Brigham Young proclaimed, “This is the lake!” The hot and thirsty pioneers bee-bopped down to the beach to cool off only to find that they were bobbing like corks in the undrinkable brine. That, apparently, is when they, too, switched to wine coolers.

The West was won and the Central Pacific Railroad met the Union Pacific at Promontory Point in 1869, where they drove a golden spike and introduced Utahns to Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, shipped by rail from Milwaukee. And except for the railroad causeway across the lake and Norm Bangerter’s goofy pumps that lay out in the middle of the desert in the event that Lake Bonneville and the Beach Boys should return, that is the story of our great lake. It is the biggest lake in the United States if you don’t count the real Great Lakes. And really, who does?

Once you get the Great Salt Lake in your blood, you can never get enough of it. That wonderful lake air in your nostrils—there’s just nothing like it on this Earth, with, perhaps, the exception of the county landfill. Like caviar, it takes a little getting used to, but once you develop a taste for lake stink, nothing else comes close. Frankie and Annette and the gang scarf it up.

But the brine flies and lake stink are only a small part of the ambience that makes the Great Salt Lake a one of a kind. No, the beach just wouldn’t be the same without the dust off the tailings across the freeway at Kennecott. It gets in your hair and in your teeth. It’s the kind of grit you can taste. When the surf is up—and when isn’t it?—it’s party time at the beach for the gang. So, grab your board and go Salt Lake surfin’ with us.XÅÍÎ

SUMMER CONCERTS 2001

by bill frost

JUNE

Saturday 9: KC & the Sunshine Band @ Silver Smith Beach. Florida disco kingpin puts on his orthopedic boogie shoes for a Wendover par-tay. (Stateline Casino, Wendover, Nev.; Smith’sTix)

Sunday 10: Bruce Hornsby @ Red Butte Garden. Range-free piano man spells out the way it is for the adult-contemporary demo. (300 Wakara Way, U of U Research Park; Ticketmaster)

Wednesday 13: Staind with Cold and Puddle of Mudd @ Saltair. Angsty grunge repackaged with mascara and tongue studs, striking fear ‘n’ giggles into the hearts of suburban moms. (I-80 West Exit 104; Smith’sTix)

Saturday 16: Second Annual Folk & Bluegrass Festival @ The Gallivan Center. The Blade Runners, Sam Hill, Mike Iverson & Bluegrass West, Prairie Dogs, Erica Wheeler, Anke Summerhill, Marv Hamilton and Jessie Thurgood jam in folk and/or bluegrass vernaculars. (239 S. Main; 339-SONG)

Saturday 16: Oldies Fest 2001 @ Franklin Covey Field. The Ohio Express, Andy Kim, Ron Dante (The Archies), Alan O’Day, Al Wilson, Bo Donaldson & the Heywoods, Yesterday (“A Tribute to the Beatles”), America and Johnny Rivers. Now you know where the name came from. (77 W. 1300 South; Smith’sTix)

Sunday 17: Keb’Mo’ @ Red Butte Garden. Radio-friendly roots-blues songsmith lays some spiritual slide-guitar licks on the Range Rover picnic crowd. (Ticketmaster)

Monday 18: Emmylou Harris @ Thanksgiving Point. Veteran silver-tressed country fox twangs sweetly in the Point’s scenic Waterfall Amphitheater. (3003 N. Thanksgiving Way, Lehi; Ticketmaster)

Saturday 23: Wasatch Arts & Music Unity Festival @ The Utah State Training School Amphitheater. Jamen Brooks, Sunfall Festival, Similar Opposition, the James Woods Band, Patrick Driscoll, the Stacey Board Band, Heedway

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