When I moved to Salt Lake City in 2001—away from the buzz and chaos of the Los Angeles music scene—I was seriously nervous. Would bands even stop here? Would I get the same rush of live shows I grew up on at Koo's Arts Cafe and The Glass House of the 90's?
When I was a teenager, music wasn't just something I listened to—it was the air I breathed. I was treated to something rare, like seeing Sublime and No Doubt before the world knew their names and catching Social Distortion heading to practice like it was just another day.
We were sweaty, wide-eyed kids in small venues, screaming every word like it was gospel. It shaped who I was.
Fast forward to now—and wow. Utah, you've blown me away. From the dreamy sunsets at Red Butte to the cozy vibes of The State Room, and from the lush hills of Sandy Amphitheater to the energy of Ogden Twilight, we are spoiled with beautiful venues and even better lineups.
This year? I'm over the moon for Lord Huron (they always show us love), Regina Spektor, The Head and the Heart, and the spellbinding Rhiannon Giddens are all on my calendar. And I know you Wilco, NIN, Hozier, Halsey, Modest Mouse, Tash Sultana, Gregory Alan Isakov, Alabama Shakes, DEVO, and Weezer fans are practically vibrating with anticipation.
The Utah Blues Fest is always circled (and starred) on my calendar—especially after catching some jaw-dropping sets in Chicago. And we definitely can't overlook our own homegrown talent—Michelle Moonshine, Talia Keys, Zaza Historia VanDyke, Fur Foxen and The Plastic Cherries (just to name a few) keep our local scene humming with soul and originality.
The pandemic stole a lot from us. But the silence of live music—that hurt in a way I didn't expect. No crowds, no sweaty joy, no soundwaves shaking our chests in unison. I did not realize how much my mental health would be affected. I'll never take that for granted again.
There's just something about live music, right? It reaches in, grabs our soul and says, "Hey—you're not alone." For a few glorious hours, we forget about bills, stress and the doomscroll.
It's magic. It's medicine. For some of us, it's spiritual. Lately, I've had "Arrow" by The Head and the Heart on repeat—it splits me open in ways not even therapy dares to reach.
In a world that feels more divided by the day, music slips past the noise and lands straight into the soul. It speaks every language, crosses every line and gathers us—strangers and friends—into one great, pulsing heartbeat.
No debate, no headlines, just rhythm and feeling. Just connection.
So thank you, Salt Lake. You didn't let me down. Let's crank the music up, sing loud, dance boldly and let it carry us through another unforgettable summer.