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| - The Railhead hosts a steady calendar of live music (and, for a brief but memorable time, the Boulder Station buffet while it was being refurbished), but the shows I've been attending at the Railhead for the past six years fall under the "classic" category. You may also know them as "Those Bands That Used to Pack the Stadiums, or At Least Opened for Those Who Did."
Blue Oyster Cult. John Waite. Howard Jones. Okay, I walked out of Howard Jones. All acoustic? Seriously? Also, the guy in seat behind me whispered that he was going to kill me. Doesn't really go with "Like to Get To Know You Well." But that's an anomaly for the Railhead crowd, which I'd classify as "politely but sincerely enthusiastic and not afraid to fist-pump or dance, but also self-conscious enough to sit down when everyone else does so." Usually. But death threats, definitely a one-off, don't let that scare you.
Not everyone has the same wishlist when it comes to venues. Some people want to be able to rush the stage. Even when it means squeezing in front of those who paid handsomely for front-row seats, even if it's only three or four people doing this and not a culpability-burying throng. (I think you're getting an inkling into my curmudgeon ways.) Some venues are okay with that. (Hilton. Grrr.) At the Railhead, they'll let you headbang enough for the moment of passion to pass, but then a polite hand on the arm will remind you that if you wanted it, you should've put a Visa card on some Section A seats.
The ushers are also good about photography. Look, I'll cop to having a few shaky hand-cam videos on YouTube, ones the artist didn't specifically allow. But they're terrible. Why? Because I covered the LCD screen so it wouldn't bother anyone else in the audience. I don't care if you're texting in your lap, but surely I'm not the only person to have to stand behind someone with their cellphone raised, and raised, and raised, and raised, up and down throughout the show, the record The Moment. At the Railhead, the ushers will warn you, and you're the kind of entitled person who has to start doing it again after they leave, the ushers will come back and stand there. Essentially, babysitting you. Because you're a baby. Stop being babies, people.
(I'm going to scratch "use review as vehicle for related rants" off my To Do list now. Thanks!)
But what about the sound? The seats? The drink service? The feel?
The Railhead is one of those "not a bad seat in the house" places. You'll get a good view (the screens to each side of the stage are hardly necessary but a nice touch for close-ups) and the sound is consistent throughout the house. (Sometimes a little muddy if you're close, but that's probably a band/equipment issue.)
The seats themselves... well, I wish they hadn't started locking them together. I know it makes for easier set-up/clean-up and a uniform look, but my fave trick was to get an end seat and move it juuuuust an inch or so over. Especially if my husband and I got two end seats near the wall. We'd move both seats closer to the wall, not taking up any of the aisle, not bothering anyone, and in fact, giving the next guy over a little more arm room. It's just part of the Fatty Code of Kindness. (So let's not talk about the time I optimistically grabbed front-row center seats for BOC and ended up squished between my husband and, I'm pretty sure, a Samoan wrestler. I did my best, but you can't suck in your thighs.) Still, these rather generic folding chairs are comfortable, even if we chubby types have to go for the end spots.
Drink servers usually cover the room well, dipping unobstrusively so as not to block the stage, but the bar is a hop and skip to the corner of the room if you want to stretch.
Four stars for good sound in an intimate venue where this 41-year-old can sit (almost) comfortably while screaming "GODZILLA!"
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