The author with his hip-hop idol, The Grouch Heroes in our dope city

So much of life is perspective. Some people are a downer, even to talk to for five minutes; the ones you turn your head from and avoid in the grocery store; those who are convinced that life is a bore, and everything is doomed. Then there are those people who you seek out, who lift you up, who achieve their own potential and radiate positive energy that is incredibly infectious; the lights of the world.

When I moved down to Durango, I was in danger of becoming the former of those people I just described. In part, because I achieved a goal: I was a paid writer with a 9-5 that had all the benefits we Americans want with our jobs. This achievement trained me well as a writer, but I was selling my talent. The stories I wrote were scripted, public-relations material written in a voice that was not my own. I desperately wanted to achieve my potential in writing, and I was learning it’s not a one-way road, there would be many twists and turns.

The Durango Telegraph was my first writing gig in this fine town, and it has been good to me, starting with my very first story. I wrote about a Paradox Sports event at the Ouray Ice Park dubbed, at the time, “Gimps on Ice.” It was a punchy name to describe an ice climbing festival for disabled and amputee climbers. The inspiration meter was off the hook, and I met many people that weekend who remain dear friends. Ice climbing is crazy enough, but to experience 20-plus people climbing ice who were missing arms and legs, well, there was a certain level of enthusiasm that infected every cell of my being; a sign from the heavens I was on the right path. Yes, this would be a good gig.

Four years later, the Telegraph handed me another little nugget: I got to interview The Grouch and Eligh (G&E), two underground kings of hip-hop who played at the Animas City Theatre last week. I’ve always loved The Grouch, his simple, articulate, philosophical style is a refreshing breath of air in an often talent-lacking saturated genre. When I learned I would get to do a phone interview with him, I got nervous. I mean how often do you get to talk to one of your heroes on the phone?

I first heard about The Grouch through a collaborative album he did with Zion I, called “Heroes in the City of Dope.” He rapped about yoga, world travel, eating well, being an independent artist, exercise, his wife, and his newborn child. It was uplifting and poetic. I played the record over and over again. Inspiration times a million.

So when I called up The Grouch two weeks ago for the phone interview, I was giddy, like I was calling a beautiful woman for the first time. Should I call him by his real name? Or do I say, “Is The Grouch there?” Does that sound weird? Stop having weird thoughts, dude, just be cool. You can do this.

For the first minute of our conversation, I fumbled with my words, while I tried to tell him how much of a fan I was. He was humble and appreciative, and I took a couple deep breaths, while I regained my composure. During the interview, he explained his history with hip hop, and how he was a longtime independent artist who used to dub his own tapes and make CD covers at Kinko’s. The Grouch also explained while growing up in the early 1990s – the golden age of hip hop, just before the art was hijacked by gangsters and big business – that it was important for a rapper to be smart. Or in the words of the culture, “droppin’ science and kickin’ jewels.”

The Grouch was patient, friendly and more than willing to speak to a reporter from a small town independent paper, like yours truly. After the conversation, I was charged with energy. They say never meet your heroes, but when you get to talk to a guy like The Grouch you realize, some heroes you should absolutely meet.

Then came the day of the show. When I woke up that morning, I was ready to be disappointed. I’d been listening to The Grouch and Eligh’s new triple album, “The Tortoise and The Crow,” and was in love with it, my favorite new music of the year, hands down. Their style and abilities have only been growing over the years, and musically and artistically these guys are peaking. To hope that their live show could equal such brilliance would be ludacris (cultural pun intended).

We tried to time our arrival so that we would miss some of the opening acts. The culture of hip hop has a strange phenomenon that there has to be so many opening acts that the main act doesn’t even go on until 12:30 in the morning. At 12:30, I’m usually in my REM cycle, dreaming about kittens and nude beaches. (Separately, of course.)

Talking to my friends I went to the show with, I was blown away that they all had to work the next day. Work? After staying up until 3 o’clock in the morning? Shit, I cleared my schedule for the next two days, just so I could recover. At 36, a night on the town is a sure recipe that the next day is spent drinking Emergencies, watching Netflix and holding my aching head while saying to myself, “Why, momma, why, did I go out last night?!?”

In short, the show was a disappointment, but only in the sense that I wanted G&E to keep playing for another two hours. Their show was just over an hour, almost the same length as the opening act, another phenomenon in hip-hop I’ll never understand. And while the opening act did the usual Colorado, “So who here loves to smoke weed?” thing like 10 times, G&E were classy. They played their down-to-earth songs, and the vibe ranged from whompy party music to the soulful hip-hop vibe they are known for. To top it off, I got to give The Grouch a handshake and a hug, and he even obliged for a photo.

Three days later and finally recovered, I got to check out The Living Yoga Project. I love yoga as much as hip-hop, and this all-local performance absolutely blew my mind, and left me inspired. The combination of yoga, dance, music and – dare I say – a dash of breakdancing carried me from smiles to tears. I was blown away by the turnout, nearly packing the theatre at the Smiley Building, especially considering they had two additional performances that weekend. Like G&E, I could have watched these folks perform for another hour or two.

With such an awesome experience from these two events right here at home, I was reminded of an old truth in art, leave the audience wanting more. Always leave them wanting more.

– Luke Mehall On Twitter at @LMehallWriter

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