Obscure Allure- Keeping Traditional Printmaking Real and Relevant
“I’ve always had music.” Stephen Crawford tells me. He’s standing before a neatly-stacked wall of plastic jewel cases. It’s his monument: a trophy case of EPs, albums, and mixtapes from every player and performer that’s set foot in Del Norte’s Wildwood Sounds over the years. “Music has always been my vibe,” he grins, through a long white beard that runs down his chest.
Konnie Martin is beside him. A glimmer crowds her eye as she recounts her own relationship with music: Her high school casting as Graziella in West Side Story, or her time in the church choir. Or falling in love with Stephen, all those years ago, sitting in the sun outside his woodshop and strumming out chords on an acoustic guitar.
For Stephen and Konnie, opening a rural music venue was never a part of the plan. In the beginning, it was just casual jam with another couple from town. But it quickly evolved into a regular event, drawing as many as 30 people on some nights, sharing songs, banging on drums, building themselves into a community of small town music lovers who had no other place to get their fix.
So they started booking shows.
20 years later, Konnie still seems surprised by it: “All of a sudden, there it was. Our way to keep enjoying music while also giving something to our community.”
It’s easy to see why people like playing here. The room is small, but not cramped. The acoustics are tight. Five rows of vintage theater seats are laid out in brief ranks before a modest hardwood stage. The vibe is relaxed, and warm, something you might call ‘high desert bungalow’. The place is ornamented with ravens, etched subtly into the woodwork or hanging on painted canvas. It’s a small joint for a small town … The type of town that Condé Nast Traveler can call “sleepy” and “latest corner of cool” in the same breath.
Neither descriptor would be wrong when it comes to Del Norte. Neither is entirely correct, either.
On a typical night, the Wildwood stage might be occupied by one of the valley’s hyper-local bands, like the Alamosa oldies / rock outfit Blue Sky. Other nights hosted front-range familiars like Taarka, Pete Kartsounes, and Bonnie and the Clydes. Shows like these draw loyalists from as far away as Denver and Albuquerque, and can sell out weeks in advance.
With 50-some-odd seats, there’s a hard limit to the type of band that can make a Wildwood booking work. But for the independent highway musician, gigging their way across the American southwest to the more active scenes of Denver, Durango, and Austin, a venue like this is an invaluable opportunity to hone an act, stay sharp, or just keep the gas tank full.
“It’s not like we’re going to pack the house every time.” Stephen says. “But musicians love playing here.”
No longer the only game in town, Wildwood faces new complications that have made it more difficult to get by. Weathering the pandemic was one thing, a trial that claimed victory over a number of independent venues across the country. Now, the challenge for Stephen and Konnie is re-emerging into a changed rural landscape, where front range transplants have brought new faces, investments, and sounds into a valley that once was a little more quiet.
“I’ve always had music.” Stephen Crawford tells me. He’s standing before a neatly-stacked wall of plastic jewel cases. It’s his monument: a trophy case of EPs, albums, and mixtapes from every player and performer that’s set foot in Del Norte’s Wildwood Sounds over the years. “Music has always been my vibe,” he grins, through a long white beard that runs down his chest.
Konnie Martin is beside him. A glimmer crowds her eye as she recounts her own relationship with music: Her high school casting as Graziella in West Side Story, or her time in the church choir. Or falling in love with Stephen, all those years ago, sitting in the sun outside his woodshop and strumming out chords on an acoustic guitar.
For Stephen and Konnie, opening a rural music venue was never a part of the plan. In the beginning, it was just casual jam with another couple from town. But it quickly evolved into a regular event, drawing as many as 30 people on some nights, sharing songs, banging on drums, building themselves into a community of small town music lovers who had no other place to get their fix.
So they started booking shows.
20 years later, Konnie still seems surprised by it: “All of a sudden, there it was. Our way to keep enjoying music while also giving something to our community.”
It’s easy to see why people like playing here. The room is small, but not cramped. The acoustics are tight. Five rows of vintage theater seats are laid out in brief ranks before a modest hardwood stage. The vibe is relaxed, and warm, something you might call ‘high desert bungalow’. The place is ornamented with ravens, etched subtly into the woodwork or hanging on painted canvas. It’s a small joint for a small town … The type of town that Condé Nast Traveler can call “sleepy” and “latest corner of cool” in the same breath.
Neither descriptor would be wrong when it comes to Del Norte. Neither is entirely correct, either.
On a typical night, the Wildwood stage might be occupied by one of the valley’s hyper-local bands, like the Alamosa oldies / rock outfit Blue Sky. Other nights hosted front-range familiars like Taarka, Pete Kartsounes, and Bonnie and the Clydes. Shows like these draw loyalists from as far away as Denver and Albuquerque, and can sell out weeks in advance.
With 50-some-odd seats, there’s a hard limit to the type of band that can make a Wildwood booking work. But for the independent highway musician, gigging their way across the American southwest to the more active scenes of Denver, Durango, and Austin, a venue like this is an invaluable opportunity to hone an act, stay sharp, or just keep the gas tank full.
“It’s not like we’re going to pack the house every time.” Stephen says. “But musicians love playing here.”
No longer the only game in town, Wildwood faces new complications that have made it more difficult to get by. Weathering the pandemic was one thing, a trial that claimed victory over a number of independent venues across the country. Now, the challenge for Stephen and Konnie is re-emerging into a changed rural landscape, where front range transplants have brought new faces, investments, and sounds into a valley that once was a little more quiet.
These days, it’s not difficult to find some live music in Del Norte. On a given Thursday, for example, you could find yourself walking into three no-cost shows: One at the farmer’s market, one at the town’s music in the park series, and another at the Windsor Hotel or the brand new micro distillery.