Oh. My. Amy.

February 5, 1:02 PMDenver Live Music ExaminerWilliam Jiles

Previous

Comment Print Email RSS Subscribe

Subscribe

Get alerts when there is a new article from the Denver Live Music Examiner. Read Examiner.com's terms of use.

Email Address   Include other special offers from Examiner.com Terms of Use

Since my best friend Avalon's newest purchase of a 1990 VW Vanagon, we've both been looking for any excuse to hit the road with a box full of mixed cassette tapes, a handwoven Native American blanket, and the open road laid out before us. We were thinking there are at least two Canadian Providences with our names written all over them, just waiting to be taken over by bad jokes and my terrible hair. And until a few days ago, it appeared Canada was our best bet. But then ...
 
I received an email the other day that directed me to the Coachella website. Coachella is a three day massive music festival in the deepest desert in California. I tend to steer away from the thought of this festival for the sole reason that it is way too expensive as well as being buried far too deep in Cali and I usually only want to see one or two bands. From what I've heard, and the pictures I've seen, this gathering is full of weird people and so crowded that I would be watching Cat Power from on top of a Winnebago half a mile from the stage, covered in pot smoke and cheap beaded handicrafts. Basically, the cons definitely have outweighed the pros. Until this year.
 
Queen Amy Winehouse is scheduled to play at Coachella on Saturday April 17th 2009. Naturally, both Avalon and I suffered a series of small strokes and after regaining our facial control, we began to sob tears of angels. Nuns, priests and other clergymen have reported experiencing extreme medical miracles after being touched by God. I can now say, I know exactly how they feel. After hearing the news of the Virgin Amy, I have needed to pee an ungodly amount at least twice per Amy thought. 
 
I figured my wayward dreams of Amy in a cage and me feeding her after the completion of every song she sang, was just that, a silly, silly dream. For months Amy and I were the prisoners of our country, trapped on pending drug charges. Then suddenly, Amy was released to a tropical resort where she's been staying for months saving tourists from poisonous foliage and drowning. All while dressed like a prepubescent boy from "Happy Days". However, it looks like a good majority of my prayers have somehow been answered despite all the mean things I write, say and do. I'm giving all the credit to the fact that I helped a wheel chair bound, toothless woman determine which can of canned crab was the best value while cruising the aisles at King Sooper's yesterday. 
 
"Amy is great, Amy is good. Let us thank Her for our food." That's just a little thing I came up with and despite how horribly sacrilegious it is, I find it helps me through my day and to appreciate every meal I have, knowing that somewhere in the Caribbean Amy has given hers up for some low-grade, overpriced street drugs.