It’s dark and nearing midnight in Denver. On the way into the city from the airport, the mountain air flows through the open windows of the taxi, fresh and crisp until we approach a long stretch of warehouses secured by barbed wire and topped with giant exhaust fans. My driver, a chubby man with glassy eyes, explains that the overwhelming weed smell now wafting through the car originates not from anything in his possession but rather in the industrialized growing operations that surround us and keep the city’s resident and visiting tokers handsomely stoned. At the dimly lit pizza bar the 30-something waitress with the same glassy eyes says she hasn’t heard of Haim, the band I’m in town to see, but that might have more to do with her, she concedes, as it was long ago when she stopped keeping up with the latest pop-music sensation.
I rent my desk space and electrical outlet for the price of a coffee cup and check in with the band’s Public Relations Brohani, a Brooklyn-based professional who, for the better part of