Forget letterman jackets—all the cool kids at The Bunkhouse Saloon Wednesday night were wearing marching band uniforms, and they didn’t even match.
Like a parade filled only with first-chair musicians who you really want to be friends with, “performance art marching band” Mucca Pazza burst onto the dirt patio, climbing over benches and hopping onto tables, filling the corner of 11th and Fremont streets with the most joyful sound it’s ever heard. And like hypnotized cattle, the crowd asked no questions as it followed the 30-something piece band into the dark saloon—except maybe, “What the hell did I just see?” and, “Wait, do I like marching-band music?”
If Bunkhouse wanted to start a “Tiny Stage” series (akin to National Public Radio’s “Tiny Desk” concert series), Mucca Pazza’s performance could’ve been opening night. Within inches of one another, the clarinetists, accordionists and percussionists all played with ease as they danced—and their fans danced, too.
With so much sauce accompanying every measure and weird joke, their ability to make hipsters want to listen to a saxophone makes sense. The music they create is the sexiest thing to happen to woodwinds since Kenny G.
The musicians, with the support of their caution-tape pom-pom cheerleaders, went out just like they came in: With a bang. Parading back outside, the band circled around its mesmerized audience to play one more—but a hundred wouldn’t have been enough.