The Extraordinary Journey of a Concert Grand
How do you transport an 800-pound Steinway & Sons piano onto the Colorado River? For the dedicated crew of the Moab Music Festival, it’s a finely tuned logistical art honed over 33 years. Early mornings see a U-Haul backed down a ramp, its precious cargo—the piano, affectionately named Sandy—along with tables, toilets, tools, and a hundred camping chairs, loaded onto jet boats. The instrument rests awkwardly on its side, carefully secured for its journey into the canyons.
Production and operations director Michael Edwards dismisses it as “no big deal.” Yet, this seemingly routine task is a testament to the festival’s unique commitment to its spectacular desert setting.
Music Carved by Nature, Shaped by Climate
The Colorado River, the lifeblood and dramatic backdrop of the festival, has changed. Where once the piano could simply roll off the boat onto the shore, recent years of drought and misuse have lowered water levels dramatically. Last year, the crew built a 24-foot bridge to span newly exposed sandbars and overcome flash flood damage. This year, an intricate series of ramps was needed to haul Sandy several feet up to the trail, through dense shrubbery, and into its shaded concert hall within the grotto—a towering, naturally carved amphitheater.
The illusion is so perfect that by the time audiences arrive, the piano appears to be another natural wonder of the landscape. And indeed, the setting provides some of the purest, most intense listening experiences imaginable. There’s no cell service, no urban distractions, just crystal-clear acoustics. Hearing a string quartet tear into Schubert’s “Death and the Maiden” in this grotto is an overwhelming, unforgettable experience.
An Unforgettable Harmony of Sight and Sound
The Moab Music Festival truly delivers on its promise of “music in concert with the landscape.” The performances unfold in a breathtaking array of spaces:
- Floating concerts on the river, featuring artists like guitarist Frank Vignola and violinist Tessa Lark, with cliffs soaring on either side.
- Duets for steel pan and marimba by Andy Akiho and Ian Rosenbaum as the sun sets and the moon rises at the Red Earth Venue.
- Music hikes that lead audiences to a performance of Telemann’s compositions.
- Trio performances by Lark, cellist Joshua Roman, and bassist Edgar Meyer at private ranches, often followed by fireworks.
- Stunning mandolin virtuosity by bluegrass artist Sierra Hull amidst majestic buttes and imposing gorges.
And yes, that Steinway piano often becomes the centerpiece for Mendelssohn and other classical works, its notes echoing through the ancient grotto.
A Profound Connection, a Lingering Concern
Beyond the sheer beauty, there’s a deeper, more poignant layer to the Moab Music Festival experience. It stems from a quiet apprehension that such unique events might not always be possible. The Colorado River, while the festival’s muse, is also a stark reminder of environmental vulnerability. Its dwindling flow, a consequence of drought and overuse amplified by climate change, casts a shadow over the performances.
River guide and conservationist John Weisheit, executive director of the Living Rivers group, emphasizes that the river’s crisis is not just about melting snow and groundwater, but a powerful parable about human behavior and our treatment of precious resources. Amidst this serious context, the festival manages to find and share profound joy.
A Legacy of Innovation, A Future of Freedom
The Moab festival was founded in 1991 by pianist and conductor Michael Barrett and violist Leslie Tomkins. Tomkins recalls that the combination of chamber music and the rugged rocks felt like an “insane idea” that profoundly resonated with them. Over the decades, Moab transitioned from a quiet uranium mining town to a bustling tourist destination, and musicians, drawn by the festival’s unique allure, continue to perform.
As cellist Jay Campbell noted, the festival attracts artists willing to “endure some of the unusual conditions,” preferring the desert’s dry air over a rainforest’s humidity for their valuable instruments. Violinist Kristen Lee affirmed that “sand can come out, but water can really damage.”
Tessa Lark, a festival regular since 2016, took over as artistic director this year. She celebrates the “freedom that’s here,” describing the festival as a “blank slate” ready for new directions, possibly embracing its wilder, more experimental side—a nod to past composers-in-residence like the maverick Lou Harrison.
The possibilities for the Moab Music Festival seem boundless, limited only by the necessary permits. As long as that intrepid piano can continue its journey down the river, the harmonious blend of extraordinary music and unparalleled natural beauty will undoubtedly persist.