A Night at Red Butte

We've been going to Red Butte for years, and I still can't think of a better place to hear live music. Not in Utah, and honestly not in most of the country. It's a botanical garden tucked into the foothills above the University of Utah, and on summer evenings its amphitheater becomes the best seat in the valley.

Part of it is the scale. The lawn holds a few thousand, not tens of thousands, so even the biggest acts feel close. You bring a blanket and a picnic, find a spot on the grass, and the city falls away below you. Part of it is the timing. The shows begin while the sun is still on the Wasatch peaks and end under the stars, the temperature dropping just enough that everyone reaches for a layer at the same moment. And part of it is simply the garden: you walk in past the roses and the water and the smell of warm sage, and you've half-forgotten whatever kind of day you had.

What I love most is that it's ours. Red Butte isn't a secret, exactly, but it's a local institution in the best sense, the kind of place season-ticket holders plan their summers around. The lineup runs all season, the crowd is easy, and the setting does half the work no matter who's on stage.

It's also a quiet argument for the east bench. From the neighborhoods up against the foothills (Federal Heights, the Avenues), a night at Red Butte is nearly a walk, and the same canyons that hold the garden hold the trails you'd hike the next morning. That's the thing about this side of the valley, the good stuff is close and it's the kind you don't outgrow.

If you've never been, go this summer. Bring good company and a bottle of something. And if you ever find yourself wondering what it would be like to live ten minutes from it, I know a few streets worth a look.

— Jamuna