If you wondered about that drummer you saw when you were stuck in rush hour on a recent Wednesday, absolutely slaying his kit beneath the I-25/I-70 interchange, then this story is for you.
His name is Alec Sturdy. He likes to play fast and loud. And he likes an audience. After work, on short notice, those drivers stuck in their cars can be just what he needs.
"No one's paying me to be there, but people are still watching," he told us. "People are honking their horns. They're waving. They're saying 'What's up?' They're taking videos. That's cool if I give them something to do during their commute."
It turns out the highway is a good place to practice.
Sturdy moved to Denver in 2019. He'd been working "safe" corporate jobs in the Midwest, but he was getting antsy and moved his career into restaurants.
"What I wanted to do was something that made me feel engaged, focused, fast-paced. And I always knew anything less than that, I wouldn't be able to settle for," he said. "That's why I like bars. That's why I like kitchens."
And that's why he likes drums.
He started learning to play when he was 18, but it wasn't until COVID shut down his three service-industry jobs that he really dove in. There was suddenly so much time to fill, and existential stress to work through.
"Drums was just this perfect rabbit hole to go down," he recalled. "I can feel it can consume my whole life."
So he started playing at Denver's downtown skatepark and busking in LoDo. His technique improved as his exploration of this rabbit hole branched into different styles, speeds and genres.
Most people - like "95%," he said - love what he lays down. It's usually pretty heavy.
He said he once got praise from baseball hero David Ortiz, who stumbled upon his drum kit on his way out of downtown's National Ballpark Museum.
"He's like, 'That's crazy, man.' He shook my hand. His hands are so big, his middle finger hit my elbow," Sturdy joked.
But not everyone has reacted so positively. Sturdy said a guy who lived near the Little Raven skatepark once showed up, angry at the noise.
"This guy comes over, kicks my hi-hat stand and breaks it," he remembered. "Then he pulls a gun on me."
Though some aren't into his obsession, he said playing in front of people - and possibly in a place where he won't upset his neighbors - is part of his growth right now. He sees drumming as a workout, for both mind and body. And he wants to start a band, so places like the I-70 interchange help get him used to hundreds of watching strangers.
"In my head, I've got to focus. I can't get caught up. And it's like 95 degrees, so I gotta work on my breath. I gotta work on playing these fast, 190, 200 beats per minute," he said. "I don't want to piss anyone off. I just want to be out. Make as much noise as possible. Work on those techniques."
He's not playing songs, necessarily. Instead, a metronome plays (very quickly) in his ear, and he usually just riffs.
Last week was the second in a row he played at the interchange, known locally as the "mousetrap." Someone caught him on video during his first visit there, making him a little internet famous.
Playing in public is appealing for deeper reasons, too.
On his second trip to the mousetrap, Sturdy hung a giant blanket over his car, emblazoned with the words "Molested Air." It's what he wants to call his band.
Yes, he said, the name is related to this place, a nexus of polluting cars that have disproportionately impacted Globeville and Elyria Swansea for half a century.
"Air quality, yeah. When the Rockies are burning, when Canada is burning, that affects everybody," he said. "Molested Air is also what it feels like when I'm playing like 200 bpm for a minute and a half, two minutes. It feels like my muscles and my skin are sucking into my body, like everything starts to become tight and the air that I'm breathing, it's no longer satisfying. I feel like I'm choking, but in my head, I've got to stay poised."
The name also gets at how he views society. Sturdy said he grew up in a religious community, and he's worked to separate himself from religion's politics and problems without forgetting his own spirituality.
"Have you ever gone out and sought out something that are more impactful and deep than just yourself? For me, drumming is that, music is that. It gives me direct access to something that's way larger than myself," he said.
Similarly, he sees so much money and marketing hovering over our world, distracting us from our connections to each other, and tainting our air.
"I want to be a human being. I want to express myself. I'm not trying to sell anybody anything. If you have a passion, OK, push forward and do it. Because you don't know what crazy good s*** could come out of that. You don't know who you could meet. You don't know who you could help. You don't know who you could inspire," he told us. "It's about: Live your life. Make yourself happy. Make those around you happy, to see you happy and thriving. And f*** the bulls***. F*** all these airwaves of people trying to sell you something or join their team."
In a world still beset by existential dread -- climate change, gun violence, homelessness -- he wants to hone his craft and give people something to smile at. He can do it without money on the side of the highway.
But Sturdy does want to land himself in more regular venues, eventually. He wants Molested Air on a stage.
"I'm just trying to get the word out. I'm trying to meet the right people. I'm trying to meet a crazy frontman who wants to scream his head off. I want to make some heavy s***, man," he said. "The main thing I want to do is start playing shows and making mosh pits and making kids go crazy, and creating spaces for people to let their anger out. Let their aggression out. That's what hardcore shows were, but it has to be a positive meaning."
