Mark Ol­son

Sunday Star-Times - - ESCAPE -

Spokes­woman of the Bright Sun (South­bound)

Moab, Utah, late Au­gust, 1995: it’s Sun­day night open mic at The Third Eye, Moab’s new-age heal­ing cen­tre/cafe. In­side, a few peo­ple lounge around on beaten up chairs, while the smell of in­cense – and, waft­ing from out­side, weed – hangs in the air. The lights are dimmed. Af­ter a pas­sion­ate cover of Re­demp­tion Song kicks the night off, Mark Ol­son and his wife In­gunn Ringvold am­ble up to the stage. They sit down. Ol­son tunes his beaten-up gui­tar. ‘‘Hey, Ing,’’ he says, turn­ing to Ringvold. ‘‘What shall we, uh, play?’’ Ringvold stares at the ceil­ing. ‘‘I don’t know, man’’ she says. ‘‘Why don’t we, like, make up some­thing about love and spir­i­tu­al­ity and, uh, tea dates?’’ Ol­son smiles. ‘‘Sounds great,’’ he says. And an al­bum was born. Jack Bar­low

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