grammy

Nick Urata may not have wings sprouting out of his back or a cloth diaper covering his junk, but that doesn't mean he isn't a modern embodiment of the arrow-slinging cherub. Hopped up on human growth hormone. And with a flamenco-leaning axe and soaring pipes in place of the bow. Urata and his melodic co-conspirators in Devotchka—filling The Fillmore with amour February 12—have been sound-tracking Denver area devotees' V-Days for the better part of a decade.