Would the weather put a wrench in things this year as it did last year? Would we get any sleep at the campground at all? Would Bjork live up to the hype? Would this be Patrick Wolf’s last show in the States ever? These were all questions on our mind as we readied ourselves for the 2007 Sasquatch Festival at the Gorge this last weekend. 

Obligatory Gorge Photo

Saturday

It seemed fitting that I should begin my Saturday morning where I left Sasquatch last, at the Yeti stage, the smallest stage of the festival. Last year I had been run out of the Gorge on Saturday by marble sized hail that fell for a good half an hour, during which the Constantines at the Yeti stage put on an unforgettable set. Completely disregarding the weather and possibly in some sick way feeding off of the uncomfortable situation, they hung from the rafters and were the soundtrack to the mayhem happening around them; people diving under picnic tables, running into porta-potties, and just running for any shelter they could find from the storm.  

This Saturday the weather was basically clear, and warm with no indication of a storm at all. The line to get searched and get in was long, and as a result we missed the Hold Steady. Next (and now first) on our schedule was The Blow, which currently is just Khaela sans Jona (aka YACHT), meaning was by herself Khaela with her beats programmed into her keyboard. She was quite a character, but I felt like she fell a bit flat with her non stop banter between songs and her loose singing. She was funny and her dancing was great, but the actual singing part wasn’t so great. I still like Paper Television anyway. Following that we headed up to check out Ozomatli at the mainstage for a while, who put on a energetic set that really got the crowd going. At the end they jumped into the front section and interacted with the crowd for a good ten minutes.

Neko Case was up next at the mainstage. Last year she had fallen victim to the hail having to stop her set, and this year had the misfortune of her bass player being in a car accident, so was without a bass. They did the best they could, but following a bassless, and hence completely unsatisfying, version of “Hold On, Hold On,” we decided to head up to the Wookie stage to get ready for Ghostland Observatory. We caught the final three songs of the scorching Electralane set, which made me feel like I had just missed something by not being there the whole time. 

Ghostland Observatory

Ghostland Observatory was unquestionably my favorite act of Saturday. Aaron’s swagger and intensity is consistently mind boggling and they always put on a great show. It was a comedy of errors from the beginning though when finally one of the comedian slash stage MC’s arrived and after missing his plane, and then proceeded to tell rape jokes. Awkward and not exactly kosher. People weren’t exactly pleased. When Ghostland was finally ready though the crowd forgot about it. In the middle of their set though, the power to the stage suddenly went out. After only a short wait, the sweaty dance party began again, with Aaron showing a renewed will to entertain.

We retreated to the back for the Grizzly Bear escape the stanky environs of the front rows and set to meet up with some people. While Grizzly Bear’s Neumos visit is definitely one of my top five sets of the year I have seen so far, this windy environment muffled much of their nuanced soundscapes in the back. Their layered voices cut through the wind though and at least that element of their performance translated well in the difficult setting. 

After taking in most of Grizzly Bear’s set, we headed over to see Seattle’s own Long Winters at the Mainstage, who were a last minute replacement for VISA troubled M.I.A. We love these guys, but the wind had begun to pick-up even more heavily on the mainstage side of the hill, dwarfing their music in the process. They sounded great, just small. On the other hand, up next was Manu Chao, whom I wasn’t familar with before this performance, but who put on the show of a lifetime. Probably the only act all weekend for whom the wind didn’t seem to affect their volume. The crowd was feeling it and the hippy dancing was out in full force on the lawn. Their set was long, but they were on fire so the wait for Arcade Fire wasn’t unbearable.

Once they had finally assembled their elaborate stage setup, The Arcade Fire appeared promptly and with flair. Their set was short, powerful and energetic, and the most interesting of the mainstage acts of the weekend with the various lighting effects. They didn’t have any banter at all with the exception of dedicating “Antichrist Television Blues” to “Jerry Fallwell, wherever the hell he is.” The lack of banter didn’t detract one bit though as the band filled up the stage and made the big amphitheatre seem smaller than it really was. Even so, I wish I had been closer.

Bjork came on after a protracted stage setup. Having never seen her before I was very interested in what all the hoopla was about. I’m not really a big Bjork fan in general, but appreciated that they had a great stage show. Bjork roamed all over the stage and seemed quite happy about everything. But for me, after about six songs, I felt underwhelmed and a few of us decided to beat the rush out the gates and left early. Our compatriots showed up at the campground only a few minutes after we did signalling that we didn’t miss too much.

The Campground …

As we returned to our campground spot and promptly finished a bottle of wine and opened another, a fellow camper stopped by our circle around the cooler. He was obviously hammered. His car was bumping loud music (you know, the late nineties top 40 BS) and had been since we arrived. He tries to make small talk by asking us what music we would want him to put on and relating how much he loved Interpol. He then in his stupor, realizes that we’re getting annoyed with his drunk ranting and tells us he is going to leave. Right then he proceeds to drop trough and show the world his jewels, giving a few pelvic thrusts for effect right in the face all of us. He then pulls up his pants and wanders off into the darkness, to light roman candles for the next hour. The moment it happened our entire car erupted in laughter, but Abbey’s comment said it all: “I hope he’s a grower and not a shower.” Indeed. Did I say I paid $40 for the privilege to camp? 

Sunday

We started our Sunday by managing to get through the search queue quickly (some more quickly than others) to catch The Blakes at the Yeti stage. A relatively small crowd had gathered for what turned out to be a pretty smokin set. The surly wind was blowing their rockstar-long hair in all the right ways, and these gents managed to deliver a polished set. Following that we headed up to the Wookie Stage to catch Earl Greyhound, whom I had caught a couple of songs of a set at SXSW and I had become interested. The Wookie stage had the distinction of being rectum-cripplingly loud for every act if you were anywhere close to the stage (I’m guessing because of the wind), and for Earl Greyhound, it didn’t do them any favors.

 
The Blakes                                                                  Patrick Wolf

I’d seen Patrick Wolf talked about quite a bit on Pitchfork and elsewhere, but hadn’t properly acqainted myself with his music. This show, the final of his American tour, bucked all expectations and ended up suprising me and everyone around me. I’d have to agree with Nilina that this was my favorite set of the festival. Wolf seemed happy, talkative and was really involving the crowd. He had all sorts of stories, and said that he would be back to the States in September. While I don’t understand his fashion choices, it was easy to be enthralled by his perfromance without being familiar with his music. 

Next we decided to escape the ear splitting house music between sets at the Wookie stage and headed over the the lawn and spread out in the sun. Money Mark was next at Wookie, but the wind had fully picked up by then, and we were too far away to properly listen to what I heard was a good set. What I could hear was good background napping music though.

Tokyo Police Club was the band that I most wanted to see on this Sunday. The wind had gained some legs and as a result had shut down the Polyphonic Spree in the middle of their set at the mainstage, causing everyone to head over our way. Tokyo Police Club commented that they were suprised that so many people came to see them, probably not knowing the other stage had shut down. They fought the wind hard as well, with just enough of the high notes their synth punk able to cut through to make it work, but not enough to make it as exciting as their EP communicates. I decided that I needed to see this band in a small club.

By the end of their set the wind was peaking and everyone was in line to buy a hoody or a jumper to stay warm, and this is the moment where things broke down for our party. While the mainstage was closed due to the gusts, they kept telling us that everyone would still be playing. Despite being a completely sunny day, the wind was making things unbearably cold, and the promise of another six hours weathering it wasn’t pleasant, so our party split up and we headed home. The rest of our party related that we may have made the right choice by leaving as the Interpol set was a measly 25 minutes and Michael Franti was moved to a different stage altogether and started an hour late anyway, causing all of those fans to miss the Beastie Boys. Lame.

My Final Thoughts 

Once again, Mother Nature disabuses us of any notion that we can just go about our merry way and enjoy a show at the Gorge. Saturday was great, Sunday started out stellar, but was thwarted mid-way through, once again by the weather. This Sasquatch, with a great lineup, left me a bit disgruntled because I wasn’t able to properly enjoy all of these great bands. Nobody could help it, it just happened. Just the same, I think I might be sticking to small venues for a while. This is just too much money to spend to be disappointed on the way home.