New Pornographers ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

The final day of multi-day events are always the hardest. You wake up tired from not sleeping in your own bed, hungry for a real meal, and somewhat skeptical of your ability to make the most of your ticket price. In fact, loud music is about the last thing you want to experience with a killer hangover. And the looming drive back home is always to be considered. At this point though, lasting through the entire is a badge of honor. Exhaustion be damned.

Mayer Hawthorne eased us into our Monday afternoon at the mainstage, a sweet musical start from the DJ turned soul revivalist. His entire hour feels like a greatest hits set from the Motown era in performance and style. Barsuk Records’ Phantogram was one of the few bands I’ve been itching to see live, and they proved their chops, coming out sounding just as good overlooking the windswept Gorge as on record.

Now that I’ve heard the Seattle Rock Orchestra doing Arcade Fire, I’m afraid even the Arcade Fire will now sound hollow. With help from an energized Kaylee Cole, The Head and the Heart’s Josiah Johnson, Hooves and Beak’s Whitney Flinn, and Shenandoah Davis, more than a few unsuspecting festival goers were heard pleasantly bewildered that they’d thought it was actually the Arcade Fire. Even if it wasn’t the real thing, the steadily growing crowd sang along all the same.

Once 5 o’clock rolled around, it was time to rock. The pair of bands scheduled to close the smallest stage were more than the pair of allocated security persons were bargaining for. Or rather the feverish front row of full service festival goers were more than they’d bargained for. From the very beginning of Japandroids’ spirited set, it was clear that the flimsy barrier in place wasn’t going to cut it. Reinforcements came, only to be unworthy of the task, so even more were called in. The funny thing of it was, probably only 50 people max were making all the ruckus, causing seven security guards to sweat.

The crowd wasn’t the only drama of the Japandroids’ Sasquatch set. The band was barely able to play, and yet were determined to take the stage because they had had to cancel their Sasquatch set last year. This year they were contending with a return trip from Europe, during the course of which a certain airline mis-routed their instruments. For a band who has an extensive amp and drum setup this curveball wasn’t trivial, but with the help of friends they ended up playing the set with borrowed instruments. And despite taking the stage in less than great moods, the it ended up being a rewarding and memorable appearance. If anything the heightened emotions on display gave their set a needed edge I missed last time they swung through town.

No Age who followed actually ended up being louder than Japandroids (which I didn’t expect) and put to shame my expectations for what kind of band they were. The three piece churned out a set that was loud but also musical. Indie-rockish even. For some reason I thought they were basically another Wavves. I hadn’t envisioned them as any thing more than loosely melodic noise and I was instead struck by how modern and not at all arbitrary the music was. It was music! My bad.

Though I may not find the newest album by Band of Horses as compelling as their previous two records, the Ben Bridwell led live show is without a doubt made for the mainstage. Bridwell is a man of big motions and big emotions, almost as if he was naturally suited for that kind of attention. And in the context of rest of BOH’s catalog, no matter how much I or anyone else might hate, the new songs fit right in with the old favorites.

With the three hour drive ahead of us, New Pornographers were decided as our final band of the weekend. The pink dusk washed the Canadian mega-group in the best natural light of the three days, a companion glow to the shimmering upbeat harmonies of a band that should’ve probably been given the honor of a mainstage spot. When thinking about significant bands from the last decade who are in their own class and will be remembered, the New Pornographers quickly come to mind. I’m never disappointed to see a set of theirs.

As we chased the pink sun west, looking forward to the embrace of our own decrepit but familiar beds, I was surprised to admit that this edition of Sasquatch! was one of the most memorable festival experiences I’ve had, in an almost completely positive way. With great talent pulling together quality performances, good interactions with just about everyone we encountered, and threatening but ultimately acceptable weather, 2010’s Sasquatch will be remembered for more than a hailstorm or a windstorm making everyone miserable.

It will be remembered for Public Enemy being too much of a group for the “Solar Stage” and overloading the speakers. It will be remembered for Vampire Weekend owning the mainstage and starting a dance party, signaling a fulfillment of hype. It will be remembered for the National right before them, finally getting their chance at the Gorge mainstage and doing the same in their own way. It will be remembered for the young man who decided to propose to his girlfriend on stage during Fresh Espresso’s set, right before “Bitches I Have Come Here For My Money.” And we will never forget seeing the Local Natives perform to thousands just a year after the performed for us and a handful of people in Seattle. A three day music festival may be exhausting, but when it is as good as Sasquatch 2010 was, every ache and missed hour of sleep is well worth it.

Band of Horses ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Dr. Dog ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Sasquatch! ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

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The Local Natives ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

An early time slot didn’t seem to the hurt the turnout for the Local Natives once set time finally did come around at one-thirty. They walked on stage to a fully packed upper field, bettering the capacity of larger more established acts who played that same stage later in the day. As the band’s first fest of the year, and maybe the first inclusion in a fest of this magnitude, is was a surprise. In conversation later, bassist Andy admitted he would have been happy with a half full field, but coming out and seeing the dense crowd made him nervous, in a good way. If the others were feeling pressure it wasn’t apparent, they sounded as tight as I’ve heard in the last year.

I’m glad I can say this, because I’ll file guilty on the charge of shamelessly pimping this band to anyone and everyone. If they’d sucked, my ego would’ve gone in the shitter, never to pimp a band so hard again. The reactions afterward was probably the best part of the day though, of hearing random people talking to each other about their favorites of the fest, and the countless reactions being how the Local Natives topped their list. Of talking with a band member on the side of the stage, and groups of kids coming up for autographs, asking to sign body parts and shirts. They didn’t need me to tell them the Local Natives were the best set of the day. It was obvious to them. And as the day wound down, it became obvious to me to that the Local Natives were in fact the best set of the day I saw, a pleasant realization but not at all a surprise.

More big stages and larger crowds is what’s ahead for the Local Natives this year. Bonnaroo. Pitchfork. Reading. Leeds. A headlining U.S. tour in September. Austin City Limits. And they obviously couldn’t be more ready.

The Local Natives ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

The Local Natives ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

The Local Natives ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

Girls ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

It wasn’t the early bird who got the worm when it came to Sasquatch. No, the Sasquatch early birds got 8-hour traffic back-ups, while people like me, who made our way east on Sunday morning, got to The Gorge in record time.  It was one of the many counter-intuitive surprises that marked Sunday at Sasquatch: the buzz bands lived up to their hype, intimate electronic songs worked beautifully in the wide-open space and the Tallest Man on Earth turned out to be just about my height.

It came as no surprise to me that The Local Natives, who ended up being the first act on the Bigfoot Stage,  played to a packed and appreciative crowd. Just over a year ago I saw the band play to 20 people or so, but even then it was easy to predict that the band would be playing to a Sasquatch sized-crowd soon. Packing every grassy nook available and well-versed in the Los Angeles’ bands songs, a crowd of thousands joined me in an early afternoon sing-along that had me beaming.

I expected the crowd to clear out for the mellower stylings of Swedish folk troubadour The Tallest Man on Earth, but the crowd crushed forward against the barrier as they strained and struggled to be closer to Kristian Matsson. If you want to know what the kids are surprisingly going crazy for these days, it is for this petite Swede. Matsson does Dylan the same way Dylan did Guthrie — with reverent fetishism. Clad in tight blue jeans and with a cigarette smoking cowboy emblazoned on his leather guitar strap, Matsson enraptured the crowd doing Dylan better than Dylan does these days and much more succinctly. The fervor of his crowd and the way he filled the festival stage with just his lyrics and his guitar, was certainly one of Sasquatch’s biggest surprises. His cover of Paul Simon’s “Graceland” was one of my favorite musical moments of the entire weekend. 

The surprises and solid covers continued as the day went along: a new Long Winters line-up showed off a full-grilled John Roderick and they ended their set with the Grateful Dead’s “Touch of Grey.”  Sub Pop’s Avi Buffalo offered an elastic, complex and catchy set which belied the bands youth and showed great promise. They’re definitely a band to watch as they inch towards the legal drinking age. After the rock roller-coaster Avi Buffalo treated us to, Freelance Whales seemed like nothing more than pleasant afternoon filler. Admittedly, despite their sweet stage banter, the band couldn’t keep my interest for longer than the first few songs.

Happily, fellow blog buzz band The xx fared better than the Freelance Whales when it came to impressing and living up to the hype.  As out of place the black-clad British trio looked in the wide open and neu-hippie crowd of Sasquatch, the band’s dreamy and throbbing sounds translated much better than expected (or feared). Despite the almost infinite expanse of the Gorge, The xx’s songs retained the intimacy that made them so pleasing in the first place. Despite the crowd of thousands, it still felt as if the band was whispering the song in your ear. For the most part, the band was all business and no banter on stage, but their aloofness came across as endearing and shy, though on stage they clearly know what they are doing. As I have always been with this band, I was ready to be disappointed by The xx, to pass them off as a blog blip, unworthy of the hype, but the band yet again pleasantly surprised me.

My surprise took a much less pleasant turn when it came to the attendance for San Francisco’s Girls. Their set was the most disappointingly under-attended of Sasquatch, as seemingly 95% of the crowd enjoyed LCD Soundsystem at sunset on the mainstage. Those of us who stayed behind, a lucky handful of hundreds, enjoyed the coming dusk backed by the sad and sunny eccentricities of Girls’ cascading retro hooks. With a twitchy intensity Christopher Owens, clad in high-waisted pleated khakis and a Dwight Yokam tour shirt, took little notice of the crowd (whatever size it was) and performed the hell out of some of 2009’s best songs including “Lust for Life,” “Laura” and the plodding “Hellhole Ratrace.” The band may have been better suited for the smaller stage or an earlier time slot, when they wouldn’t have been challenged by the dance-thems of LCD Soundsystem, but those of us who stayed behind for Girls didn’t regret the decision.

The fastidious Dirty Projectors fared better in terms of attendance and as you’ve hopefully already read, their golden hour set made me a believer in this Brooklyn band. Unfortunately, the night peaked with the Dirty Projectors for me as the final big name acts I caught that night: Pavement and Public Enemy were plagued by technical issues beyond their control. While the false starts and sudden stops added to the sloppy charm of what one would expect from a Pavement show, the technical issues completely derailed the momentum of Public Enemy’s set. For a call and response rap to work, the audience has to be able to hear you calling … after about six moments of sudden silence during the Public Enemy set and having already screamed “Flava Flaaaave” at the top of my lungs, I called it a night on what turned out to be a surprising Sunday at Sasquatch.

The xx ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

The Tallest Man on Earth ::: Photo by Abbey Simmons

The Gorge at Dusk ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

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Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Edward Sharpe is the freakiest Jesus around. With followers aplenty and a hippie gospel, he presides over the grooviest congregation. Each song begs choral participation of some sort, and if you haven’t heard the WORD yet, by the end of a set you’ll be living it. Or singing it rather.

What’s that you say? You don’t dance? You don’t sing?!? You do now.

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Shabazz Palaces ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

In past years, the earliest slots at Sasquatch! have gone to local emerging acts, bands such as Fleet Foxes, Mad Rad, and Champagne Champagne. Shabazz Palaces is another band that can now be included in that group, of bands who even at the earliest slot made the most of the opportunity and proved they should’ve been given the chance at a larger crowd. Dressed in black, Shabazz Palaces made no introductions, few stops, and stuck strictly to the songs. Given how much the raps say, it was more than enough to make the statement of presence they were looking for.

Though the bright of the noontime sun isn’t exactly the prime environment for bass thumpin and grindin’, it may be the best time for group’s with a more cerebral message to make an impact. Unhindered by a crowd stricken with hours of inebriation and the distraction by big namers, Shabazz had a unique moment hold the attention of an audience that ironically was probably mostly too young to understand just what they were seeing. For those early arrivers, what they were seeing was real, honest-to-God hip hopm like nobody else is making right now. What they were seeing was a portent of what is hopefully to come for the future of hip hop.

Shabazz Palaces ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Shabazz Palaces ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

My Morning Jacket ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

From the beginning of Day One of Sasquatch! Music Festival, I felt like I was always engaged. The one-two mainstage punch of Seattle’s Shabazz Palaces and then Minneapolis’ Brother Ali, was just the right bolt of energy to lead into the festival. Unexpectedly throughout this traditionally rock and indie-rock weekend, hip hop garnered some of the biggest responses.

Though I hadn’t heard of her prior, the U.K.’s Laura Marling felt as if she fit right in the pocket of what’s happening in the Northwest’s female singer-songwriter scene, among emerging acts like People Eating People, Kaylee Cole, Kelli Shaefer, Hooves and Beak. She’s definitely someone who I’ll be digging into the past catalog of. Shortly after her set, bar none of my favorite bands currently, Portland’s Nurses, were back in the saddle. After a bit of a break they’re now focused on working on newer material they’ll be turning into the next wave of interplanetary space pop. To see a band who just last year at this time was existing largely at local house shows represented one of the many happy progressions the weekend was characterized by.

In 2008, the National were scheduled to play an early afternoon set on the Sasquatch! mainstage but due to border issues were rescheduled to the smallest stage late evening, in what was to be a steadily increasing rain. Frown. To see them this time around fill the billing they deserved under fair skies in front of a massive and appreciative crowd was a feeling of the world finally being in balance. Yes, I am shamelessly a National superfan, but it felt another tangible fulfillment of the slow progression toward greatness I’d been expecting to be more evident for some time now. Of a band having become a force unto themselves.

Vampire Weekend’s must faster progression to popularity was in full evidence as they followed the National on the mainstage, delivering probably the best set of the day. Their pairing with My Morning Jacket as headliners was curious, particularly given the high energy and quality of the set that Vampire Weekend gave to the crowd prior. MMJ’s fairly strong opening couldn’t offset the obvious difference in approaches of the two band’s and resulting reactions. My Morning Jacket’s songs came out plodding and introverted in comparison to Vampire Weekend’s quick, catchy melodies, and almost comical stage presence. I think someone might be challenging for default festival headliner in 2011?

Portugal. the Man ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

The National ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

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Vampire Weekend ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Sasquatch was a weekend about progressions for me, and Vampire Weekend’s set at sunset on Saturday’s mainstage represented probably the most dramatic change I witnessed. The prospect of boat-shod Ivy-Leaguers easily commanding twenty odd thousand was, to be honest, not very rock ‘n roll. When front-man Ezra Koenig commented that he was happy summer was here so he could start wearing white shoes again, it was exactly the sort of goofy east-coast stereotype I expected to be fulfilled by the foursome. Despite this, with humor and hard work, the band managed to impress in a manner they’d yet to do in my eyes in two previous sets.

The spontaneous upper field dance party that started about three songs in and continued throughout, I would have never guessed this group inciting. Yet the sheer volume of enthusiastic young fans in evidence proved the sunset position the right billing. The band turning in the best performance of some I’ve yet seen in the past two plus years, shows they’ve now finally grown into a band worthy of the attention they’ve been receiving. More than just catchy songs, Vampire Weekend is now a great band. In fact it was probably the best set of the day. I say this somewhat begrudgingly, but with a new found respect.

And to think, I almost didn’t hang around to watch.

Dirty Projectors ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

I’ve never said it here on the blog, for fear you’d revoke my music writer credentials, but until this weekend I just didn’t get the Dirty Projectors. After being inundated with cries of “the best thing EVER” (since Animal Collective) by every music blog from Brooklyn to Portland, there was no way the band was going to meet the impossible sonic expectations that had been placed on them, and despite repeated listens to Bitte Orca and David Byrne’s stamp of approval, they never did. Until Sasquatch, that is.

Part of my long held concern with Dirty Projectors was the seeming impossibility of recreating the layered intricacies of their sound in a live setting without five minute stops before every song to get the loops just right, but the band did so with aplomb — even in the open air of Sasquatch and with no Memory Man’s to be found. The intricacies of the band’s sound comes not from technology, but near super-human musicianship amidst six people who play as a single finely tuned machine. Playing during dusk, with the light of the Gorge’s golden hour illuminating them, the golden-tongued praise for Dirty Projectors made perfect sense.

They’re still not the best thing EVER, but as far as Sasquatch was concerned, they were pretty damn close.

Just take it from the conversation I overheard while waiting for the band to begin from two teenagers in the front row:

“Dude, we have the best spot EVER.”
“Yeah, unless lightning strikes.”
“If lightning strikes, we’re toast.”
“If lightning strikes [during Dirty Projectors] at least I’ll die happy.”
“Unless it happens right now.”

And they were right. It would be a shame for lightning or over-hyping to keep you  from appreciating the Dirty Projectors.

Dirty Projectors ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Dirty Projectors ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Shabazz Palaces - Belhaven Meridian from WHAT MATTERS MOST on Vimeo.

Shabazz Palaces play the Sasquatch Mainstage at 12.05pm on Saturday.

The choice of Sasquatch as only their second Northwest show in 2010 is a curious one for Shabazz Palaces, considering their relative newness, their penchant for anonymity, and the festival’s indie rock leanings. But when paired with Public Enemy on the bill, their addition to the lineup starts to make more sense. As one of the first groups to explicitly link their message to the state of the African-American experience, Public Enemy know a little something about the same sort of ideas fueling Shabazz’ first releases in 2009.

In light of Flavor of Love, clock-hung Flavor Flav’s foray into reality TV courtesy of VH1, it can be hard to recall that Public Enemy represented, and still represents, an old school of purposeful MCs. Brash and loud, they came up as a new generation of young African-Americans to say “Hey, pay attention!” via a musical form that had developed in New York’s urban communities. It gave those same people a voice where they had none before. Combative, unapologetic, and direct, Public Enemy made a name by giving Chuck D the license to be uncompromising in reaction to the strife created by ghetto-izing a whole class of people. It was renewed black power, and with an edge that made it attractive to African-American youth. Currently Shabazz Palaces are drawing from the same well of cultural pride and the need to see their people succeed, but the execution is more intellectually measured. And without raising their voices, they come out just as uncompromising as Public Enemy on every topic they encounter.

It doesn’t take more than a cursory look to see that popular rap and hip hop are in the midst of an identity crisis right now. The philosophical underpinnings of the highly-produced rap of today hardly resembles the dynamic dance hall hip hop it’s descended from. Rap as it’s made for mass-consumption today is a beast of popular music unto itself, with a built-up mythology and set of expectations mediated via MTV’s Cribs and their unwavering support of everything Jay-Z. No longer do DJ’s and MC’s command hulking floors of sweaty dancers, playfully navigating the mood of the room. Instead rap crews command hulking entourages of “bodyguards” and inflated paychecks, bottles of Cristal and a new video a month. Instead of Public Enemy, we’ve got Little Wayne and countless other “beat clowns.”

Cognizant that rap has lost its way, Shabazz Palaces seem to have surfaced especially to remind us, and particularly those within the hip hop community itself, that the future isn’t buying pre-made beats to rhyme over between sips of cough syrup. They are taking it back to the dance hall, as well as back to its roots as a vehicle for cultural conversation.

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Portugal the Man (with Wild Orchid Children) circa 2008 ::: photo by Abbey Simmons

Portugal The Man is one of those bands whose name I’ve seen everywhere but I’ve never actually sat down to listen to them. Never even heard of song of theirs until this week. In this crazy world it’s impossible to be in touch with everything that is going on.

Gentle reader, I’m sure there are plenty of bands in your life whose names are on the tip of your tongue. You hear those names whispered on the lips of strangers on busy city streets. Those bands have yet to make it into your hearts. So after doing a little homework on the band I’ve come to find even if you’ve never heard this band before, you may already like them more than you think.

In 2008, Portugal The Man collaborated with members of Kay Kay and the Weathered Underground on their album Censored Colors. That should give you an idea of what Portugal. The Man is all about, layers upon layers of instrumentation, a strong vocal foundation and interesting, well-written songs. I also found out they did a short tour with one of my favorite “college era” bands; Circle Takes the Square back in 2007.

I’m a novice in the PTM game but I’m enjoying what I’ve heard thus far. This song, “The Dead Dog,” is available for free download from their website and is off their new album American Ghetto. Enjoy.

Portugal. The Man is performing at Sasquatch on Saturday May 29th from 3:00pm to 3:45 pm on the Bigfoot Stage.