For photos of this year’s Sasquatch! festival, go to:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/sasquatch08

Well, I was wrong about Sasquatch (which is still currently happening): Dan Bejar DID perform with the New Pornographers. It was awesome! Neko Case was there, too. In other surprises, the National’s tour bus broke down so they played later than their original slot, which meant Fleet Foxes were able to play a later set, to a bigger crowd. Their carefully-stacked harmonies and acoustic instrumentation seemed like a natural fit for the splendor of the Gorge, but I think their music is really too subtle for such a large venue.

M.I.A. did not get stopped by customs and was able to perform a pumping, puzzling set; on such a grand scale, some of her songs sound very unmusical. (The other ones, the hits, sounded great.) She did the standard thing of letting a whole bunch of kids onstage during a few songs, causing panic among the yellow-shirted security staff. In other news, the band “Awesome” is not, despite their name, awesome. In fact their music is spectacularly un-awesome. Hokey joke-fiddle-rock with jam band overtones. Atrocious, really.

Tegan and Sara were great, able to scale their performances to the giant venue, complete with their trademark witty banter. Kathleen Edwards killed it with a passionate, perfect set complete with some foot-stomping spear-in-the-back lead guitar work courtesy of Ms. Edwards. The Morning Benders played a charming, effortless set, and J. Tillman’s dry, hilarious between-song banter is at excellent odds with his mopey, beautiful acoustic ballads.

In other Sasquatch news: Morgan Murphy is a very funny stand-up comedian. (No, I’d never heard of her, either.) She made a joke about waiting in line for the ice cold showers, to which a hippie festival-goer shouted, “Why bother with a shower?” She quickly whipped back, “Well, eight guys came all over my face last night so… yeah, R.E.M. was just that good.” Another note: Canadians seem to be much more naturally disposed to be festival-goers than Americans. They are just better at it; they have more fun, and get more fucked up, without getting exhausted. I am not sure why this is; healthcare, perhaps? Also, Truckasauras would very much like to see your tits. If you show them, they will give you a T-shirt. (Which seems to kind of go against the whole point of baring one’s… oh, never mind.)

Something funny about festivals: About the second band of the day in, the individual performances stop mattering, and it all becomes a hazy, pleasant wash of sound. For me, personally, the two best performances were (probably not coincidentally) the two first performances I saw on either day. I would have loved to stay for the third day as I originally planed, but the sleeping situation was not suitable for me (more on that below), and my early departure meant that I got to come into work today, on the holiday! Yay!

Lowlights:

• Occasional rain. Kind of unavoidable, I guess. Also, an intermittently hot sun. Sweat, and no easy access to showers.

• Lines. Lines to get in. Lines for the comedy tent, which were constant. (The beer lines and Honey Bucket lines, however, were not bad at all.) Waiting for an hour for the chick to show up to will call with my press pass.

• The dumb girl at the Verizon booth hawking, I don’t know what, cell phone plans or something? She did the worst form of street advertising: yelling at people passing by, trying to engage them in public conversation. I fucking hate that. “Hey, you, with the t-shirt, what band are you here to see? Spearhead am I right? Hey, how’s about a cell phone?”

• The Kooks pissing off their fans (and, no doubt, Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks, whose set immediately followed theirs) by starting nearly an hour after their scheduled start time.

• I tried to avoid Mike Patton’s new project, Crudo, like the plague. I really did. But in waiting for the line for the Honey Bucket, some of their set managed to waft over. It sounded like the most awful kind of New Jack Swing, with what had to be the single worst moment of scratching ever performed by anybody anywhere: it sounded like someone stuck the microphone in a fan. An arrhythmic thwap! thwap! Honestly, just the shittiest music I heard all weekend. Maybe ever.

• Getting into the campground took FOREVER. We sat in standstill traffic for an hour before getting to the girl who wanted to take our money. “Where’s your ticket?” she asked. “Will call,” I responded. “You need to have your ticket before you can enter the campground.” SOOO we had to circle around and wait through the line a second time.

• Yeah, camping sucked. Imagine pitching your tent in rural Washington, near one of the most spectacular natural settings in the world. NOW imagine that idyll shattered by a group of 18-20 year old college kids who are FUCKED out of their minds on weed, beer, whiskey, acid, mushrooms, ecstasy, poor taste, bad decisions, eminent failure, and god know what else. These fucktards don’t sleep, play bad music (Kid Rock, etc.) shout, fight, screech (honestly, what is up with drunk screeching sorority girls), piss, drink, stumble, and shout some more. There was no sleep to be had. At three in the morning, there was a very loud, very stupid argument outside my door by two guys who were supposedly friends. Their conversation was filled with such witty rejoinders as, “Fuck you!” and “Step off, son!” (Also, let me be the first to admit that I am old and have forgotten how to have fun.)

I am hard-pressed to pick a particular high point, at least performance-wise, but the whole overall experience was pretty good. I enjoyed myself a lot more once I stopped worrying about an agenda and stopped caring about seeking out particular bands. Lying in the grass on the hill, looking at the blue sky, having a sleepy murmured conversation with a friend, drinking an $11 Coors Light (yeah, I know.), feeling the sun and the breeze, not really sure what band is playing down in the bowl below… It was fun. Next year, maybe I’ll try to get a motel room.