Day One – Saturday, May 23th

Energy was riding high as the acts began and we started the days action by catching Portland’s own Blind Pilot. This big band, which actually fluctuates in size around the founding duo of Israel Nebeker and Ryan Dobrowski, brought a mix of strings and interwoven vocals to produce a bluegrassy sound both sorrowful and inspiring. We later spoke to them about their recent European tour with the Counting Crows and their famous tours of the West Coast done exclusively on bicycles (yes, including equipment). Keep an eye out for our longer interview posts to come shortly.

King Kahn and the Shrines then served up our first portion of dance grooves, hitting us with a funky vibe that seemed ripped from the Blues Brother’s Gospel. This feeling carried over easily to Devotchka’s set and their frenzied blend of accordion and gypsy rhythms, which baptized the mosh-pit area in its first layer of sweat. Next up were the thumping electronic beats of keyboard trio Animal Collective. If you’ve never heard of Animal Collective before, it’s understandable. Their obvious rejection to all musical trends, vibes and styles is what makes them so popular and conversely, so misunderstood. Their show, albiet incredible, doesn’t bring the heat when it comes to visual performances. Their blend of “freak folk” ends up bare when compared to contemporary psychedelic giants The Flaming Lips or Of Montreal. Being 2009, their lack of sensual stimulation and the short attention span of the general public can only lead to more drugs.

Next up was Ra Ra Riot on the festival’s smallest stage, bringing a driving beat set to violin and cello strings that was reminiscent of an upbeat Arcade Fire. This was soon mellowed out by the end of Sun Kil Moon’s set, whose guitar heavy, winding pieces sank easily into the late afternoon heat and set a perfect stage for the subsequent Mos Def appearance.

The masked Renaissance man came out and laid waste to the hip-hop haters with a set that mixed rap, reggae and rock, while effortlessly intermixing accepella breaks that dared your ears to keep pace. It may sound difficult to get goose bumps when its 82°F outside, but Mos Def calmly entered the stage like a king returning to his pride, fresh from a kill. His confidence rained on the crowd and soon even the haters were embarrassingly swaying their thick heads. If you’ve been lulled into a sense that he’s lost a beat since hitting Hollywood, think again – this show left everyone smiling as mischievously as Mos himself. At one point he demanded that everyone turn to look at the setting sun behind them, which painted The Gorge in dusty tones of yellow and brown; even Mos Def had to stop and appreciate the breathtaking beauty of the natural setting.

As night fell we moved over to the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s at the main stage. Lead singer Karen O was in terrific form, alternating between rock wails and quiet whispers under the gaze of a glowing floating eyeball. The slow acoustic version of the song “Maps” was one of the most poignant moments of the entire festival, with Nick Zinner’s soft lyrics whispering through the darkened canyons. The scene was truly surreal.

Next the Kings of Leon took the stage for their highly anticipated set, which marked the end of their recent worldwide tour for the release of Only by the Night. I couldn’t help but compare this show with Bonnaroo 2007, where they played an early day set without stage effects or headline fanfare. The differences now couldn’t be starker: it’s easy to sense how they’ve blown up after seeing the smoke, lights, and crowd that filled the Gorge Amphitheater. But despite some cosmetic changes, KOL still retains the long-haired exuberance of their early days, and they did a great job of mixing old and new hits as a reminder to their audience. After getting the crowd to shout along to “This Sex is On Fire”, they cooled things down to the steady march of “Knocked Up”. It was a fitting punch to the opening round of performances.

There seemed to be a collective sigh from the festival as day one ended, a sense that everyone came out like a kid on the last day of school, only to be bludgeoned into submission by the bullying heat of summer. The camping crowds seemed quieter than they had on Friday night.

Day Two – Sunday, May 24th

We stopped by the media area in the morning to get some early work done but this was made difficult by the extremely danceable beats coming from Mad Rad on the stage next door. Their hard, garish raps were a good pick-me-up for the day ahead, like a cup of coffee with some fist stirred in.

Next came performances by John Vanderslice and Calexico, who played adeptly but lacked the original spark displayed by festival competitors. Seattle band Fences combined country guitar, mournful lyrics, and a steady snare drum tempo effectively, but lacked much-needed originality between songs.

This lull in performances was shattered by the St. Vincent set on Wookie Stage. We were blessed with a backstage view as Annie Clark proved why she’s one of the hottest rising female performers in music today. Her simple blend of rural guitar, pop rhythms, and sweet bird-like vocals struck a chord with the audience, who were equally delighted by her cheerful dialogue between songs. She really seemed at home in the summer sun.

The bar was only set higher as North Carolina’s The Avett Brothers put on a remarkable set on the Main Stage. The group’s mix of bluegrass, punk rock, and honky tonk doesn’t sound like it could come together, but their music is energetic and filled with resounding emotion. Their performance of the hit “Murder in the City” entranced the thousands watching from the grassy hillside and no doubt prompted a flood of calls to loved ones elsewhere.

The Dodos and The Submarines jammed out lighthearted group pop tunes, which set a nice juxtaposition to the deeper melodies of the TV On The Radio set. Their electro indie-rock reverberated off the surrounding rocks with the intensity you’d expect after hearing their studio records. Their hit “Wolf Like Me” drove the mosh pit to a dusty frenzy and seemed to inject renewed vigor at the festival’s midpoint.

Against the same setting-sun that blessed Mos Def, Of Montreal unleashed their eclectic brand of psychedelic pop rock on the packed Wookie Stage crowd. Although they repeated many of the same theatrics they used at the Norman Music Festival, the size and spirit of the audience brought the entire act to a new level. After the screaming and unrepentant bouncing that “The Party’s Crashing Me” created, the band fittingly ended their set with “A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger” enshrouded in confetti. Front man Kevin Barnes channeled the ravenous energy of the crowd as he smashed his guitar to pieces and brought proceedings to a close.

Jane’s Addiction ended the night on the Main Stage, amidst whispers of the most repeated question of the festival: “Why is Jane’s Addiction here?” The selection stuck out awkwardly amongst the lineup and for good reason: their early 90′s sounded extremely dated after a day filled with musical wizardry. I’ll credit them with bringing an admirable amount of energy and solid rock to their set, but you just have to look at the Kings of Leon set the night before to know Jane’s never had a chance. If the Sasquatch committee wants to go retro again next year, take a page from Coachella’s book and get Prince instead.

A quick stop by the Dance tent yielded some brief Tiesto-esk memories and some extra layers of grime from nearby dancers to take home to our camp. Score. Thanks.

If the crowd seemed subdued returning to their tents on Day One, they made up for it on Sunday night. The campground came alive with the sounds of music and laughter, and impromptu dance parties sprang up like desert wildflowers. Things didn’t die down ’til sunrise.

Day Three – Monday, May 25th

There’s always that lousy gut feeling on the last day of a festival, and this was no exception: you could almost see everyone mouthing “sh-eeit” as they trudged up to the main grounds for the last time.

Grizzly Bear on the Main Stage helped soothe our troubled hearts with their eerie, intermingled crooning, with their performance of “Knife” sounding especially sublime in the punishing sun. Santigold then flipped the switch and moved everyone to action with her blaring dance hall music, which soon turned the amphitheater into a pulsating crowd of arms and legs. I still have the image of her synchronized backup dance duo shimmying around the stage, accentuating every note perfectly with leg kicks and finger points.

Santigold’s sweaty set drove the tone for the afternoon, with successive bands only upping the energy level of their predecessors.

If Sasquatch organizers intended to combat the blues of the last day with some high-octane band choices, then my hat goes off to their selections. Following on the heels of Santigold was Gogol Bordello and his merry band of accordion and violin players. You can’t really tell what he’s ever saying, but as long as you shout “ra ra ra” you’ll be fine. His gypsy rock soon had the entire audience trouncing around like drunken pirates on shore leave.

But for all the wildness and stereotyped Eastern European accents that Bordello brought, even his act quaffed in comparison to The Monotonix. For days leading up to Sunday, we got recommendations from several sources (including guitarist Bryan Poole of Of Montreal) that we had to catch this Isreali rock band at all costs. And so, we missed out on an eagerly anticipated Fleet Foxes show to see if these guys really “took over a show” as we had been told.

These guys didn’t just take over the show, they literally walked on it. Watching these wild men is like watching hard rock evolve out of a mud puddle in real time, clawing forward as it oozes sweat, grease, and profanities.  Its ugly and profoundly hairy – think a bastard mix of Jack Black, Rat Fink, and Borat.

To the sound of monotonous primal guitar chords and infectious drum beats, they take audience participation to unforeseen, maddening heights. They play snare drums on top of people. They grab audience members, douse them in beer and take their shirts. I got spit on – and liked it. I have no idea how their “sound” converts to recorded albums, but as a live act it is truly unlike anything out there.

Go. See. The Monotonix. Just don’t wear clothes you like.

Following that kind of show is tough, but The Knux were up to the task. Their mix of heavy rock riffs with equally heavy hip-hop lyrics kept the tempo going and didn’t let the crowd catch its breath. The subsequent Girl Talk set took the chewed up audience and reduced it to a fine pulp. Greg Gillis brought his trademark knack for infecting the crowd with unrestrained rambunctiousness and turned the entire Wookie stage into his personal dance floor. His mixes continue to surprise as much they delight.  Fortunately, editor Glowjangles found his way to the stage and grabbed some sweet sweaty shots of Greg and company.

After dancing our hearts out to Girl Talk and with Chromeo in store, we made a veteran move and decided to take a rest before our life changing DJ set with Dave 1 and P-Thugg. We moved over to catch the Erykah Badu set on the Main Stage, and watched as she tried to out-gangsta Mos Def’s set from Day One. She did not disappoint. Opening her set with a poetic soliloquy explaining to her fans where she’s been the past few years, she effectively mixed over-the-top confidence with surprisingly revealing lyrics. Her eyes and mannerisms still retain that irresistible mystique, and she’s rounded her natural singing talents with some mean drum machine skills. Soaking in Erykah’s set felt like sipping on fine Scotch after a few hours of beer bongs and well shots.

Something happened in the Dance Tent that third and final night. Hazy memories and the folded, soaked fedora hat in my hand were the only clues as to what had transpired in that small tarp covered discotheque. As I exited my front row position, kicking empty plastic water bottles into imaginary piles, I vaguely remembered P-Thugg wearing a set of freshly ironed purple pajamas, and a side of smile served by musician/dj Dave 1 of Chromeo. To this day I can not fully explain the mob-like energy circulating the tent that night, but I can fully exclaim the grin (and grime) that wouldn’t come our off  faces till we passed out late that night. Thanks Chromeo. Thanks Sasquatch.

More pictures after the jump >>

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