Jessica Dobson is finally the frontperson. And she deserve it after having toured with the likes of Beck, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and most recently the Shins. There’s no doubt that she’s paid her dues. Backed by, among others, her husband Peter on drums, her band, Deep Sea Diver, is not only fantastic, but an excellent way to start day 3 of the Sasquatch! Music Festival. With Dobson’s brand of seemingly haphazard jangly guitars and the incredibly personal lyrics, it was easily accessible and impossible not to move to. Exactly what you need to start your day. This show was punctuated with a cameo by Kendra Cox, member of Seattle up-and-comers Lemolo, and, for this tour, vocal support and keys for Deep Sea Diver. When I asked Peter how it was playing with Kendra in preparation for the tour, he was all praise. “I know she’s busy with Megan [Grandall] (Lemolo’s other half) but she’s a great addition to the band and we love having her whenever possible.” The addition of a female back-up vocal to Jessica’s lead is, at least here, a great move and a unique addition to their sound. 

I really can’t recommend them enough, and they certainly started the day off with a precedent of excellence. Next I played my favorite game, “go to a band you’ve never heard of and see if you like them.” I drew Torche at the Bigfoot stage. Being one of the only heavy bands booked for the entire festival, it seemed like they had the market cornered and would garner a huge response. This was not the case. Torche is more heavy pop than metal, with a pre-packaged sound that left me unimpressed and immediately bored. That was before I noticed their guitars. Both the bass and one of the guitars had steel necks and fretboards. Thinking it was pretty neat, but not wanting to think that Torche had made this decision because they’d said to themselves, “how metal are we with these?” I spent the rest of my time at their set trying to figure out if they actually made a discernable difference. They did not.

I plodded down to the pit at the Sasquatch stage to get a good close spot to watch Danny Brown. My complete notes for this show are as follows: ” Love it, Love it, Lov–.” I was helpless. It was overwhelming, and I didn’t care that he was so drunk I couldn’t understand a word he said. We were brothers for those 50 minutes, and if you want to see what that’s like, I suggest him highly.

Having heard Wild Belle via KRCW a few weeks ago, I was excited to see them. I’m a sucker for a female rock vocalist with a killer band (a la Julia Massey and the Five Finger Discount), so I was sure that I’d be loving every minute of it.

Despite receiving a live shout out from Jessica Dobson during the DSD set earlier that day, they failed to catch my ear more than in passing, and I decided to hang out and listen to them while writing a little. They served as perfect backing music for that activity, but every time I paid closer attention, I was bored. Natalie Bergman’s vocals are fantastically soulful and emotional, and this woman can definitely sing, but as I listened to the lyrics, I was uninspired. For whatever reason, I just couldn’t get into it. The musicality of it was well-crafted, and they are technically sound, but it just didn’t strike me in the way that I wanted it to. Given that their set was well-attended, I can easily assume that they are good at what they do, but for me, it was a great time to get some work done.

Luckily El-P was up next. The world’s only Brooklyn ginger MC is hot for a reason. The guy is incredibly talented and a Master of Ceremonies in the truest sense of the word. With lyrics that bleed from his very veins, and an onstage swagger that dares one to question his words as fact, El-P is exactly what you want in your local neighborhood rapper. He’s genuine, opinionated, well-spoken, and articulate, and has no DJ. In the place of the traditional wheels of steel, EL-P has two multi-intrumentalists who provide the monster beats he requires.

I’m not supposed to like Edwarde Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. I DON’T, in fact, like Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, but several thousand fans today disagree with my perspective, so I felt I should investigate. Mr. Sharpe has several things going for him: this style of music is incredibly accessible and fun, it makes people smile, and it makes them want to dance. It also happens to have a rustic feel to it, as if it could have existed in a holler somewhere, with dozens of family members singing for the sake of singing. This “Americana” style of music is catchy and strikes a common chord in the audience. People become instant friends, alliances are formed, and the masses come together in a screaming heap of happy. The music itself doesn’t seem complex, which might be the very secret of it’s success. There is, however, the complexity of the sound’s texture itself, requiring a full brass section, strings, and several percussionists. All of this results in a simple, engaging, and undeniable beauty, that, after all is said and done, may just be the reason that Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeroes have garnered the devoted following they have. You know what? I DO like Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, so there.

Elvis Costello is incredible. It goes without saying that he’s a legend, and is unassailable in essentially every way. With this in mind, I came over the edge of the main amphitheater expecting to see a huge crowd spilling out into the pathway. Unfortunately his draw was less than that of Edward Sharpe, and certainly less than Macklemore. This made me sad, considering the amount of awesome that was coming from the stage. The four men on it, Elvis in the lead, were very close to each other, giving the impression that they were small, compared to Mr. Sharpe’s 13 band members. The sound that came from those four tightly packed gentlemen was astounding. It was the tightest, most precise musicianship I’ve ever been lucky enough to witness, and my heart is full of sorrow that more people didn’t realize the opportunity to see a legend in action. Luckily, my heart was lifted by a man by the name of Killer Mike.

Something was happening on the Yeti stage, and I had to know what it was. I was greeted by a crowd thousands strong, all focused on one man on stage, which was an odd sight. I’m not accustomed to seeing just one performer, but was instantly put at ease, because that one man on stage is one Mr. Killer Mike, and as he put it “I don’t need a fucking hype man. I’m my own hype man, and when that won’t work I have you [audience] to help me out. From that moment, Killer Mike had me. I have never in all my time seeing and reviewing shows seen an individual so masterfully engage an audience to the point that we all loved him immensely, and felt that love reverberating back to us as I did from Killer Mike. He was inspirational, with near preacher-like style of oration between songs, making a point to repeat whole verses a cappella to emphasize his lyrics and articulate his message, which is as follows: “You can do anything you want to, but you have to put your whole fucking self into it. If you are holding onto your fears from the past, you are only holding yourself back. DO NOT BE AFRAID. You are strong enough to move mountains, but you have to first believe in yourself.” I can’t help but think how much more weight these words carry coming from a veteran of the game like Mike than Danny Brown, El-P, or even Macklemore. Killer Mike is a master, and we should all be so lucky as to feel his love.

On a high from that set, I went to check out Grimes for the first time in my life. I’d heard of her, and heard that she is not to be missed, and I heard correctly. It was the poppiest, synth-driven, dancy set of Sasquatch so far, and I couldn’t have been happier to be there. I wasn’t and am not familiar with her music, but it didn’t matter in the least. Her infectious energy and and incredible vocal range kept me guessing the entire time. I enjoyed myself immensely and it was a great opportunity to relax and just bask in the simplicity of her voice over a sick beat. Plus, I was headed to Mumford and Sons, and I was scared.

I’m a man who can admit when he’s wrong. In the case of Mumford & Sons, I’m exactly half wrong, and I’m willing to admit it. I was sitting in the middle of The Gorge and all around me people are, to put it quite simply, losing their shit. They’re smiling, they’re laughing, and they’re dancing with their heads thrown back. The power to move this many people in that way is singular, and it is not attained by amateurs. As Mumford et al. resemble turn-of-the-century Irish lads in a pub somewhere, it’s easy to identify with them and invest in the music. Their skill, however, belies their look. These guys are seriously no joke. Each player is obviously a master of their craft, and they are all masters of entertaining the audience. The style of music they play is easy to get into and the lyrics speak to commonly held emotions. They are an excellent band, and deserve most of the praise and fortune they receive. I still don’t like them that much though, and here’s why: I have never in my life heard a band who takes such little shame in pounding the quarter note throughout the entire song, in every song. It’s the singular problem that Mumford and Sons don’t get my full respect. A 4/4 beat with every quarter note pounded adds a trance-like aspect to the music. It’s an easy way to create a sound to which people move, but it’s also something that gets old in about 3 songs. I know that not all Mumford songs have the obviously accented quarter note, but almost every one I heard tonight did. To everyone who told me that I would be a fan after seeing them live once, I say this: I see what you mean. They’re massively entertaining and very good musicians, but it’s just not enough. I tried, guys.

I ended the day with Primus 3D. Just how they planned to achieve the 3rd “D” was a mystery, and was the subject of much discussion in the media tent throughout the weekend. Having seen Primus several times prior, I was both excited and nervous. I knew that they have it in them to bring the thunder in a big way, but several years had passed and the lineup had changed, and I was concerned that it might precipitate a breakdown in basic Les Claypool/Larry Lalonde chemistry that is the backbone of Primus’ success. There was the issue of the mysterious 3rd “D”, but I trusted Claypool and co. to sort it out in a non-lame manner. I collected the ascribed 3D glasses and read the disclaimer on the screen, which in part asked that, “if feelings of dizziness or nausea become apparent, remove glasses, look away from the screen, and try not to vomit on your neighbor.” It wreaked of classic Primus, so I settled into a spot an prepared myself for what was sure to come.

I was not adequately prepared.

With a thunder that Thor himself would envy, Mr. Claypool ripped into “blue collar tweakers” with an authority that assuaged any of my previous concerns. The man is simply an animal, with incomparable skills on his instrument, and a sense of showmanship that reminded me of a sideshow caller. He introduced his band as the “Primus guys,” and to the audience as the “Sasquatchers,” made it clear that this was not to be argued, and took us on a journey through selections from the new album, “Green Gnaugahyde” as well as favorites such as “Over the Falls” and “Jerry Was a Race Car Driver” never relenting, never wavering, and never giving an inch. I was a fool to think that Les Claypool would do anything less than completely melt my face.

Day three in the books, with a conversion, a confirmation, and a sermon from Killer Mike. Really the best day of the festival so far.

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–Andrew Harris, music writer, The Monarch Review