Chvrches. I didn’t know what to expect from Chvches. In my pre-‘Squatch research I had listened to their stuff, but you really can never tell by just listening. As the Glasgow trio took the stage, it started raining much harder than it had been previously. Once the first synth-beat dropped, people seemed to cheer up, and with good reason. Chvches is that band that you can’t help but like. Lead vocalist Lauren Mayberry is sprite-like with quite a small stature. While she may appear diminutive, she is no shrinking violet. She commanded the stage like the veteran she is, and from within her small frame soared a massive singing voice. I was completely impressed with her control and her near-perfect tuning. It’s always refreshing to hear pop music with such an obviously well-trained performer. Chvches is one of the first pure-pop acts to which I could imagine myself listening. It was engaging, loaded with variety, and not cheesy in any way. 

It was raining pretty hard when Chvrches ended, so I decided to head to the Chupacabra stage to see a favorite comedian of mine, Mike Birbiglia. Earlier in the weekend, my friend Miles and I were wandering around and happened to bump into Mr. Birbiglia as he, too, wandered. Mile went right up to him and said, “You’re Mike Birbiglia.” Mike Birbiglia, being, in fact, Mike Birbiglia, agreed, and thanked Miles. Relating this level of awkward funny is the only way through which I can explain what it feels like to watch comedians at festivals. I had seen a comedian who was actually pretty funny completely bomb, and I’m not sure it was his fault at all. People at festivals just really aren’t in the comedy frame of mind. So doubly impressive was the fact that Mike Birbiglia killed. He had me laughing as I was walking into the media area of the stage, and it was this kind of immediate engagement that I suspect made him more successful at this type of performance.

After drying out my entire life and getting a good laugh at Chupacabra, I headed to the main stage to fulfill a promise to my friend Stef: to see Imagine Dragons live. I came over the hill just in time for their hit single, “Radioactive.” Imagine Dragons is a band that I really want to like. The Las Vegas 5-piece that is Imagine Dragons is impressive on paper, with a synthpop/alt-rock fusion that has massive potential. The live performance, however, left me unimpressed to say the least. This mash-up of two very different styles seemed to split the playlist into synth-y pop songs and guitar-based rock songs, and neither was really that good. Add to that the incredible theatrics of thee members of the band, and it really felt like they were trying to convince me that they were worth the hype; that they were worthy of such a prime spot during the festival. I can tell you that, in my opinion, on this day, they were not.

Dirty Projectors are another story completely. These guys took the stage to rain and a hooded audience that, when I looked back from the photo area, were the most sullen, miserable thousand people I’ve seen yet. The Projectors took one look at them and accepted the challenge of reheating their frozen forms. The first thing I noticed was nothing visible, but the simple sound of three women singing together. They were individually breathtakingly talented, but when they came together it was simply jaw-dropping. They moved more closely through complex dissonant progressions that would make professional singers weep, and provided a misty, enticing feel, like the sirens singing souls to shipwreck. With that much talent providing the canvas upon which the leads can paint, you know the end result is going to be something special.

This was absolutely true. One of the leads in this case is Dave Longstreth, an indie legend, and guitar genius, working with effects and subtones to add a unique but crucial aspect to the overall Projectors sound. This whole set was just golden, but the high point for me was when one of the other vocalists (maybe Amber) sang lead vocals on a song or two. It was nice to see her be able to flex her vocal muscles in a way that I would not see anywhere else in the festival. By the end of the set, I was making pinkie-swears with myself that I would obtain more Dirty Projectors interplay of female backup, talent of sub-lead, guitar skills of lead, ethereal synths and smoky guitar effects, plus rain and wind, felt like the Scottish glens or something.

Dirty Projectors is a great warm up for Portland 4 piece, Menomena, aka my favorite band. As I can in no way retain objectivity, I won’t offer a critique, as I feel like it’s unethical. I will say this, however: They keep getting better. With the loss of founding member Brent Knopf, Menomena nearly ended completely as they made their third album, Mines. Much to my pleasure, they did not break up, and went on to release two monster records that show their talent in the best way. Founding members Justin and Danny took the ball and ran with it, creating a bigger, better Menomena, with more flexibility and motion in their music. The better Menomena was on display today, easily cranking off hits and singles from their first album, and moving from older stuff to newer stuff with ease. I was alarmed at hearing the new right next to the old, but it was perfectly unnoticeable to a seasoned fan such as myself, which is really the highest compliment I can pay. If you get the chance to check them out for yourself I urge you to. I doubt you’ll be disappointed.

The Lumineers were next and I really couldn’t be less excited about their set. It was everything I thought it would be, from period costumes and instruments to obviously rehearsed and scripted stage banter. I am completely unimpressed by this band, and I really don’t want to give them another chance. Watching honest to God talents like Dirty Projectors, Evlis Costello, and Killer Mike makes it almost insulting when a band has to support their diminished talents with theatrics (Mackemore I’m looking at you here) and watching it happen for a second time in the weekend, and both on the main stage with prime spots, made my blood boil. I left to drown my sorrows in Alt-J. It worked.

Alt J utilizes a very intriguing duet that is impossible not to love. Unlike most harmony structures we hear in popular music, Alt-J cling to not the pleasing resolved chords, but the anxiety-provoking dissonances, keeping the audience on the tips of their fingers throughout their performance. It’s interesting when acts use the sonically unexpected. It can go one of two directions, and never halfway in either. It falls flat, unappreciated and unrewarded by the audience at large, or it catches you by surprise in the best possible way. Alt-J rely on their deft use of harmony and chord progression to achieve a subtle sense of unease and mystery. The dynamic of a live percussionist vs. eDrums provides a background of harmonious conflict, with each utilizing vastly different methods to achieve the same effect. This allows for the lesser-appreciated facets of music to take center stage. The end result is a light, airy sound supported by pulsing synths providing a foundation for the unique vocals. They were so “other than” that it reminded me of an old Primus just beginning to find that “weird” works for them, and I can’t wait to see what they do next. At the end of their set, they covered “A Real Hero,” a track made famous by the soundtrack to the movie Drive, a cappella. I nearly died several times. Luckily I stayed alive long enough to see Ariel Pink, of whom I knew absolutely nothing.

Ariel Pink is an interesting cross of almost surf rock guitar licks and synth runs, even harmony style, but the presentation is decidedly dark and hedonistic. The set itself is barely lit, with most of the illumination coming from a giant video screen in the back, leaving the three band members dimly backlit. This gives the whole ordeal a touch of the macabre, and you get the sense that the upbeat-sounding melody hides lyrics about babyfights and odd sideshow acts, like the Bearded Baby, and the elusive and rarely seen StrongBaby. Adding to the sense of oddity is the stage banter of Mr. Pink himself, with lines like, “If you’re not coming in your pants, I’m doing something wrong,” delivered with all the sing-soingy offhandedness of a drunk aunt at the family reunion. Aside from all the theatrics however, beats a heart that is pure musicianship, and these guys came to play. The drums are nowhere in the same zipcode as simple, and yet there is never a falter, never a beat lost or added. You see, my gentle flower, if you want to do something in the weirdest possible way, you must first master that thing at its most basic. The basic tenets of tightness, groove, and musicality are alive and well in Ariel Pink, as are the unusual, the elaborately staged, and the just plain dark. When you do finally see them, as you are most certainly going to after reading this, might I suggest that you just enjoy it. Don’t try to think about it too much. You may find yourself in a babyfight.

Postal Service was the one band I was worried about. I didn’t know what to expect, as they had only ever existed to me as a beloved album to which I listened in my car until I knew every word, then for another 7 years. When the lights went up and Ben Gibbard, Jenny Lewis, and the other members of the band took the stage, I was completely overwhelmed, not able to believe I was watching the actual Postal Service in real life. They opened with “The District sleeps Alone Tonight” and I was in their palms. It’s hard to break them down musically, as it’s basically a beat under Gibbard’s and Lewis’ vocals, but it couldn’t matter less. They do that particular thing VERY well. The kind of good that is only possible with an emotional attachment, and their lyrics are rife with emotional tension. To see 25,000 people agreeing that this was a good thing, and that they approved was a powerful moment. It was a great thing to be able to cross off my bucket list, and an even better way to end the weekend.

Andrew Harris is very tired, and is going to sleep now.