Woohoo! And we're done! Blitzen Trapper just closed out this year's fest with some good ole fashioned 'merican rock n' roll! And wolf-howling!

Thanks to all the thousands of you that made it down this year! Thanks to all the bands! I can't feel my legs anymore! See you next year!

Sharing their name with both Star Wars' Tusken Raiders and a threatened tribe in the Namibian bush, Sandpeople are a giant Portland hip-hop crew -- with 8 people, one of whom is basketball-player tall, they more than fill the stage with a riot of long waving limbs and bountiful bounding backup shouters. Their tracks combine bone-crunchingly loud bass and bass drum (I think at this point Yellow Swans-ish might be the appropriate honorific) with delicate flute/guitar/other-high-pitched-musical-sound samples. Their lyrics range from helpful advice ("Don't drive with drugs up in the front, put 'em in the trunk") to relevant aphorisms ("Fuck the deadbeat dads of modern music!").

Like other PDX Pop hip-hop acts before them, they worked incredibly hard to get our relatively dance-resistant crowd to move their feet and wave their hands. And it worked! And now we've only got Blitzen Trapper left before we bring this year's fest to a close! Holy cow!

I think my heart's stopped. Yellow Swans just played the loudest most physical 20 minutes of music I've ever heard. Their entire set consisted of an impossibly loud sustained buzzing, roaring, delay-soaked madness. It was less like listening to music than like having it performed inside your own chest cavity -- ribs, heart, lungs, and other important things vibrating wildly.

Now, Sandpeople.

Evolutionary Jass Band were just totally incredible, but even though they're one of my favorite bands in town, I don't have time to say too much more about that right now because Yellow Swans are getting started. One of them just gave a great opening speech thanking EJB, pointing the crowd to the 250 extra earplugs we bought for their set (they are known to be a ridiculously loud band), giving a shoutout to all-ages music, and calling for the kids to take fixing the world into their own hands. Pretty much all the PDX Pop g-spots!

They're really starting now though (I can tell because the inside of my head is shaking from the volume even though I'm sitting halfway across the room), so I'm gonna get off my duff and get in there.

A chemist can hardly resist a lyric like "Only electrons from here until your eardrums," because, HEY! electrons! Whoa! Beyond that, Dat'r was a shot of caffeine into the evening in conjunction with the Nice Boys following the mellow earlier set block. The game console-controller conducted music, partnered with Paul's risk of impalement on his cymbals and Matt's wailing vocals, makes you appreciate how an Inferius must feel in Voldemort's underground lake of death, all clawing elbows and murky bumping into one another in the middle of the final outdoor set of this year's fest. It also makes you appreciate the extra pair of underwear you packed for the fest just in case you got this sweaty. What, you didn't?

Just caught the end of the Nice Boys' set. They play classic feel good punk. There was some argument as to whether it's better dated 1977 or 1981, so we'll split the difference and go ahead and say 1979.

Right after the Nice Boys finished, we heard music coming from the loading dock of one of the adjacent warehouses. I didn't see it myself, but I just got a comprehensive report from Jason, Audio Cinema's webmaster, on what went down. According to him, it was a band called Rainbow and the Kittens, who are friends with Dat'r, playing a gorilla set. Jason shot some video which he reviewed for me.

Here are the facts as we know them: their singer's name is Why Not, their accordion player's name is Ally, and the their drummer was named Shawn and was wearing a horse costume. Their CD (see below), "Rainbow Kitten with Wings" is apparently the "soundtrack to a musical". When they finished, they tried to send people over for the start of Dat'r's set, but the crowd demanded an encore!

Dat'r did finally manage to lure the rest of the crowd over when Rainbow and the Kittens finished up, but we'll have more on that from Ebeth in a bit. In the meantime, here's what Rainbow's CD looks like:

Laura Gibson just played a hypnotizing set to a seated crowd that filled most of the floor in here. Gibson sings what are essentially torch songs (all break-ups and loss) in a warm rich nearly-affect-less voice reminiscent of Canadian chanteuse, Feist. At least for tonight, her ensemble of musical saw, keys, trumpet, and bowed vibes provided the most minimal and tasteful of accompaniment, adding texture to what was at core a solo set. Gibson's music has the kind of near-universal appeal that makes seeing a relatively unknown artist feel like getting in on the ground floor of something. Tonight felt a lot like the last night that you'll be able to say you saw her when.

Well. That was odd. After walking into the venue about a minute before his set started, Robot Ate Me played a barely-there set of endless swells of single-chord acoustic guitar and quite a long period of plain old catatonic silence. There were a few seconds of singing in there but they would have been easy to miss. From one point of view, that was the most disruptive, punk rock thing that's ever happened at the festival. From another, it was the most disappointing. Either way you see it, though, it was certainly strange.

I've returned, I'm refreshed, and I'm ready to go. Unfortunately in my run for a spicy black bean garden burger from Burgerville and coffee from Tiny's I missed Blue Skies for Black Hearts and System and Station. On the upside, I managed to make it back in time for the amazing Blue Cranes. We've been hearing The Cranes described as one of Portland's leading jazz lights and now I know why. They just played the heck out of a bunch of songs, ranging from originals to a cover of Portland mainstay (and PDX Pop alums) The Kingdom to a few standards. Keeping tightly to the charts, The Cranes intersperse wild out wailing with elegant straight ahead melodic soloing. Reed (their leader and alto player) walks that tightrope particularly well, using honks, squawks, and runs to enliven choruses and add dramatic tension to his solos. Their rhythm section drives the whole proceedings with a near-rock style straight beat decorated just the slightest forward-leaning swing.

We're lucky, living in a town so far from New Orleans, New York, LA, and the other centers of American jazz, to have the Blue Cranes and Evolutionary Jass Band (coming up later tonight!) and the other truly excellent original groups that we do.

Ape Shape just threw a pretty rad raggae party outside. We're coming up on our 24th hour of festival pretty soon here and I think my brain's stopped working, so I don't know how much you'll be hearing from me for the next little bit while I try to recover...

Gejius just put on a full on multimedia dance party: anime! smoke! bubbles! breakdowns! vocoderized shout outs!

Ape Shape's already going outside though, so I'm gonna go check that out rather than jabbering any more here.

That was extremely pleasant. Kele Goodwin just finished his set of very well-crafted traditional 60s folk songs. Its really impressive to watch one horn-rimmed glasses-wearing, skinny white tie-wearing guy entrance 100 people with nothing more than a classical guitar and his rich mellow voice. At their best, folk songs like these, that manage to build something dramatic, personal, and catchy out of nothing but the most minimal elements, make all other kinds of music feel extraneous and pushy.

But, on the other, hand Gejius just flipped on his smoke machine and the whole crowd just popped to their feet, so there's probably something exciting going on over there that involves more than just a guitar and a voice. I'm gonna go find out what.

Bright Red Paper play an interesting combination of a bunch of styles. There's a good dose of Godspeed You Black Emperor's epic crescendos, some Phish-style jamming, and Tori Amos-ish vocals. They also brought the first ever cello to PDX Pop as part of their unique ensemble, which also included 5-string bass, guitar drums, and female voice. The mid-afternoon crowd was definitely into it, nodding happily through the set.

Wowsers! Here Comes a Big Black Cloud just finished up an awesome set of Monster Mash-style 'evil' rock, fully decked out with blood and toxic waste splattered outfits, choreographed dancers, gongs, theremins, and a finale that involved giant plastic Godzilla costumes! If you weren't smiling in the last half hour, you probably weren't here.

Those strains of cello probably mean that Bright Red Paper are starting up now, so I'm gonna run...

Just finished a strange and wonderful first hour. While the The Sort Ofs were on stage, it turned out that Libretto wouldn't be able to make it for his 12:30 slot. After scrambling a bit to get in touch with some of our backups, we decided to turn to PDX Pop's best resource: the people of Portland. We put out the call to the crowd for an impromptu open mic and got a great response! PDX Pop's own, Ross Beach, Ben from Meyercord, a gray haired protest singer, and a trembling young dude each played a song a piece, entertaining the crowd with everything from odes to Portland to anti-Bush protest songs.

They turned what could have been an awkward few minutes there into another memorable Portland moment.

Due to the scrambling, I didn't catch enough of The Sort Ofs' set to really do them justice, but here's what they looked like at least: