Arts in ReviewWatching and Sasquatching

Watching and Sasquatching

This article was published on June 7, 2013 and may be out of date. To maintain our historical record, The Cascade does not update or remove outdated articles.
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Print Edition: June 5, 2013

Sasquatch! Music Festival was founded in 2002. Eleven years later, it has grown into an international sensation, attracting bands and fans from all over the world. Over the course of four days, thousands of people flock between the five stages in a Washington amphitheater known as The Gorge. The gorgeous May weather and the stunning wilderness backdrop make this festival unique, and our five sunburned correspondents will be quick to tell you that Sasquatch! is a multitude of successful elements.

First you have to get there

Tens of thousands of people descending on a single location for a marquee event entails a level of volume, confusion and error-ridden supply shortage only surpassed by natural disasters and foreign invasions.

The solution for most music festivals, city-based editions like Seattle’s Bumbershoot or Austin’s South by Southwest excepted, is to draw this flock of unruly music fans as far away from civilization as possible in hopes that setting up some kind of rural commune will make it easier to prevent the madness from spilling over into the sleepy little town nearby.

What this means for most festival-goers is a lengthy journey to reach the hallowed festival grounds somewhere in the middle of a forest or desert. To my amazement, Sasquatch attracted visitors from as far as Alberta, Ohio and Alaska, if the licence plates in the campground are to be trusted. For us, that meant an internet map estimated five-hour journey from Abbotsford to George, Washington. Our route ended up clocking in closer to eight hours after being detoured around a downed bridge on the I-5 and winding mountain passes through postcard worthy towns like the kitschy Bavarian vacation town Levensworth or the old gold mining haven aptly-named Gold Bar, which features “Prospector’s Plus,” an old-timey storefront that can presumably supply all your pick axe and gold pan needs. “I’mma gonna be rich!” my co-pilot proclaimed, suddenly donning a hat with the brim flipped up and carefully-waxing a nascent moustache.

Long journeys undertaken at 6 a.m. ebb and flow through different periods of excited conversation, intent air guitar mastery, and silent exhaustion. Having commandeered two vehicles for our trip, and having abandoned our cell phones at the promise of gougingly-high roaming charges, we predictably lost track of each other’s vehicles a few hours in. Arriving at the same time was of the utmost importance in order to obtain adjacent campsites. Thankfully, we were reunited by the undeniable pull of Alps chocolate and other candied treats.

NICK UBELS

No brand names, no pants

There is a phrase that describes summer music festival fashion, and it is anything goes.

The weekend flew by in a blur of animal costumes, the occasional tribal headdress, sunglasses printed with the American flag, shorts that could not possibly be any shorter, leggings screen-printed with colourful depictions of far-off galaxies, fedoras, feathers, spikes, capes, gladiator sandals and spray-painted neon clothing.

It dawned on me that, if anything, the people getting judged for their clothing choices were the ones still sporting clothing emblazoned with popular brand names of the real world. I can’t recall seeing a single Hollister or Abercrombie and Fitch logo the entire weekend.

I realized too late that the festival functioned as a sort of fashion get-out-of-jail-free card. I should have brought my cherished and butt-ugly trucker hat, I thought to myself. I should have brought all of my Halloween costumes. I should have brought face paint and purchased a onesie well in advance.

It was comforting and inspiring to realize that no matter what, these nameless crowds of strangers were not judging me by the clothes I wore, most likely because the guy in front of me in line was dressed like a robot.

Favourite sets: Vampire Weekend, Capital Cities, The Lumineers

New favourites: Chvrches, Sean Nelson, Grimes

DESSA BAYROCK

One with the crowd

A crowd can either be a festivals’ greatest strength or greatest weakness. Since festival-goers attend the Sasquatch! Music Festival because they want to see different acts throughout the weekend, each concert has a unique atmosphere to it, and that largely depends on whether the fans are receptive or indifferent. No act is guaranteed an enthusiastic audience like they would at one of their regular gigs.

Artists who have early afternoon set times have the most hurdles to jump. Not only are the crowds likely to be unfamiliar with their material, but they are often exhausted, hungover or still recovering from the previous nights’ headliners. However, Sasquatch! is fortunate to be located in the Pacific Northwest, with the majority of fans coming from Washington, Oregon and British Columbia, a region known for its mild-mannered inhabitantas. Save for a few pushy and insufferable festival-goers, the crowd was surprisingly well-mannered and very focused on the music itself, which is something the artists really seemed to feed off of.

A number of artists even decided to pull out their own favourite covers to engage new listeners. Whether it was their overwhelming reaction to Nick Offerman’s rendition of the Parks and Recreation sing-along “5000 Candles in the Wind,” the Oompa Loompa-style dance that broke out during Elvis Costello’s stellar set, or patiently waiting almost two hours for Tame Impala to clear up issues at customs, the friendly crowds helped create an atmosphere that largely de-emphasized the corporate elements and business-driven side of the festival.

Favourite sets: Divine Fits, Elvis Costello and the Imposters, Preservation Jazz Hall Band, Vampire Weekend

New favourites: Chvrches, Deep Sea Diver, DIIV

TIM UBELS

New live impressions

From two distinct bands at this year’s Sasquatch!, and after 48 hours of live music, I’m left with opposing impressions. The Arctic Monkeys are a band that I’ve always liked from a distance, but I’ve never really informed myself of their background or musical history. The Postal Service, on the other hand, have been one of three bands that I still attribute to being a catalyst for sending me down a path of musical exploration – now 10 years after their only album release.

Midway through the festival The Arctic Monkeys took the main stage. Deciding to go see them since I had liked a couple of their songs, there was something immediately different. Aside from the 1950s slicked hair, which the lead singer had a comb in pocket to keep in place, their sound was so much deeper. There was warmth to it and they just rocked harder. As their set continued, my perception of them had changed; they are a band to see live.

The Postal Service, who closed out the festival and are back together for an extended world tour, left me a little less enthusiastic. While they did have Jenny Lewis with them, a great fibre optic lightshow, and just the fact that I was seeing The Postal Service, it was a weak performance. The biggest letdown was that, while so many other bands killed it at the festival, Ben Gibbard’s voice was below the standard set by the band’s album. But there were also the actual instruments—the Postal Service album that I was familiar with was easy and light—but when performed there was a much greater rock infusion. Finally, there were also some new tracks on the re-issued anniversary album that didn’t match up to expectation. Top that off with a performance that felt more like a day on the job than a performance at a major music festival as part of a reunion, it was ultimately a slight comedown.

The interesting juxtaposition of these two bands that I’m now left with is something that I would not have considered before the festival. But after seeing them live I have one band that I’m excited to see again and another that I no longer have interest in.

Favourite sets: The XX, Mumford & Sons, The Lumineers, Vampire Weekend, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, DIIV, Sigur Ros, Chvrches

New favourites: Built to Spill, Tig Notaro, Sean Nelson, Dirty Projectors, Preservation Hall Jazz Band

JOE JOHNSON

On the road again

Our return drive was perhaps more fraught. The first wave of us decided to return on Monday night thanks to work demands. Taking a break halfway through our journey, we stopped at a rest stop when something caught my attention on one of the maps. Contrary to our mapped route, it seemed as though a right turn onto State Route 9 would take us directly to the Sumas border, shaving off a little distance and potentially avoiding the Memorial Day traffic of the I-5. Little did we know that the road we chose was an unlit, serpentine route weaving in and out of nameless farm land. I have no doubt that every one of our inner monologues read like a horror movie script as we rounded a corner at about 11:30 p.m. to find a middle-aged woman standing on the side of the road, staring intently into the darkness.

After much fear, trepidation, and some of the tightest corners I’ve ever encountered on a supposed highway, we made it back across, thankful to have emerged from the interminable darkness of the number nine with our souls intact.

Favourite sets: Divine Fits, Vampire Weekend, Japandroids

New favourites: DIIV, Chvrches, Deep Sea Diver

NICK UBELS

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