Moses Campbell –  

The crusaders, lost in their gaze with the sun, forever marching forth, blindly following the sound of their own voices, always chanting and proclaiming that their destination is a village their parents told them about when they were children. The thing is, the members of Moses Campbell, are still fairly young – old enough to captivate an audience at the Fold Stage, but still not allowed to drink in public. They have their initials firmly carved on the walls at the Smell and so they carry with them that banner of unrefined professionalism, popping on their heels, but always keeping in tune with their howling towards the sun.

Dawes –  

Dawes certainly cut their teeth while on tour – they’re the type of band to fall, hit the pavement and then write an apology to the road and then they would be grateful for the experience. They certainly sound like grizzled veterans and they shined like great grandmothers of folk at the closing of Saturday night at the Fold Stage (great grandmothers, because they tell stories while growling about the inequalities of life and the dumb luck they’ve had). Here’s to hoping that they never settle down and get a chance to catch their breath – don’t let their gosh-darn-modesty fool you, they cut through the crowd like some of the best sing-a-long troubadours.

Dãm-Funk – 

A few moments before Dãm-Funk took to the Bates Stage, there were lots of tapings on mics, snare drums were tested and the crowd became unruly. But lead singer Damon came out and began to croon into the mic, “This will take just a few more minutes,” in his best singsong voice, serenading the entire crowd. Not many guys can come out and say, “give us 5” and melt panties and make bros go, “I’m cool with that.” And lets not forget the keytaur. There were times when his voice, the instrument at his hip and the percussions behind him fought for the foreground and then it would dissipate and all would be forgiven as the keytaur soared. At times Damon would throw it over to the drums or the keyboards to his back. He’d promise we were going to outer space and knobs were turned and synths would ripple throughout the crowd and yes, space debris did hit a few people.

Saint Motel –  

The way Saint Motel’s songs flow is a lesson in logic – there are questions asked and it’s very quiet and when there is no response from the clouds, they rip into the chorus. Los Angeles has been their nest for quite some time and you’d think that another show in this city would become a stale chore. But these guys, sporting white topes and whatever-feels-good-that-day-bottoms, exude a gleeful, wild attitude, like they’re going to be doing it until something from the clouds comes down and tells them otherwise.

White Apple Tree – 

These guys had to open Saturday – not an easy task. The blistering sun, the miniscule crowds, promoters tugging on banners while the band tries their very best to play. Now, White Apple Tree hit a few more bumps – one of them being that their drummer couldn’t catch his stick after he would toss it up in the air. This was funny the first time, but eye rolling after the third time. But what about the music? Blitzy/sunny pop type of music - a reminder of what the 90s did, but bordering on saccharine overdose. Again, they had to open the whole thing and who wants to be the first in class to say what they did during their summer?

Evelyn Champagne King – 

What fun we had when Evelyn Champagne King began to grind the leg of her guitarist. We made eye contact. Yes, it was debauchery incarnate, what with every note from her backup singers or the keyboards causing Evelyn Champagne King some sort of blissful rapture. The skintight pants helped. The Hoover Stage was never the same when she belted out “Love Come Down” straight out of a time warp, for all our listing pleasures.

Ohio Players – 

Let it be said: Ohio Players don’t mess around when it comes to delivering what the people want. They have the rhythm and motion that teases the ladies, but when they came jumped onto the Hoover stage and ripped into Skintight, people lost it – the horns, that drum snare, and that crazy bass line that just floats all about the place. They hail from an era when ladies were merely the subjects of songs and the members of Ohio Players, nearing their 50th year as a band, are still as harmonized as any of the newer bands. They might take a few more hours to get to the stage, but how can you complain when these legends are going “Na na Na na” into the night air?