The announcement struck Seattle with the force of an H-bomb: From this year forward Bumbershoot would be slashed, eviscerated, humbled. Friday was out; it was now a three-day festival. One quarter (or really more like 1/7th because of the non-full-day status of Friday) of the music was gone. We were devastated. You were devastated. There was one question on everybody's mind: HOW WOULD WE SURVIVE?
The answer was not long in coming. In fact, in a turn of events so sinister it makes the Illuminati conspiracy seem like plans for a surprise birthday party, House of Blues announced that its George, Washington-based music festival, Sasquatch!, would triple in length from one measly day to encompass the full-fledged glory of the long Memorial Day weekend. We breathed a sigh of relief. You (we saw you sipping an iced Americano in Zeitgeistâyou looked quite fetching in that little red T-shirt and paint-spattered jeans) breathed a sigh of relief.
There would be barbecue this summer after all. And the mist-drenched COORS LIGHT COOL ZONE! And those veggie burritos that taste like wet cardboard wrapped around an undifferentiated mash of cilantro-spiced baby food. The sunburned fat guy with his shirt off? He'll be there. Perhaps his brother, too. The crocheted-bikini girl with hair to her ass and dirty feet? Check. The father in a Kanye polo who lifts his diapered baby to his pastel shoulders, thus blocking your view of Matisyahu or Colin Meloy? You better believe he'll be there. Drum circles and dancing and bad pot and chicken teriyaki and lines, lines, lines. It's like Bumbershoot East. Except for that guy who plays the spoons. He's not coming. He doesn't go east of the Cascades anymore after that trouble in Omak some years ago.
Yes, Sasquatch! may be just Bumbershoot reheated in the Gorge, a natural setting that Pollstar has designated the best large outdoor concert venue in the UNITED STATES for 9 out of the past 10 years (and it is gorgeous, especially at sunset when the waning light brings out the reds and purples in the rock), but it certainly boasts a well-nigh stunning lineup of acts this year. There's a little something for everyone. For the tall, spectral boy you see smoking clove cigarettes in the alley behind Easy Street: BAUHAUS! For your cute, sweater-wearing nephew who's just flown in from an unexpected rehab stint in Mobile: THE SHINS! For your friend Phil who won't stop whispering in your ear that he's gonna love you just a little bit more, baby: JAMIE LIDELL! For your sister, Melissa, who just stopped wearing all that perfume, but now should perhaps bathe just a tiny bit more: BAND OF HORSES!
It's a treasure trove of musical acts and they can all be found a short three-hour drive east of Seattle on America's backbone, I-90. Short, that is, unless you're trying to get there after work on Thursday when it will take you no less than five hours in stop-and-go traffic the whole way. You may even be stuck behind that Pinto with the "My Other Car Is a Broomstick" bumper sticker or the Lexus SUV with the demure W '04 decal. Perhaps you'll be hungry and stop at a gas station for jo-josâRESIST THIS URGE. There's no time for jo-jos with 80 miles to go and your brother's Suburban beginning to make strange gurgling noises.
No, just move over to the breakdown lane, floor it, and get there. Pay your 40 (!) dollars to camp in the sanctioned lot. Sanctioned as in Tehran. No barbecue, no booze, no fires, no nothing. It's close to the Gorge, though, and close to your fellow 'Squatchers, especially, it seems, that one with the tubercular cough and really bad gas. Alternatively, you could choose one of the lovely motels in Quincy, complete with water stains in the shape of Che Guevara on the ceiling and creepy telephones that ring and ring even though no one's on the other end. Or you could camp for free along the river. This is, of course, illegal and you will probably be shot on sight by the eager Fish and Wildlife "sheriffs" as they like to call each other after lassoing a few salmon poachers.
Sleeping is unnecessary, however, and probably ill advised. Instead, trick your body into thinking you're at SXSW by drinking yourself into a stupor and walking around in flip-flops and your Slacker T-shirt at all hoursâdespite the fact that there will be a 60-degree swing in temperature from midafternoon, when you'll be throwing elbows in an attempt to drink your eight-dollar beers before they boil, to evening, when you'll be huddling with that fat, sunburned guy to ward off the frostbite.
And don't forget that you need sustenance, too. Lukewarm Miller Lite alone cannot fuel 14 straight hours of gyrating, hopping, and spinning around in increasingly dangerous circles on the vertiginously sloping lawn. As a supplement, try the gelatinous strawberry shortcake. Or the pulled-pork sandwich that's been slow-cooked for daysâin the microwave. Or the "pizza." Because the festival is now three days, you'll have a chance to sample every last one of the culinary delights on offer.
Through all the tribulations, however, there is a light that never goes out. And that's the music, which promises to be amazing. With three stages on Saturday and Sunday (Friday has a reduced lineupâBUMBERSHOOT!âmost playing on the main stage), there's really no room to breathe. The festival hasn't announced the timings yet, but you may end up having to choose between Neko Case and Common Market, the Decemberists and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, or Death Cab and Arctic Monkeys. These three days of Sasquatch! are stacked with more good bands than you can find anywhere west of Pitchfork, Chicago. And if you have to endure a little bit of hardship to enjoy it all, well, it just might be worth it. Take it easy in the Cool Zone, though; we've got a long summer ahead of us.
cmccann@thestranger.com
