Scenes from Georgetown Music Festival

Festival review |

Editor's note: The setting at last weekend's Georgetown Music Festival, according to one of the Seattle Times' appointed bloggers, Jonathan Zwickel: "Old brick buildings, narrow back alleys, 38 bands, three outdoor stages and two inside Jules Maes. A wildly diverse crowd, from punk-rock tweens to fanny-packed Boomers to bearded, tatted locals, plus dogs and babies. A supremely low-key atmosphere, far from the sweaty hipster crush of Block Party or the milling throngs of Bumbershoot. Sun. Beer. Beer in the sun! Almost like summer!" Here are a few excerpts from our hour-by-hour online reporting. Find the whole shebang at www.seattletimes.com/festivalblog.:

Friday, 6:42 p.m.

The sun started shining as moody three-piece rock band Megasapien played the Ranier stage. Megasapien's singer is a petite woman who both plays guitar and sings like Jeremy Enigk from Sunny Day Real Estate, '90s NW pioneer of what is now called "emo" rock. As people put on sunglasses, she murmered verses and threw her voice off cliffs for big power-chord choruses. It was slow, heavy rock engineered to sound like there was a tight emotional coil underneath its surface.

Andrew Matson

Friday, 8:21 p.m.

Cancer Rising got Georgetown Music Fest's crowd going like no other group so far. Thirtysomething couples leaned into each other's ears and repeated clever lines they picked up. CR rapped about Seattle things Seattle people know about like Ezell's fried chicken and "rollin' Rainier" Avenue, and that brought smiles to all ages of faces on the street and in the nearby packed beer area.

A.M.

Friday, 10:10 p.m.

I talked to Stefan Schachtell, one of Georgetown Music Fest's promoters, and he estimated 800 people showed up today. It looked like at least 400 stayed for headliner Helmet, and they all knew what they were getting into. Guys in their thirties slammed into each other near the stage, grimacing while fiercely shaking their heads. Helmet pounded out pulverizing jams and the crowd reacted like they'd been waiting for it forever.

A.M.

Saturday, 2:24 p.m.

First band of the day was the Lonely Forest, a pop-rock trio from Anacortes with emo-ish tendencies. The crowd at the Rainier Stage matched the band in looks and age and familiarity with each other. "Hi everybody!" the bassist said from the stage. "Hi Eric," everybody replied. We're all friends here.

Jonathan Zwickel

Saturday, 4:02 p.m.

It's impossible to describe how odd/cool it is to be watching a band — Shim's well-honed horndog classic rock, for example — play an outdoor set in the sun when out of nowhere

ZZZZZZZHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMM

A low-flying biplane buzzes a couple hundred feet over your head.

And then

HHHHHHHHRRRRRRRNNNNNNNN

A semi rolls down the on-ramp right behind the stage.

The world turns as Georgetown rocks on.

J.Z.

Saturday, 8:59 p.m.

A scrappy bunch if there ever was one, the Lashes looked like Georgetown Music Festival: guys who don't shave often wearing aviator shades and tight pants. ... Their set was rock as dance music, rock as party.

And with that, I left Georgetown. Detroit-souding local blues-rock band Thee Emergency were still yet to headline, but I'd been at GMF since noon. What can I say? My dogs were barking.

A.M.