Imaginaries! Sasquatch is right around the corner, and as always, this year’s festival has a little something for everybody. There’s the folky hand-clapping foot-stomping sounds of Mumford and Sons, the reunion of The Postal Service after a ten year hiatus (!), the inescapable hip-hop of hometown favorite Macklemore, and, what’s sure to be an unforgettably epic nighttime set from Sigur Ros. If you’re headed to Sasquatch, you’re likely pretty familiar with most of the big name mainstage acts. Thankfully, in-between all those great headlining sets, there are tons of great acts (many of them hailing from the great Pacific Northwest) to see off on those side stages. Hopefully this list will give you some ideas of who to see while you’re basking in the glory of all that is Sasquatch…

If you’re one of those ambitious types that will be there when the gates open Friday afternoon, you’ll be rewarded by a set from Erik Blood, playing on the Yeti stage at 4:00. Blood is an accomplished local producer, having manned the boards for local hip-hop acts Thee Satisfaction and Shabazz Palaces in recent years. He made lots of noise on his own with his 2009 debut The Way We Live, and followed it up with the equally fantastic Touch Screens in 2012. 

Following Blood on the Yeti Stage at 5:05 is local composer, producer, and orchestral musician Jherek Bischoff. His 2012 release Composed features contributions from the legendary David Byrne, and songs bring to mind some of the eastern European influenced sounds of DeVotchka and Beirut, as well as the orchestral-pop sounds of Hey Marseilles.

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In case you haven't seen it yet, here's this year's Sasquatch! poster -- and it's chock-ful-o' bands we can't wait to witness first-hand this year at the Gorge!! From top to bottom, we're the most over-the-moon about The Postal Service, The XX, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Built to Spill, Bloc Party, Andrew Bird, Tame Impala, Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Father John Misty, The Tallest Man On Earth, Michael Kiwanuka, Shovels and Rope, The Barr Brothers, Menomena, Telekinesis, Elliott Brood, and Sean Nelson (natch). And while those mainstage acts are always killer, we really do love the smaller-font side of the party the most -- some of the best bands in years past have been on the two smaller stages at the top of the hill, and it looks like this year will be no exception.

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We've waxed on and on and on and on and on about All Things Father John Misty: the necessity of owning Fear Fun, the brilliance of the performances, and reason after reason why you need to see this band live to truly appreciate the jam that J. Tillman and Co. have got going on. But on the odd chance you haven't been listening (for shame!), here's a bit of an imaginary highlight reel that will hopefully convince you that this Friday's performance at Neumos is absolutely, hands-down, without-a-doubt the place you need to be.

First, Imaginary Victoria's take on our first listen of the leaked album, way back in February:

It's an incredible departure from anything we've ever heard J./osh Tillman involved in thus far, and a few of our first listens, it almost feel like a sampler of everything he's been waiting to play for the world, and everything we've been waiting to hear but didn't know we needed. Fear Fun is some kind of mad genius that we can't quite find the right adjectives for yet, as we're still waist-deep in absorbing both the lyrical content and sonic experimentation of it all: pure, clear vocals laden over with seventies-esque easy-listening key-change sensibilities and a side of jangly guitar twang, fused together with a full-frontal balls-out sound that takes time to digest and process. This album is smart, complicated, soothing yet uncomfortable, brash yet kind -- it doesn't sound like anything else we know, which leaves us with the overall feeling that Father John Misty just might be the Brian Wilson of the post indie rock set.

And Chris Estey's full review of Fear Fun, our only full "10" of 2012 thus far:

It involves a lot of reading Beats and bards and bohemian travel writers; writing reams of visions and observations and humiliating admissions; listening to a whole lot of great albums from the later Vietnam era created by PTSD-shaken troubadours; perfervidly working on demos with producer/singwriter comrade Jonathan Wilson, and bringing on board Phil Ek to help mix it. Also: treehouse living with spiders, Canadian Shamans who share a little too much intoxicant, Adderall and weed otherwise, a lot of funerals, fumbling drinks, and novels needing to be written as one lives life like a "You take your chances here, pal" roller coaster.

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Monday has come and gone, and we're still having sweet, only slightly-sticky memories of this year's annual Capitol Hill Block Party. This year's was definitely the least hot or humid, making it pleasurable for those of us who aren't too into the sun (no offense to the lovers of the big yellow lava-lump in the sky). Saturday heated up as the musical apex of the fest rose, with Brooklyn's The Psychic Paramount awesome possum-saucing new fans on the Main Stage (and then again at a semi-secret show at unofficial CHBP venue The Comet on Sunday, with a whole bunch of fellow psyche freaks a-jambling).

Special little shows erupting here and there through the fenced-in Broadway neighborhood that surrounds The Stranger offices was a topic of much chatter as we walked between Neumos, the Vera Stage, et. al., to catch the already delightful scheduled line up Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Duff McKagan of Guns N'Roses immortality played a little bass for Walking Papers, a new thang he had swinging in the always-chuffed-and-stuffed bunker of the Cha Cha. There were a lot of other hidden thrills, but this is possibly my favorite Capitol Hill Block Party ever simply because there was so much sweetness going on officially, you couldn't not hear a great band just a few feet away from wherever you stood / swayed / jitterbugged / passed out in a tipple pool. I saw maybe one or two bands that didn't light my fire, but they were up-and-comers and may burn brightly later on when I catch 'em another time.

Now let's get to what was seen and supremely dug, by the EMP's photographer and Tea Cozies' Brady Harvey and myself, since Friday afternoon, July 20:

Father John Misty (Friday, 4 p.m., Main) craftily created a record worthy of an L.A. Wolf King earlier this year, but it was no warmed-over homage to SoCal succubi and champagne made by long-haired millionaires filling up your daddy's and mama's orange crated elpee collections. Josh Tillman perfected a musically appealing (and at times satirically astonishing) journey to the end of the weird scenes in one man's gold-dust mind. There was no reason to think this one-time drummer for the Fleet Foxes wouldn't blow everyone away by loosely, confidently, and joyfully singing the songs from this new persona's one platter oeuvre, but his personableness and professional surpassed expectations. I have never experienced such a warm, welcoming, wowing start to a festival. We were all into the music and J. was into us, his lanky frame curling its upper limbs into the air, pointing at the gods, tearing at the moon's face paint, calling out to friends like Joel Cuplin and Eric Fisher (of Constant Lovers), his band aces all the way. Hey, I could have left the festival then and been pleased as deadly nightshade. But the trip was just starting to ball.

Deadkill (Friday, 4:15 p.m., Neumos) somehow juggles being ferally fearsome with sometimes being really funny (lyrically), reminding me slightly of the late 90s rosetta stone of performance art punk, Raft of Dead Monkeys. But the humor is more reserved, and that is probably the only thing one can describe as reserved about the band, as they make sounds that smell like a Detroit muscle car factory spitting out speed flames. Lead singer Bryan Krieger has tattoos as if he's ready for some mixed Martial arts and a body to match it, and his boys don't slag watching his back in total panther-rock attack. Ecstatic. Great rawk, no holding back. OK, I'll stop "pa-rapping" now.

Crystal Stilts (Friday, 5:15 p.m., Neumos) was good, and made me appreciate them more by seeing them live. No, I am not a fan, but a casual admirer at least. (Put down your shoegaze; don't hit me with their I'm-so-high heels.) There is something about the Stilts' sound that is mesmerizing, but also an aspect that seems like it could be beefed up somehow. Live, it's a wonderful flow -- it moves me more seeing them grind their organs, lurched over stacked keyboards and singing like they're peeved poets at the bottom of an ennui well. Old man flashback: they kind of remind me of Polyrock from back in the very early 80s, being both fuzzily dissonant but also new wave streamlined, and not too concerned with direct listenership connection. 

Doomtree (Friday, 5:15 p.m., Main), on the other hand, which I walked out to from CS, roared and bounced and spun soul music and gave crazy good advice about living and exploded like a firecracker party on a hot asphalt island. You could not help but be pulled in by their thick-groove, big-hearted, Minneapolis funk and flow. Nothing ambivalent about this hip-hop, it's rooted in a head scene but it's sheer body rocking beauty. Dessa's deeply adored for a reason, and I found more than one to feel the whole way about Doomtree this day. How'd I arrive at this jam so late? People were loving this, really loving it.

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Is it mid-July already? Holy shit. That means that the Capitol Hill Block Party is here, and there are a couple of things that will be crucial to keep in mind as you head out this weekend to inundate yourself with sun, buddy hangs, and set after set of live music.

One, if the weather stays in our favor {right now Saturday and Sunday are looking like 74 and clear!} you'll need plenty of sunscreen -- for full coverage of your fair PNW skin, folks, it's best to put it on before you leave the house. (Wait, who let my mom in here? Ahem.) Two, if you're knocking back tons of a few drinks over the course of the day, don't forget to hydrate properly. Water = your BFF. Three, for some reason, the ATMs that are loaded up in the "festival grounds" seem to all run out of money at the same time -- so make sure you pick up cash before you head in. And four, try as you might, you can't catch every band on every stage, and that's why you should take our picks with you to make sure you don't miss the best of the fest:

Must-see #1: Lemolo {8:30pm, Vera Stage // Saturday, also at 3:30pm on the Barboza Stage for KEXP}

We can't get enough of Lemolo, and we've waxed on and on about their live shows, their video, and most recently their full-length album, The Kaleidoscope. With two back-to-back sold out shows for the album's release a few weeks ago, most of Seattle has caught the buzz about what makes this duo great -- but if you haven't yet, make sure to get yourself in front of the Vera Stage for their 8:30pm set on Saturday for a slice of their one-of-a-kind shreddy indie dreamscape bliss. Lemolo will also be playing on the Barboza stage at 3:30pm as part of KEXP's Block Party setup, similar to the secret lounge at Bumbershoot. Two shots to catch them = no excuses!

Must-see #2: Father John Misty {4pm, Main Stage // Friday}

Another performer we'd be surprised to see missing from your non-negotiable list is Father John Misty, a brilliant incarnation of everything you didn't know you needed in your new favorite band. It's a part rock, part thrust, part hip-swinging croon that manages to embody a well-read version of a great high (but maintains enough edge to keep you guessing). As if being a killer percussionist, a tremendous vocalist, and an all-around genius aren't enough, Josh Tillman is insanely hilarious -- for those of you who didn't catch it the first time around the tubes, this interview is nothing short of brilliant:

Fuck you, Joe!

Must-see #3: Alicia Amiri {as herself at 5:45pm, Cha Cha Stage // Friday, as Nightmare Fortress at 2pm, Neumos Stage // Saturday}

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Let's jump right in: I'm torn between starting this post with "this Lemolo album is seriously haunting me" and "Lemolo could totally beat up your favorite synth-y indie dream-core band" because they're both true. In the case of the former, I find myself humming harmonies absentmindedly at varying points in my days and nights, wondering what the song is -- and then realizing it's a track off of The Kaleidoscope; and the case of the latter, the lyrics are smarter and more gripping than anything I've heard in this genre before, and the emotion-pendulum they swing on is more vast.

Whichever way you slice it, The Kaleidoscope is a keeper. It'll be your new go-to for warming up, coming down, pondering, soundtracking, arriving, leaving, making out, and everything in-between. The album as a whole is intelligent and tight, meandering over to casually shred your face off in one moment and placing it's hands directly on your heartstrings the next. There's such a big-yet-right-in-the-next-room feeling that pervades from start to finish, and it would be easy to make comparisons like 'Beach House with a better edge!' or 'Phantogram with less dance party and more smart-kid!' but we'd be doing Lemolo an injustice by saying so. Instead, I'll fine-tune it a bit and say that this album holds up to the landscape of Washed Out's "Feel It All Around" {one of my favorite dream-jam tracks} and the brilliance of a portion of the Broken Social Scene catalog {"Sweetest Kill" and "Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl come to mind}, while still standing apart with a tone and center all it's own.

Every single song has a piece in it somewhere that punches us square in the gut, in the very best of ways. "On Again, Off Again" is the big single from the album, and of course there's the "Open Air" video... it's great to finally hear tracks from shows put to waxdisc, like those two, "Who Loves" and "Whale Song" -- but "Move Me" is taking the proverbial cake at the moment. "Move Me" wraps the listener around the axle with the line that repeats I don't / want to / be away / from you / too long, and coincidentally enough, that's exactly how we feel about this album (and this band in general, PS).  I'd strongly encourage every single one of you reading this to be sure and catch Lemolo at Columbia City Theater this Friday and Saturday, but both shows are sold out. You'll just have to get yourself over to the Capitol Hill Block Party for a chance at taking in a live set.

While the Lemolo release and this next one have nothing to do with each other, they both hit my stratosphere in the same week, and so I've taken them in at the same time -- and as a result, there has definitely had a yin-and-yang effect taking place. When I'm all full-up on Lemolo's smart soundscape-y vibes, I shift my attention to my other favorite thing of the moment, the equally smart yet sonically-opposite Foreign Spells {the new Young Evils EP}. Foriegn Spells is short, to the point, and provides an excellent sampler-pack of songs that show the direction the band is headed in. While we've made no secret here in the imaginary office about how much we loves us some Enchanted Chapel, we're double-down excited about the new tunes that the Young Evils have seen fit to bestow us with, especially now that we've got "Darker Blue Bayou" in the flesh and can add it to the next mix we make. With the last release as evidence to compare and contrast against, the songs seem smarter, darker, fuller, and more concise -- the EP really shows the listener the difference between a bright idea and more of a fully-formed realization of what these stellar musicians are capable of. And while Foreign Spells is totally killer on the stereo, as is the case with many other bands, we think these lady-and-gents do their best work live -- so be sure to get yourself to the formal release party at Barboza next month, on July 13th.

There have been a handful of tracks that are making their way onto mixes of late, and a few doing repeat duty, so I thought it best to mention them as well if we're talking about what's been filling our imaginary ears and iPhones with happiness. Some are new-new, some are new-to-me, and some are just new in that they were buried at the bottom of the stack and recently found their way back up into heavy rotation.

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From the "duh, obvsies" file: you're not going to want to miss Father John Misty this Monday night at Neumos.

On the heels of a killer Letterman performance {above} and rave reviews for the new album, Fear Fun, FJM is in the middle of taking their show on the road. They'll be stopping in our fair city with the third show of the tour, which extends for much of the rest of the month and covers Canada, the northeast and a few stops down south -- and if you're lucky enough, they'll be stopping somewhere near you.

In case you have been living under a rock haven't heard about Fear Fun yet, here's a few snippets to start your landscape: first, our full album review, where Chris Estey describes the sound as "...a lot of reading Beats and bards and bohemian travel writers; writing reams of visions and observations and humiliating admissions; listening to a whole lot of great albums from the later Vietnam era created by PTSD-shaken troubadours; perfervidly working on demos with producer/singwriter comrade Jonathan Wilson, and bringing on board Phil Ek to help mix it. Also: treehouse living with spiders, Canadian Shamans who share a little too much intoxicant, Adderall and weed otherwise, a lot of funerals, fumbling drinks, and novels needing to be written as one lives life like a "You take your chances here, pal" roller coaster."

And our initial report, after my first sighting of "Hollywood Forever Cemetary Sings," and a trip around the soundscape of the leaked version of FF: "...over the last few days we've been wrapping our ears around the internet leak of the new album by Father John Misty, nee Josh / "J." Tillman {formerly of the Fleet Foxes}. Fear Fun will be out in early May on Sub Pop, and it's going to be one we pick up on vinyl in triplicate for sure: it's an incredible departure from anything we've ever heard J./osh Tillman involved in thus far, and a few of our first listens, it almost feel like a sampler of everything he's been waiting to play for the world, and everything we've been waiting to hear but didn't know we needed. Fear Fun is some kind of mad genius that we can't quite find the right adjectives for yet, as we're still waist-deep in absorbing both the lyrical content and sonic experimentation of it all: pure, clear vocals laden over with seventies-esque easy-listening key-change sensibilities and a side of jangly guitar twang, fused together with a full-frontal balls-out sound that takes time to digest and process. This album is smart, complicated, soothing yet uncomfortable, brash yet kind -- it doesn't sound like anything else we know, which leaves us with the overall feeling that Father John Misty just might be the Brian Wilson of the post indie rock set."

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How does a Seattle boy deal with a debilitating dose of depression and then some newfound creative sparks in Los Angeles? (J./Joshua) Tillman {formerly of the Fleet Foxes} shows a gripping, glistening way how on his debut as Father John Misty, Fear Fun. It involves a lot of reading Beats and bards and bohemian travel writers; writing reams of visions and observations and humiliating admissions; listening to a whole lot of great albums from the later Vietnam era created by PTSD-shaken troubadours; perfervidly working on demos with producer/singwriter comrade Jonathan Wilson, and bringing on board Phil Ek to help mix it. Also: treehouse living with spiders, Canadian Shamans who share a little too much intoxicant, Adderall and weed otherwise, a lot of funerals, fumbling drinks, and novels needing to be written as one lives life like a "You take your chances here, pal" roller coaster.

It's tempting to hang it all on the inspiration of Laurel Canyon, the scene where Wolf Kings of the Hills wither in manses face down in champagne-drenched mink. Tillman ended up there, and it has not only resurrected the creativity of a drummer-loner in a highly successful but probably very hard-to-be-heard-in band, but also given the world a full-length that will make many best-ofs this year (just wait and watch). Besides that, for those who find other bands under the CSNY-dew sparkling umbrella gimmicky and merely lovely at best, Tillman's truly glorious vocals, completely unpredictable lyrics, and joyfully creative multi-layered music is probably going to convert many on the sidelines of this genre.

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It was a great long weekend for sight and sound as we took in some goings-on around Seattle, the most notable of which was the release party for Damien Jurado's Maraqopa this past Friday at the Neptune. Sharing the bill with Gold Leaves and Bryan John Appleby, Jurado and the most recent incarnation of his band sold out our newest favorite venue to an attentive, appreciative crowd. Maraqopa {which is officially out today}, his latest brand of soundscape, is the perfect blend of everything we've come to love about Damien Jurado's work, packaged in a collective series of sounds we've never quite heard from him before. There's a little bit on Maraqopa for everyone: it's part singer-songwriter, part freak-folk, part guitar-shredding psychedelia heaven, and fourteen other different kinds of good. {Read a little more about what we've heard and adore about Maraqopa thus far here.}

Here's a few shots from Friday's show:

Another knock-it-out-of-the-park win this weekend was the screening of Fever Year, the documentary that followed Andrew Bird along for a seemingly insane 180-date tour a few years back. As avid fans, we've seen everything from those early 2000s shows where six fellow attendees stood in rapt appreciation to bursting-at-the-seams capacity nights from this most recent grueling tour {including a sold-out show at the Paramount and a set for a few thousand people at Austin City Limits in 2009} -- and it was an absolute delight to see every facet of Andrew Bird's career represented so brilliantly in this film. Historical flashbacks to his Bowl of Fire days fused together perfectly with recent tour clips and an incredible glimpse of his on-, off- and backstage life, all of which blended together into a gorgeously intimate eighty-minute portrait of the Andrew Bird of today. The mini-doc was warmed up perfectly by the screening of the Fleet Foxes' The Shrine / An Argument, an absolute delight to take in -- both visually on the big screen and as it poured out of the theater's state-of-the-art soundsystem.

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