It took me a week to get my brain back from Pickathon, which seems a good place to start. I thought maybe I’d left it back in the barn or deep in the woods, or wherever I’d left my voice recorder. But alas, it had merely been blown out of my head and was dangling behind me like a tail. Nice image, eh? It’s all pulled back in and zipped tight now, and I’m happy to report it’s still filled with images from Pendarvis Farm.
For example, there was the best-of-the-weekend set from John Doe & the Sadies Saturday night in the barn. I already alluded to this in my wrap-up of Day Two. But now, a week later, with some perspective and a little rest between me and that performance, I can confidently say it stole the show. Close behind it was Thao with the Get Down Stay Down earlier the same night on the side stage. Samantha Crain & the Midnight Shivers delivered a number of remarkable performances throughout the weekend, including Crain’s solo turn with the now-NYC-based Justin Townes Earle (who still introduces himself as “Justin Townes Earle from Nashville, Tennessee,” which is fine with me because he sounds good saying it).
Earle’s performances were slightly less wound-up than I’ve become accustomed to seeing him over the last few years. They were hardly disappointing, just clearly affected by the inscrutable heat and pace of the weekend. Back in the woods, though, we all found a bit of cool repose, surprised and soothed by some of the most memorable performances from Laura Gibson, Horse Feathers, Vetiver, and CW Stoneking. While I heard tell of Hillstomp blowing minds in the woods, I somehow managed to miss that entirely. There are always some brilliant moments missed at festivals like this, as it’s impossible to be everywhere at once. I can only resolve to make it to the woods for Hillstomp’s set next year, should the powers that be schedule such a thing.
Joe Pug was a pleasant surprise (I had previously been unfamiliar with his work). A pleasant and charming guy riddled with sad, heartbreaking tunes which give you no option but to sit, spellbound. Lost Bayou Ramblers drew my attention away from Blitzen Trapper’s mainstage headlining spot. Although the Portland quintet - who have been charming critics and fans around the country, convincing everyone yet again that the Northwest is where everyone’s focus should be - were one of the acts I was most excited to see at the beginning of the weekend, I managed to miss their every move. Saturday night, they were scheduled for a late set in the barn, but were 40 minutes late. At the end of one of the hottest days of the year, when the music started at 11am and spanned the full day across four different stages, standing around in a hot-as-a-pressure-cooker barn for an extra 40 minutes past 1 in the morning seemed silly. I called it a night and fell asleep to an understated, unexpected song circle singing quietly near my tent.
Pickathon’s finest task is managing a lineup which ranges from the quietly touching (Laura Gibson) to the unabashedly rocking (Thao with the Get Down Stay Down), the honky-tonking (Dale Watson, whose barn set far outshone his more polished turn on the mainstage), and the downright weird (Breathe Owl Breathe, which was scheduled either too early in the day or too late in the weekend for me to pay attention, considering all the hand motions and whatever else was going on with them). While I heard more than once that the three-day festival’s line-up had been more hard-hitting and confluent in previous years, there also seemed to be a consensus from the returning crowd that this year was a much more rollicking time. Indeed, the festival, which started as a one-day bluegrass and old timey festival 11 years ago, this year only presented a very small handful of bluegrass bands (best among them, North Carolina-based Town Mountain). The focus now is on indie roots music - a field still emerging and still seeking definition.
There are few places where so many styles of Americana could flow so neatly into one another, where a medium-sized crowd could so effortlessly pour into a workshop barn to earnestly seek songwriting guidance from up-and-coming artists. Pickathon is one such place. It’s a good thing it only happens once a year. It may take until next August for my brain to be ready for such a party again.