Review written by Matt Garman

Since we’re being nostalgic, please forgive me while I indulge myself. Marymoor Park was just down the road through all of middle school and high school for me. The site for the Sub Pop 20th Anniversary shows is the very same place I used to play frisbee. I went on more than one long walk with a girl I was convinced I loved there. My friend Paul was caught fucking his girlfriend in the parking lot at Marymoor, by a cop; they were let go. Paul and me actually rode our bikes from Bellevue to Seattle to drop off a demo tape at the Sub Pop office in 1993 or ‘94. (They wouldn’t even accept it from us–I wonder why?) In later years I went to a friends’ family reunion at Marymoor, and snuck off to smoke a bowl in the dog run next to the Sammammish Slough. It’s been since my late 20’s that I’ve wandered around in the fields, and it certainly was the last place I’d expect to find Sub Pop celebrating 20ish years. Walking right back into the same spot for this show was weird.

GRAND ARCHIVES

1:30pm We missed the Ruby Suns, and arrive in time to catch the tail-end of Grand Archives’ set. Walking in past the scalpers, hearing the Byrds-like harmonies lilting through the air, I am immediately reminded of countless hippie music festivals. It’s not the last time today that I will find myself musing on how bands that have a soft, easy-breezy vibe sound even more retro than they already are in this, an outdoor setting.

1:35pm There aren’t a ton of people here yet. I notice Nabil Ayers of the Long Winters strolling around.

1:45pm I bump into my friend Bryan from my college radio days, who is now a high school history teacher, with his seven week old son Asher. He explains that there are lot of kids here, and even more were scurrying around yesterday.

BLITZEN TRAPPER

2:10pm These dudes sound like the Grateful Dead, fronted by Bob Dylan. Bryan says Pavement, and remarks on how funny it is to see a band full of tall duders fronted by a short duder. Hm. Maybe Wilco? It’s good music played by good musicians, just not terribly original.

2:25pm There are no syringes littering the VIP area, which is further proof that the times have changed.

2:35pm Blitzen Trapper’s energetic, dissonant set-closer proves this isn’t solely a retread of the olden days. “Good night, er, goodbye,” says lead singer Eric Earley.

^Kinski

KINSKI

2:40pm Now this is rock. I find myself making the rock face: pursed lips, half-scowl. This band always delivers. Chris Martin remarks, “I don’t know if any of y’all were here yesterday, but I was hammered, so if I said something stupid…..I’m talkin’ to you, Phil Ek!” Is Phil Ek running monitors? One song later Matthew Reid Schwartz adds “Yesterday I was here too–I wasn’t drunk, but I am gonna apologize for anything I said to anybody.” These guys are awfully chatty for a mostly-instrumental band.

FOALS

3:20pm “Hello Seattle. I mean, RED-MUND. Thanks fer leavin’ church early.” The Oxford dance-rock band is the Rapture that got away from Sub Pop, fronted by a Robert Smith soundalike.

3:30pm Their drums sound great–super-tight and tuned to perfection. Every time he hits that snare it CRACKS across the fields. If only they had drum beats that accented something other than two and four.

3:35pm They are having some trouble with their equipment, and the comment is made that they always have trouble with their gear whey they play here. Blame is placed on “the curse of Mt. Reindeer.”

3:45pm Bruce Pavitt is right there in the front part of the audience. When swarthy lead singer Yannis Philippakis switches from guitar to smacking a floor tom (drums really are the focus) for the final song, Pavitt pushes up through the crowd to snap a pic. I admire his true-fan nature.

3:55pm I’m pretty sure Pavitt is wearing flippity-flops. There’s lots of room in the space in front of the stage. No moshing, and everyone has their own lil’ bubble. So polite.

^{Les Thugs}

LES THUGS

4:05pm Breakneck punk rock and zero banter. Finally some real power! They have a film crew, complete with fuzzy boom mic. There are also people playing hackey-sack toward the back. 1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4.

Click the jump to read about No Age, Red Red Meat, Comets on Fire, Green River, Wolf Parade, and more!

NO AGE

4:45pm It's No Wave, really. I kinda don't get this band, and leave it to Grandy to explain them to/for me. They play a Nirvana cover I don't recognize, which means they really did "make it their own," or they are making fun of me for believing them.

5:05pm My girlfriend observes that she's not showing enough boob to fit in here. Admittedly, I have to agree.

5:10pm Stop to chat with KEXP's Quilty 3000 at their booth, and ask her what she thinks of No Age. "I haven't heard the full album yet," she replies. "But…it's happening right now," I say with a gesture toward the stage. "This is it!" She pauses. "I'd have to hear the album." Spoken like a true DJ. I press her on the matter, and she corroborates about the No Wave, noise rock thing.

5:15pm Okay I have to admit that some of these songs are catchy and listenable. It's not all strumstrumstrumstrum/drumdrumdrumdrum.

5:20 College radio Bryan says "they stink even worse live."

RED RED MEAT

5:25pm Two drummers! It's slow, bloozey rock. "We rehearsed for the first time in the whole history of our band for this show. Well, only those last two songs."

5:35pm It's solid music, but again, everything sounds like old Wilco and/or Gram Parsons to me. Rootsgrunge!

5:50pm The smell of weed is noticeably absent. I am not kidding when I say that I never smell weed at any point throughout the day, which at an outdoor festival is bizarre.

^{Comets on Fire}

COMETS ON FIRE

6:05pm Stage presence aplenty from these brohams. Heavy heavy rock with Hendrix inspired licks. Easily the heaviest band so far today–Sabbath, etc. Cock rock!

6:20pm There's some kind of theremin-sounding thing going on here–or pedals or keys or something. Those noisy squalls are the only fucked-up, weird part of the set of otherwise traditional rawk.

6:40pm They have played four songs, each about ten minutes long, one of which "never before heard on this continent." They're informed the set is over, which elicits an angry response from the crowd and shouts of "Noooo!" They knock out one last number in five minutes and call it a day, to an enthusiastic response.

^{Beachwood Sparks}

BEACHWOOD SPARKS

6:45pm So Comets on Fire actually went a little over, and Beachwood Sparks start a bit later than scheduled. I have to admit my regard for how well everyone is sticking to their allotted time, seeing as how this is the only transgression I've witnessed today.

6:46pm Goddammit they sound like Blitzen Trapper, Dylan, the Dead. Tie-dye shirts yo. It's entirely capable countryish rootsy pop stuff. Hippie pop! Gram Parsons! Ryan Adams! The guitarist is wearing a flannel and torn jeans in homage to the good ol' days.

6:55pm I am going to get some Indian food.

6:57pm My girlfriend drops her Indian food on the ground.

7:00pm We safely transport plate #2 of Indian food to a picnic table and nourish ourselves before...

^{Green River}

GREEN RIVER

7:20pm The audience is fervent and ecstatic as Mark Arm screams a capella "come on down to the riiiiiiiiiiiiveeerrrrrrr"–fists pumping in the air, the moshing begins. A rock show erupts in the midst of the Sub Pop 20 festival. They sound terrific, like they never broke up–or rather, like they broke up, got really, really good, and then got back together to stand on faces. Arm, clad in a white/green ringer t-shirt that says "Green River Summer Camps" leans into the crowd, then bends himself the other way, like a grunge Gumby.

7:30pm The audience is sold; Green River owns this stage. Drummer Shumway is in a priest collared shirt.

7:35pm Gossard and Turner appear to be having a grinning contest, fully immersed in the pleasure of playing together again. The looks on their faces are easy to read: "check out this riff, dude!" "No check THIS riff dude!" Infectious enthusiasm.

^{Green River}

7:40pm The people in the corners of the backstage area is almost fully oldsters, bobbing heads and smiling. Crowd surfing keeps happening, over and over. I see a kid who was playing hacky sack earlier roaring as he's passed hand-over-hand.

7:50pm Arm introduces each member of the reverse supergroup, noting the band they were in before Green River: Mr. Epp, the Ducky Boys, Deranged Diction, Spluii Numa…

8:00pm Eventually Shumway himself leaps onto the crowd. Drumsticks fly by the handful overhead, as well as vintage-looking t-shirts hurled by the band members themselves. James Mercer runs out to the edge of the stage, frantically photographic the frothing audience members in front.

8:10pm Brent Cole, editor and publisher of Bellingham's What's Up magazine floats past, beatifically smiling with a crisp Green River tee in hand.

Set List:
Come On Down
33 Revolutions
P.C.C.
Ozzie
Together We'll Never
Baby Help Me Forget*
Leech**
Swallow My Pride
New God
This Town
Ain't Nothing to Do***

^{*Arm: "That song breaks my heart every time."}

**His bandmates grinned as Arm introduced the song as follows: "We wrote this song in 1984. We passed the demo tape around to people we knew, including the Melvins. In Led Zeppelin fashion, the Melvins recorded it and credited it to themselves, making us the Willie Dixon of grunge. But now that we're back together, we've melded the legal power of Pearl Jam and Sub Pop, and we're gonna crush those bastards!" The audience cheered its approval.

*** A modern update to the lyrics: "I'm so sick of radio, even KEXP"

WOLF PARADE

8:25pm The audience is excited for the headliners. The Montreal baroque pop band are, honestly, the most original sounding music performed all day.

8:30pm Many of the oldsters are thinning out the crowd. I see James Mercer chatting with Marty Crandall out on the lawn, looking very much like they are not the secret headliners tonight. There have been rumors of an unannounced band playing after Wolf Parade, all of which proves to be….a rumor. Of course.

8:45pm God this stuff is lovely, the pianoey bounce feels just right for Sunday at dusk. It was good for Sub Pop to close the festival with this band, proving that they remain an eclectic, forward-thinking label, and not simply fodder for nostalgia whores. Sub Pop remains on the edge of what is new.

8:50pm There's Eugene Mirman and Todd Barry!

8:53pm I spot Jonathan Poneman just as Wolf Parade's Dan Boeckner says, "I've said it before and I'll say it again: 1998 has proved to be the best year Sub Pop has ever had." Oops.

8:55pm There's Anna Banana, in a huge t-shirt of a woman's body wearing a bikini! She's also got on a banana shaped fanny pack. She's writing a fashion blog, she says.

8:57pm There's Mark Pickerel!

9:00pm Boeckner: "I can't believe we are playing after Green River. It's an honor. I used to like them in high school."

9:05pm There's Kurt Bloch!

9:10pm I head for the porta potty, along with several members of the audience. As we're doing a number one, we hear from the stage, "I think I convinced them to do an encore. It's okay for me to be up here I have a pass." Peeing guy on my left: "Goddammit!" Peeing guy on my right: "I fuckin' said it!" Peeing guy on my left: "That was Eugene Mirman, too! (pause) C'mooooooon urine!"

9:15pm Dusk, park, car, home. Goodnight, Redmond.

Review written by Matt Garman