Yesterday's poll is now closed and the great shot of Jaguar Love won, getting 38% of the votes! Watermelon4linz will get a pair of weekend passes to this year's Bumbershoot (I hope you'll be taking pictures there too).

I know I sound like a soccer mom when I say this, but all the shots were really, really great. And thanks again to everyone who shared their photos in the Stranger Flickr Pool--I think every second of Block Party got caught on film/memory card.

See all the finalists here, browse through the Stranger's Flickr Pool here.

Barf fees were discussed previously. Some Block Party goers need to pay up.

For whoever cleaned, respect and thank you.

For whoever dropped their plastic cups in the shitter, when you die, you’ll go to a place where you spend eternity in a neck deep version of the toilet you destroyed.

Two pictures for your viewing pleasure after the jump.

Look at the photos posted after the jump, and then vote for your favorite in the poll. The poll will close at noon Tuesday.

Good luck, and thanks to everyone for sharing their photos with us!

Which Photo Is Your Favorite?

1. “The Ride of Your Life” by Gift of Gab
2. “They Call Me” by The Physics
3. Track 4 by Dyme Def
4. "Power of Words" by Siren's Echo
5. "And All My" by Siren's Echo

^{photo by Lance Mercer}

"Kimya thought I was trying to take a picture up her skirt and called me a 'dirty bitch'."

^{photo by Jenny Jiménez}

Lots more photos after the jump...

Musically, Saturday was a big improvement over Friday for me. I saw more bands, and the bands I saw were better. No one’s mentioned it yet, so I’ll go ahead and say the Cave Singers played a beautiful, spare set. Frontman Pete Quirk was feeling it, too: Near the end, he said to the crowd, “I feel like I could tell you guys anything.” Awww.

Fleet Foxes made it to the next level of consciousness, and Grand Ole Party rocked despite headset mic problems— yeah, that’s the band in which the frontwoman drums and sings simultaneously. They were also the most symmetrical band I’ve ever seen— drummer/singer front and center, two guys (who looked they could be brothers) in blue shirts on either side, playing matching guitar and bass. If only the guitarist had been left handed…

Finally, and not to rant, but if there’s two 21+ stages next year, I think CHBP should consider selling discounted tickets to the underagers. It’s not that you see less music, but you have half the choices while paying the full price. Unfair.

Less concentrated was Chromeo, who had a longer slot than most other acts. It's almost impossible to hate Chromeo. They're too inoffensive, too friendly, and look like they're enjoying themselves too much to inspire much wrath, even if they aren't your thing. Nowhere near Girl Talk's insanity, but plenty of dancing in the sunshine all the same.

Video from Chromeo

The highlight of the day was Grand Ole Party over on the Vera Stage. I only caught the last few songs of their set, but the lead singer's voice is completely captivating, and the fact that she's able to do that while drumming is nothing short of incredible. Everyone at that stage was sucked into this vortex of soulful rock (let's get them on a bill with Thee Emergency, ok?). They were so good that sold out of CDs after their set. This is definitely one to watch.

Video from Grand Ole Party

After a quick stop by The Saturday Knights and a break, I came back in time for Chromeo's afterparty DJ set. Holy hell, that was a good time. Unlike Friday's afterparty, this one surpassed the day's generally sedate mood. No people on stage for this one, but everyone in the audience was dancing while Chromeo banged it out. I wasn't sure if they'd just be playing a set of Hall & Oates or soemthing, but they played some pretty choice blog house/electro. FourColorZack closed out the night with a selection of party favorites. Around three I finally made the trek home, as the night crew worked to clean up the mess from the weekend (more recycling next year please).

Video from the Saturday Knights
All of my pics

But the most fun I probably had was at Jay Reatard's performance on Friday- goddamn that guy can throw down! We all know it was hard as shit to get from point A to B at the CHBP 90% of the time- but when I realized he was coming on, the stars aligned and the wind hit my back. It felt like I took a liquored-up luge from the beer garden to the front of the Neumos stage where Reatard was ripping through something intense off of Blood Visions. It was a hairy situation- the bass player had kind of a young King Buzzo thing going on and the Reatard himself was hidden behind a Hessian veil of curls. Now I'm too damn old and fat for the pit but I was super-juiced off of (free whiskey and) Jay's brand of catchy-ass metallic punk-skronk so I had to do it. I slid around and jumped and lifted some kid's leg. I pounded on some cat's back like we were old friends and crashed into the bar manager from Chop Suey. My old Chucks were absolutely massacred. It was glorious. Note to hiphop heads: never wear new kicks to a festival.

I cannot disagree with the fact that everyone inside King Cobra seemed to be enjoying themselves, though.

The Loved Ones felt like the black sheep of the weekend to me--boom-chucka-boom punk rock from Philly on the same bill as Chromeo, Girl Talk, and Vampire Weekend? Really? I'm so glad they were there, though. The Loved Ones continue to be a band best experienced in person. The records just can't capture their humor and enthusiasm.

They play riotous pop punk with anthemic sing-a-long choruses. Their lyrics are about being drunk and broken-hearted, and singer Dave Hause delivers his poetic phrases with a worn and guttrral holler (think Hot Water Music's Chuck Ragan). After blasting through stuff from both the old and new record, and stealing sips of beer from the audience's bottles, they closed with "Louisiana." On record, that songs bores me. But it's so much fun live, when you can stomp, clap, and yell along with the repetitive lyrics "They're pounding nails in Louisiana..."

After a fun performance like that, they weren't out of place at all on the dance packed bill.

Upload your photos to the Stranger's Flickr Pool. Some of the best shots will be posted on Line Out tomorrow morning, readers will vote for their favorite, and the winner will get weekend passes to Bumbershoot!

One bummer about Block Party—a bummer that's endemic to any big festival, really—is that there will always be two things you want to see at exactly the same time, if not three things. So it was that I ditched out on Chromeo, who are always a treat live, after just a few songs to go watch Throw Me the Statue inside Neumo's. Yes, they're local, and I can see them all the time, but Throw Me the Statue's Moonbeams is one of the best records to come out of Seattle this past year, and the band are easily in my top five or so of local acts. Scott Reitherman's songs are clever as hell, perfectly poppy while still being lyrically somewhat abstract. And they're a lot of fun live. (Plus, what's going to top that completely bananas Chromeo show at the War Room?)

I had a "but if you're here, and they're there" moment before the band started, when I caught their now former bassist hanging out in the crowd instead of onstage. They split amicably, he says, and the new bassist brought some extra keyboards to the band, so that's a plus. The band also had its sometimes horn section on hand for the show to add brass to songs like "Groundswell," "Take It Or Leave It," "Moonbeams," and "Yucatan Gold." There were some good signs for Throw Me the Statue last night: Neumo's was packed, the crowd cheered at the mere soundchecking of the band's glockenspiel, and I overheard a couple girls trying to deduce a band members' name so they could shout it and win his attention. Also a good sign: the band played a new song, called "Parade," which sounded perfectly radio ready (duh, their set was being broadcast live on KEXP, after all): a mid-tempo track with a big, octave-effected chorus pierced by squealing electric guitar feedback. The band isn't perfect live—the sort of flatness that makes Reitherman's vocals so intriguing on record doesn't always come across right live, and he hit one off falsetto on one song—but the strength of the songs more than make up for any rough spots. Reitherman is just a phenomenal songwriter, and "About to Walk," "Young Sensualists," and "Lolita" (despite the fact that I can't bear its opening couplet) remain the total fucking jams. It's also worth mentioning that their drummer is a beast, busying his steady backbeats with aggressive little fills and flourishes (also, I think those girls might have been talking about him).

Some blame the sound guy for the long wait, some blame the fact the band has fog machines, lights, six keyboards and synths, live drums, and at least two guitars to set up. Still, it was apparent both teams were clashing when, finally ready to play, the band asked Soundguy to turn off the lights. He refused, shaking his head from the soundbooth. They asked again, unable to start until the lights were off (they have their own, it's part of their live experience). He finally obliged but not without flipping them off first. Classy, dude.

With the lights out and the first notes hit, the crowd burst with cheers and applause. Most people there, myself included, were waiting nearly 45 minutes or more--it's too bad they only got to play four songs.

It took over half the short set for the band to hit their stride--they were obviously stressed, pissed about the fact they couldn't use fog machines (despite the fact they cleared it two weeks in advance, they explained from the stage), and as a result the songs felt rushed.

But when they started "In Parallel," things fell into place--even without the fog enveloping them, their performance was still striking. The music was loud (maybe a little louder than it needed to be), and the band started going off--guitarists thrashed more than I've ever seen 'em thrash, the drums were hit harder than ever. A little anger does these boys good.

At the end of the set, in a mini-hissy fit, they knocked over the drums and threw a keyboard down. They were pissed. Obviously. And they should've been. You need more than 15 minutes with a band like Sleepy Eyes of Death. Their show is an experience, something that you have to get a little lost in. As soon as they hit their stride, the house lights went up, and the crowd filed back out into the sun.

It was my only bummer of the whole weekend.