Alt-country cornerstone No Depression folded its magazine operations in Seattle a year ago. Naw, it ain't dead: Now the mag is a “bookazine,” releasing two softbound, tabloid-sized books per year full of longer-form profiles and features about folk, roots, blues and twang. The first was a dud, complete with a feature on Hanson (come on, dudes), but the second (and most recent) edition's longer, vinyl crate-diving features got the hang of what a half-book, half-mag should feel like.

I was anxious about that “second time's the charm” curse when arriving at Saturday's No Depression Festival in Redmond's Marymoor Park. A barely living publication putting together a new fest with years-dormant folkie Gillian Welch as its headlining draw, and at $45 a ticket? Turns out it was the right price for a large crowd of girls in summer dresses, bearded redheads hiding in the ample shade, old folks trying to dance and tiny kids wailing during the quiet parts of songs. The hundreds-strong crowd spread blankets across Marymoor's field to eat up a show as much about country comfort as it was the pleasant surprises.

A little bit country, a little bit rock 'n roll, the lineup at No Depression's first fest danced between the quietest and loudest of the roots spectrum. As expected, not much diversity; even the Malaysian artist who opened, Zee Avi, sounded like another shy folk-pop girl getting bewildered at the Tractor (but, then, I'm not the kind to call a ukelele “exotic”). Thankfully, the early crowd was rewarded with the second act: the All-Star Revue, an assemblage of talented local hands—particularly ringleader Jeff Fielder on guitar—backed up a number of local singer-songwriters, each getting one song's worth of time to do a cover of choice. Perfect way to digest a whirlwind of locals, each packing their best into only one song, and Sera Cahoone's turn behind the mic was the highlight, turning a 180 on her sleepy, forgettable solo material to give Hank Williams' “You Win Again” a new kind of sweet sorrow.

Justin Townes Earle was perhaps the most No Depression-y artist of the day, fast-pickin' his guitar and rambling on with country-boy stories between train-hoppin' bluegrass songs while backed by a multi-instrumentalist buddy with a keen approach to harmonica. “Ladies-n-gentlemen,” he said with a Crisco-slicked drawl, then held up his hand, “my thumbnail is being held on by Superglue.” The summer dress nation was enthralled by Earle's ramshackle charisma—and hey, after he did that sugar-sweet take on The Replacements' “Can't Hardly Wait,” I considered letting him butter me up, too.

The bearded guys' hearts weren't left intact, either, thanks as much to Jessica Lea Mayfield's somber songwriting as her brother's masterful Gretsch, its tone hefty in the open, sparse mix. Bloody, echoey, yet somehow clear, his guitar play—and vocal harmonies—were the over-the-top difference between “yet another country-tinged songwriter on MySpace” and the kind that can win over a fan for life, particularly with the Neil Young-ian guitar meltdown of “I Can't Lie To You, Love” at set's end.

It was those earlier sets, full of kids with something to prove, that proved most memorable at this first-ever NDF fest. Jesse Sykes' solid performance wasn't enough to stop her sound guy from yawning. Sam Beam forgot lyrics quite a few times and rambled between songs like he'd left his brain behind in Portland. To be fair, his story about babies not believing in God was pretty hilarious, and his rendition of "The Trapeze Swinger," expected as it was, still silenced the hell out of the crowd. Patterson Hood was on hand for a Drive-By Truckers spin-off of sorts, called The Screwtopians, meaning he'd left behind his famed band's sing-along barn-burners in exchange for more standard Skynyrd-ian fare (though his set was saved by bandmates busting out their own songs, particularly Will Johnson's “Just To Know What You've Been Dreaming”).

In spite of this quality drop-off, and the auspicious decision to have the quiet Gillian Welch follow the quieter Iron & Wine, the fest ended with a rapt crowd abandoning its blankets to stand witness to Welch and David Rawlings. As well they should've: Hers is an American take on bluegrass slow-cooked like no other, her steady voice flirting with the meandering ultra-picking of her career-long partner-in-crime Rawlings through songs the crowd had memorized many times over. (With one exception, of course: “Sweet Tooth,” a new Rawlings song that is among the funniest, wittiest folk songs I've ever heard tackle the subject of addiction.)

Like any good country performer, Welch took the show to another level with immaculate storytelling between songs, particularly her account of meeting Loretta Lynn a few years back. (Seems a few outfit compliments were passed back and forth, and Lynn lamented that the dress she'd wanted to wear busted a seam when the zipper wouldn't go all the way up. Lynn then deadpanned: “They don't make diet pills like they used'ta.”)

No Depression co-founder Kyla Fairchild came out before evening's end to emphasize that this was, in fact, the “first annual” No Depression Festival—good for 'em! I can only hope the next iteration retains this debut's loose, medium-crowd atmosphere and its keen focus on newcomers, not headliners (and maybe for less than $45 next time, huh?).