• Dagmar Sieglinde
• The Dutchess & the Duke

Caught the first few songs by Dutchess & the Duke in Exhibition Hall; they were the epitome of pleasantness. Instantly charming male/female guitar/vocal folk/rock, with a bonus dude on tambourine and maracas, they sounded intimate and warm, even in the worst music venue in the history of music venues. D & the D joked that they'd never played such a long set before, so they told the paltry crowd that they'd have to play all of their songs really slowly... and twice. Then the Duke sang in a simulated dying-battery deep slur. I laughed.

Then I hightailed it to KEXP's Bumbershoot Lounge in a very special, secret location to catch Holy Fuck. They proceeded to lay down the sort of supercharged, 21st-century motorik-fueled krautrock that has convinced me they're one of the greatest live acts in the world right now. Consisting of four ordinary-looking geeks on drums, bass, and two FX-laden analog synths, Holy Fuck didn't say a word to the crowd; they simply stunned it with no-nonsense brilliance.

They started with a track that turned Can's "Mother Sky" into "Motherfucking Sky," then psychedelicized and accelerated Wire's "Lowdown" into a dilatory jam that I hated to see end. The next track was downtempo, bleep-intensive interstellar funk that I hated to see end. The next track featured the flannel-shirted guy singing vowels and manipulating them into a ghostly chorale while the other gents brewed a brooding storm in heaven. I hated to see it end. The fifth track featured a nimble, bubbly bass line and exuded kozmeesh deesco vibrations. "Super Inuit" was a frightfully, orgasmically intense motorik flame-out during which we got to see the bassist's O face. The green laser of ecstasy that lit up Gang Gang Dance's gig yesterday also reappeared, to dazzling effect. The seventh and last song boasted more of that neo-Neu! propulsion, as the bassist used his instrument to mimic a wind machine. Awesomeness compounded by awesomeness. This was the fest's best set. And I was as sober as a judge. Damn.

• Dagmar Sieglinde
• U.S.E

Over at the Broad Street Stage, U.S.E sounded ridiculously muted, as if they were being broadcast on a distant AM radio station. Really, the sound was scandalously poor. Still, the Seattle septet's effervescent, sunshiny dance pop managed to evoke Daft Punk hopped up on uppers and the best god energy faith can buy. But I sure hope the Broad Street Stage folk sort out the atrocious fidelity before Holy Fuck's 7:45 pm slot.

(Plan your Bumbershoot agenda here. Read about every blessed act playing the festival here.)