To supplement Eric's post on his Decibel highlights, here are some of mine from days 3 and 4, written in serious post-fest hangover mode.

Sat. Sept. 26 Sole Repair

Spacetime Continuum (aka Jonah Sharpe): When I arrived, he was in the midst of some slate-gray Arctic ambience that was incongruous with the sunny 70º weather. Gradually, he let in some gently undulant rhythms, and things got narcotic and subaquatic, like Basic Channel on Quaaludes. Things became very beautiful near the end with a muted, melancholy guitar motif spangling above the frigid, stolid tower of dub rhythm. Overall, Sharpe crafted timeless, classic chill-in music.

Sat. Sept. 26 Neumos

Nosaj Thing achieved a brilliant balance between elegant melodies and rugged, glitchy rhythms (and weirdness and accessibility) with his hiphop of the near future (I predict he’s really going to blow up in 2010). His set had incredible dynamics, changing up every 45 seconds or so, but not in a jarring or annoying way.

Megasoid (aka Sixtoo, left-field hiphop producer renowned for his recordings on Ninja Tune, Vertical Form, and anticon.) peddled some chunky, gritty business, somewhere between ruffneck dancehall and glitch-hop. It was alpha-male bass music done with great finesse.

Daedelus—only caught about five minutes of his performance, but it seemed more manic and visceral than the previous times I’ve caught him. His sideburns and threads are still amazing, by the way.

Big regret: missed Mary Anne Hobbs. Many folks I spoke to raved about her brutal dubstep selections, although one notable local DJ said she was awful. He was in the distinct minority, though.

(More reviews after the cut.)

Sat. Sept. 26 Sole Repair

Struggle continued to prove why he’s one of Seattle’s top DJs with flawless mixing technique and deep, soulful selections of tracks that dwelled in the nebulous zone between techno and house. It seems as if he’s gone off the dubstep material by which he initially made his reputation, but if that decision results in sets like this one at Decibel, I can easily get over that loss.

San Francisco's Dave Aju was so tight, he made me miss Hobbs. His masterly, quirky techno productions kept the crowd moving while making the producers in the house envious.

Sat. Sept. 26 Church of Bass

Martyn and Move D’s DJ sets trawled the heavily psychedelic end of the techno and dubstep spectra. Again, just entering CoB makes me feel like Albert Hoffman’s problem child, so details remain murky. All I know is that Move D slightly edged Martyn with overall danceability and psychotropic stimulation, but it was merely a silicon chip’s width.

Sun. Sept. 27 Seattle Asian Art Museum

Christina Vantzou: caught the last 20 minutes of her slot, entering the hall to hear a sanctified, vaporous drone inducing an ultimate state of calm. Subdued, churchy organ, distant airplane engine thrum, gentle susurrations, and bass murmur coalesced into a Stars of the Lid/Dead Texan-type (the latter group of which she’s a member) bliss-scape. Vantzou evoked a profound emotional impact from the wispiest of elements.

Sun. Sept. 27 Volunteer Park

Gaslamp Killer (William Bensussen) was the polar opposite of Vantzou. A hyper-animated Tasmanian Devil on the decks, the LA-based phenom moves through genres at a rapid rate, like a surreal jukebox stocked by a futurist who’s also extremely knowledgeable about music history. But he also added turntable tricks, dramatic pauses, comedic interjections on the mic, track announcements and commentary, and articulate body language and interpretative dances making GLK as entertaining to watch as he is to listen to. (Seriously, I’ve never seen such an animated DJ in my life.)

He started with a more beat-oriented version of Art of Noise’s “Moments in Love” and then moved to wildly around the spectrum, touching on Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer,” Pharoahe Monch’s “Simon Says,” Company Flow’s “The Fire in Which You Burn,” Danny Breaks, Eprom, Take, J Dilla, Turkish psych from 1976, and something that sounded like it came from the Hungarian funk comp Well Hung (it had the fattest drum sounds and fuzziest bass tones ever). Playing Jimi Hendrix’s “Fire” and then busting into a monstrous dubstep wobbler right when the guitar solo was going to start was a brilliant tease—and indicative of GLK’s DJ style of abrupt era jump cuts and radical genre juxtapositions, and having them make a strange kind of sense against great odds. GLK ended with an amazing piece that sounded like a motorcycle engine revving up and an absurdly relaxed and saccharine Hawaiian lounge instrumental. Afterward, the crowd cheered and then rushed the stage for stickers and mix CDs. GLK later told me he gave away all 100 stickers and sold all 30 of the CDs he brought with him. We must bring him back for a proper club gig soon.

Sun. Sept. 27 Neumos

Dressed in a parka and donning shades, Jerry Abstract rose to the occasion with a vengeance, throwing down rough, dark techno that was both girthful and kinetic, as he pushed the subwoofers to their limits. The local producer was playing as if he wanted to upstage the acts above him—and then he knocked his laptop off its stand. After a few minutes' delay, Abstract came back with the most straight-up accessible dance track I've heard him play, although it was still haunting and riddled with odd wood/metal percussion. This was definitely one of Jerry’s finest sets, the culmination of hours of hard work in the lab.

Tim Exile was a charming headfuck of an act. Somewhat like Jamie Lidell, he used his voice as a rhythm instrument while cranking out chaotic, noisy IDM with detours into Squarepusher-style drill & bass and Max Tundra-esque prog pop. Exile entered goofyland often, both musically and with his between-song banter. “This is a song about you by you”; “I sound like I’m in Fawlty Towers,don't I?”; This is the part where I come out to eat you. You’re all my children now.” Yikes. Exile put on one of the fest’s most memorable and divisive shows; people either loved it or were very perplexed—and sometimes both at once.

Reagenz (Jonah Sharpe & Move D) followed Exile’s madness with a cool-headed display of subliminally seductive techno. It was smooth but eminently groovy and subtly mind-altering. I’d no idea these guys were working together again, but even if some of the material came from the mid ’90s, shit still sounded fresh, even (especially) the schaffel track.

Alter Ego made so much sense as the closer-outers of Decibel. The German duo brought super-sized, extroverted techno that eventually bypassed fever pitch and ended up putting our sanity in the emergency ward. It was climaximalist dance music at its most potent, sometimes verging on gimmicky, but so ultimately anthemic, they made the fatigued festival-goers feel like super heroes by 12:45 am. I hope someone was recording the last half of Alter Ego’s set, so its essence can be bottled and sold for mood-elevating purposes; the human race sure could benefit from it.

From my perspective, Decibel 2009 kicked as much ass as the last three editions did—which is saying volumes at top volume. It was actually too much of a great thing, as I know I missed some amazing performances due to not having the ability to be in two/three places at once. Must remedy that for the future.

Sean Horton—who, on top of running this world-class event, married Diana Smith Sunday morning at Volunteer Park; congrats to you both!—and his stellar crew of volunteers deserve a thunderous round of applause.