Alright! Sold out festival! Who wants to wait in some lines! Seriously, though, you forget about the lines until they’re all around your area, and then they own you. We took off Friday evening thinking we were going to beat that Saturday morning rush, get our camp set up, have a nice relaxing night before the festival started. With little traffic you can drive from Seattle to the Gorge in 2 ½ hours. Our trip took 8. The final three hours were spent in gridlock between the freeway exit and the campground, a sea of cars inching forward for hours on end. People were running out of gas, stranded on the shoulder. So, as everyone waited, the parties started in the cars. Guys in goofy hats longboarded between the lines of traffic. There was a car from Alberta with a couch tied to the roof. We began to notice that virtually every car had a Canadian license plate. By the time we made it through the checkpoint at 3 am it became clear that this place was far beyond thunderdome. No one was directing traffic, or making sure cars parked in organized lines, it was just a mad dash for available land. Tent cities were quickly erected in the dark, and everyone in all directions began to collectively let off the steam of sitting for so many hours in such an insufferable line. Stereos blasted from all directions, and at 4:20am a yelling spread like a wave across the campsites. Soon the dawn broke, so we started playing Frisbee, hitting tents and cars with errant throws. A group of Irish set up behind us, blaring house music from their truck, setting up their tent literally on the back of one of our cars. They pulled up chairs to join us and we drank into the morning.

At 8:45am a large group of Nova Scotians began screaming outside my tent. One of them stood on top of an RV, fervently waving the Nova Scotian flag. I think they also have a karaoke machine. The Canadians are everywhere. This appears to be why the festival sold out so fast: the Canadians planned ahead and bought up all the tickets early. You snooze, you lose, Americans!

First off, it should be noted that the mainstage sounds amazing this year. Whoever is doing sound has their game on lockdown, I have never heard that stage sound so good. Shabazz Palaces sounded particularly great from up on the hill; their sparse beats seemed to reverberate perfectly from the stage up through the crowd. Being able to watch the a close-up of Ish playing his sampler on the jumbo screens was a nice added bonus. Minus the Bear also sounded great on the mainstage, and got a pretty enthusiastic reaction from the crowd up front. They got everyone to wave their arms back and forth for “Into the Mirror,” the intricacies of which made their way through the hills with perfect clarity. They closed with “Absinthe Party,” which is still after all these years an undeniably feel-good song and perfect for a festival atmosphere.

The comedy tent is set up in a new and improved fashion this year. A giant circus-style tent with a stage inside was set up in one of the open fields, letting people sit comfortable in the grass while they hear some jokes. Moshe Kasher was very amusing and had great pacing, telling acerbic, self deprecating jokes about being a nerdy, gay-looking Jew. Brent Weinbach had an opposite approach, creating big awkward sections were no one laughed, as was his whim. Someone actually yelled “You suck!” through the silence. But then he would break the tension with a hilarious observation, and you’d start to think, “Okay, he’s getting his rhythm now,” and then he would make it even more awkward. He did a pantomime set to smooth jazz of delivering a baby, then taking that baby and delivering an even tinier baby out of it, then delivering a microscopic baby from that one. When I left to go check out the main stage he was interrupting his own joke with an explosion sound played at rapid intervals for well over a minute straight. The tent was (not surprisingly) completely packed for Patton Oswalt, who mixed some classic jokes like “Physics for Poets” and accidentally walking in on an orgy at an open house. He ranted on how much he hates Manhattan, told some “sweatpants adventures,” and was very funny and genuinely stoked to be performing. At the end of his set he threw his all-access wristband in the crowd for a lucky fan, but made them promise they wouldn’t do anything psycho backstage.

Kevin Drew from Broken Social Scene looked just like Russell Brand with his black beanie and big black sunglasses. BSS played a mix of songs from Forgiveness Rock Record as well as previous crowd pleasers like “7/4 (Shoreline).” Their new female vocalist Lisa Lobsinger is great (and incredibly beautiful. I mean, my God. So pretty.), and she shined on their new jam “All to All.” Why? Didn’t sound nearly as good over on the Yeti stage, with Yoni Wolf’s voice EQed all wrong, emphasizing the nasal aspects and putting them way out in the front of the mix. It was tough to hear any of the xylophone stuff Patrick Wolf was doing on drums, all the sounds washing together into a disappointing mush. Still, I’d rather hear them performing while I wait for chicken strips than most other bands.

Next on the mainstage was Vampire Weekend, whom I had no interest in seeing but gave the benefit of the doubt to anyway and was pleasantly surprised. I still don’t really dig what that band is all about, but their songs are super feel-good and people everywhere seemed to be having the time of their lives. “A-Punk” incited an incredible dance party. It’s so hard to get down on something when it’s causing everyone around you to dance with such unabashed glee. I’m by no means a convert, but Vampire Weekend succeeded in playing a fun, tight set that was easy for everyone to love.

It got cold, and people started shuffling out before My Morning Jacket started. I knew beforehand that people regard MMJ’s live sets with some high esteem, but I was only familiar with their newest record, of which I only really liked a couple of songs. I’ve got to say, it’s awesome having your expectations completely exceeded. My Morning Jacket blew my mind. They are the ideal band for an amphitheater - they’ve got every spectacle you could want from a huge rock show: thunderous, driving rock, Americana vibes, an absolute animal of a drummer, stunning vocal harmonies, and perhaps the best vocalist I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing with my own ears. Jim James can do things with his voice that puts virtually every other rock vocalist to shame. Chills upon chills. Up on the hill, songs like “Touch Me I’m Going to Scream” and “Golden” were all-encompassing walls of beautiful sound, James’ flawless falsetto warming the frigid air with every amazing note. They jammed to the fullest extent, building huge, satisfying climaxes and ethereal, reverb soaked chill-outs. Despite the puzzling inclusion of the unfortunately stupid song “Highly Suspicious,” it was easily the best set I have seen from any headliner at Sasquatch. The bar has been set by My Morning Jacket. We’ll see if anyone else at the festival is capable of those kind of fireworks.

(More My Morning Jacket photos after the jump.)