WEDNESDAY

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here… you all know why!” A gentle rain fell while Rachael Price beamed at the audience at Treefort Main Stage. “The beginning of the show is one of the most exciting times to me, because the beginning of the show can only happen right now.”

And that’s how it began Wednesday night at Treefort 2021, a festival twice-moved and nearly cancelled again. 

After a summer of very few events and in the middle of a massive COVID surge, the pre-Fort (hah, get it?) attitude was a little uncertain, but all of that uncertainty faded as soon as the music started. Price, vocalist for jam/funk/country outfit Lake Street Drive, was clearly overwhelmed with joy, channeling that energy straight into the crowd. 

Just adjacent to the main stage, Alefort hawked $15 beers to fans in sequins and feathers. Music came from every corner as people rubbed shoulders on their way to see new bands. After 18 months of hearing these things weren’t allowed, it was almost strange to see them come back so easily. 

Later at The Hideout, one of the many outdoor stages this year, Chris King & The Gutterballs shuffled onstage. King remarked, “It’s lovely to see all of you. Yesterday when we got here, it was a ghost town.” With charisma to spare and an outlaw’s cowboy hat, King (and co.) wasted no time, showing off a hard-hitting and energetic brand of rootsy Americana rock. The outdoor crowd at the venue (pretty much just a parking lot next to a restaurant) grew with each croon of King’s voice. As the band slowed down for ballad “Lost On a Highway,” the audience swayed along. 

THURSDAY

Thursday brought sunshine which, barring a few pesky clouds, held the rest of the weekend. It was hot — my Uber driver remarked on the nice weather. Thankfully, my first show of the day was inside. Smokey Brights, festival indie-folk darlings, were glowing as they took the stage. “We are so happy to be here at one of the coolest record stores in the world!” said frontman Ryan Devlin. Looking around, it was hard to disagree with him — The Record Exchange has made a name for itself as a well-stocked, thoughtfully curated musical landmark in the city. It was the shop’s first in-store performance since March 2020. 

The band dedicated  “Save Us Sarah,” a delightfully anthemic cut from their 2020 album I Love You But Damn, to the new owners of The Record Exchange. 

The main stage saw very few Seattle acts, but it was the center of the festival action. A giant pink praying mantis approached during Prism Bitch’s set, to which the Albuquerque synth punk band remarked, “What a lovely lady!” Hours later, Japanese Breakfast, arguably the biggest name on the festival lineup, delivered a tightly composed set of new tracks from 2021’s Jubilee”on the same stage. The band barely stopped for breath, with ringleader Michelle Zauner pausing to speak only a few times. “I wouldn’t have learned to play guitar without Doug Martsch,” she said, thanking Built to Spill — Boise legends who had just left the stage. The audience lightly cheered. 

I moseyed from the technicolor main stage to The Shredder — an arcade bar a few blocks away. The LED sign outside was glitching out, leaving the name of the venue indecipherable. Inside, horror movie decorations hung from the ceiling, and a sign above the stage read a very simple platitude: FUCK. It was the perfect venue to see Black Ends, a self-described Seattle “gunk pop” group. The floor filled quickly with a small but ardent group of fans screaming along. After the first song, frontperson Nicolle Swims shouted, “I’m turning my amp up!” and the crowd shrieked in joy. It was the first Treefort show I found myself reaching for earplugs. Long live rock and roll. 

Walking back to my motel, I passed someone drunkenly singing “You Can Call Me Al.”

FRIDAY

The crowd drifted at the main stage, some leaving for food, others checking their phones. Haley Heynderickx played very quietly to an enthusiastic semi-circle of fans, almost flinching at their cheering when she introduced “The Bug Collector.” Directly after, Andy Shauf (I overhead a passing fest-goer describe Shauf’s stage presence as “warm molasses”) plodded through songs from his new record, Wilds.

A few steps away, Oh, Rose was setting up at Radioland — one of the new outdoor stages required by COVID protocol this year — just adjacent to the main stage and the food trucks. The foot traffic wandered right through whatever crowd gathered. Oh, Rose seemed unfazed by this. Olivia Rose, namesake and bandleader, went from a gentle, glassy Beth Gibbons melisma to full-on Carrie Brownstein shrieking, letting loose a few surprise guttural screams. “This is a love song. It’s called ‘The Flu,’ ” she laughed. “It seems appropriate for these times.” 

Julia Massey, Seattle music scene veteran and bundle of joy, began her show with Warren Dunes with an explanation: “I’m a special education teacher, so I’m going to keep my mask on!” She spoke to the power and value of teachers, and added, “If you’re a teacher, you’re welcome to a free CD or merch item from us.” She laughed, adding, “I guess we’re all teachers in our own way.” Massey and longtime bandmates/brothers Jared and Dominic Cortese launched into a set full of Massey hallmarks. Quirky stories unspooled over children’s song melodies, Massey’s ebullient presence anchoring the whole shebang. Seattle faces filled the room — Shaina Shepherd and Chris King whooped along as Massey grinned.

SATURDAY

The belligerent and excellently named Beverly Crusher blasted through a mid-afternoon set at the Rhodes Skate Park. As a very age-diverse crowd ollied and heel flipped around them, drummer Sam Stiles remarked, “This is surreal.” It looked like a scene out of “Scott Pilgrim,” and it sounded like one too. Bassist Saba Samakar (filling in for Max Stiles) wandered into the crowd a few times. Stiles had a hi hat made of two crash cymbals. “Anyone got a Band-Aid?” asked frontman Cozell Wilson, showing off a cut on one of his fingers. Samakar scanned the ground, pointing to a crusty, dirty bandage on the concrete. “Here’s a Band-Aid!” After finishing their set with “Pearly Gates,” Stiles kicked over his kit, high-fived a skater, and then ran across the park, hopping the fence before disappearing from sight. Punk never dies. 

The rest of Saturday found me sprinting from brewery to brewery. Bodies on the Beach delivered a thoughtful indie-songwriter set at a pub across the Boise River. Later, Tres Leches channeled bilingual angst over intelligent punk chords and a theremin. I returned to the Main Stage just in time to catch producer Chong the Nomad. The only Seattle act to take the Main Stage, she bounced on and shouted: “If there’s one thing I know about Boise, it’s that y’all know how to get the fuck down!” 

Over at Reef, Shaina Shepherd glowed, figuratively and literally. Her red leather fringe jacket reflected the lights at the venue, a dingy upstairs tiki bar in downtown. Happy patrons buzzed in their booths. Sound issues delayed the show significantly, and Shepherd stopped a few times mid-set to troubleshoot her keyboard and vocal. Her resulting set was only about 30 minutes, but that did nothing to diminish the energy in the room. As she closed with her 2020 single “The Virus,” she shouted, “Before we leave, we’re all gonna get vaccinated!” 

SUNDAY

As this was my first Treefort, it’s hard to offer any statement in summation of the experience. I wandered through my final shows on Sunday, simply feeling grateful to be at such a unique festival. Small stages and local vendors abounded alongside big names. The lack of major corporate branding and the focus on environmental sustainability was remarkable. Treefort certainly stands apart. While I heard whispers from locals about it being smaller than usual and a little less joyful due to COVID restrictions, I didn’t pick up on any of that. After almost two years away from live music and festivals, being back among familiar trappings was sacred. 

As I walked back to my motel Sunday night, I waved at passing strangers and they waved back. Music echoed faintly from the main stage. Crickets chirped in nearby hedges, and the stars twinkled. I woke up for my flight the next morning feeling grateful I got to spend a week in the City of Trees. ‘Til next time.