It may not carry the aesthetic gravity of the Eiffel Tower looming over last month’s Olympic beach volleyball court, but the Space Needle – about 400 feet shorter than its Parisian cousin for the record – strikes an iconic backdrop for the outdoor stages at Seattle’s Bumbershoot Music & Arts Festival. After a three-year hiatus from 2020 to 2022, a result of COVID and a forfeited AEG contract, this year’s event was the second edition from Seattle-based producer New Rising Sun. Bumbershoot 2024 continued last year’s trend of bringing the festival back to its roots, disavowing mainstream commercialism in favor of indie sounds and, to some degree, indie pricing.
First, a note on how we got here. Los Angeles-based AEG acquired the Bumbershoot contract from a reeling (sorry!) One Reel in 2015 and swiftly turned it into something like new age South Lake Union, a bland corporate front dealing in overpriced schlock. Those AEG iterations were decades removed from Bumbershoot’s origins as a hippie-dippie free event, but tickets over that period – 2015 to 2019 – rose to unprecedented peaks. In 1980, the first year Bumbershoot charged admission, tickets cost $2.50 a pop. By ’92, entry had risen to $9 a day. This trend continued during the One Reel years: $15-25 in 2004, $18-28 in 2005, $35 in 2007.
By 2018, three years into the AEG takeover, 3-day passes ran for a minimum of $220, with a mess of VIP options ticking up to $475 and $775. On the musicality front, headliners included J. Cole, the Chainsmokers, Jack Harlow, and Lil Wayne.
The Space Needle still loomed overhead. But with all due respect to Weezy, the vibes were gone. This was “Bumbershoot” in name only.
To make matters worse, AEG lost money on each successive festival and jettisoned the contract in 2019. Covid followed. Now, over a mere two-year window, New Rising Sun has done an absolutely bang-up remodel. The event has been shortened from the full weekend to a more manageable two-day endeavor. Weekend passes are cheaper by nearly a hundred dollars (more than that, if purchased in advance). Local acts are once again prioritized by bookers. Most importantly, the artist lineup resembles a carefully curated KEXP playlist rather than some random smattering of Spotify chart-toppers.
Seattle artists took the reins early on opening Saturday, with R&B singer PARISALEXA and indie standby Chastity Belt gracing two of the festival’s three outdoor stages. (Vera Project ran a smaller fourth stage.) The day’s local highlight came soon after, as Grammy-nominated Seattle drummer Kassa Overall, a product of the Washington Middle School and Garfield High School jazz programs, led his quartet through some furious rhythmic improvisation and stepped occasionally away from the kit to emcee. Behind him, black and white footage paid homage to various jazz legends. Overall mentioned he’d seen Miles Davis play at Bumbershoot in 1987.
Overall was one of many artists who experimented with genre over the weekend. A little bit jazz, a little bit hip-hop, his performance served as a microcosm for the festival. If New Rising Sun wants to succeed with a multi-stage event like Bumbershoot, the range of genres is key. There wasn’t much metal representation this weekend, and the hip-hop still felt a tad light. But all said and done, the producers booked an eclectic enough mix of styles to bring out the most age-diverse audience at a contemporary Seattle music event. (Folk Life is a lifestyle festival.) Day In-Day Out and Capitol Hill Block Party feel more like college keggers each year – albeit tightly policed ones – and this weekend’s Bumbershoot served as a reminder that young and old can, and in fact should coinhabit. Music being a timeless art and all.
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists handled punk duties on Saturday, playing their 2004 album Shake the Sheets from front to back in honor of its 20th anniversary while dutifully sweating through their clothing. Stanford smarty K. Flay proved one of the day’s more exciting discoveries – at least for this writer – sing-rapping and shadowboxing over heavy drum-guitar beats. The day’s prettiest songs arrived courtesy of Andrew Bird and Madison Cunningham, who covered the 1973 Fleetwood Mac album Buckingham Nicks, with Bird showing that he’s still the world’s greatest whistler.
The sizzling afternoon faded into one of August’s warmest evenings, paving way for surging beer lines and the night’s lone dud, singer-songwriter Lauren Mayberry of Scottish band CHVRCHES, who, citing possible social media comeuppance, aborted “How Not to Drown” at the midway point because the rest of her now-defunct group would be mad at her for playing it. What is this, Yoko Oasis? She followed it up with a Chappell Roan cover that appeared to have been learned, sort of, some half-hour before showtime. No matter. Many attendees by this point were slinking around with hands halfway in their pockets, readying lighters for a bucket list toke at the altar of 90s ganja-rap icons Cypress Hill. They didn’t disappoint. “I Wanna Get High” and “Hits from the Bong” have ascended to immortal anthem status. Who knew?
The night’s main draw – and the weekend’s best set – went to indie rockers Pavement, who played much cleaner than their goof-off reputation suggests while still bantering like idiot high school friends. A product of agro-hub Stockton, California, Pavement is in all likelihood the most influential rock band you’ve never heard of. “In the Mouth of a Desert,” “Grounded,” “The Hexx” and “Shady Lane” cement Steve Malkmus as the Bob Dylan of 90s garage rock.
As typifies multiday festivals, energy ebbed after the initial burst. Sunday was a more laidback affair. Local talent again braved the heat of the day, with excellent late afternoon outings from Jean-Paul Builes’s “tequila funk” supergroup REPOSADO and bartender-turned-media darling Dean Johnson, recently profiled by The Stranger and The Seattle Times. Just over the hill from Johnson’s agreeable country rasp, a more unusual set took place as 71-year-old Kim Gordon, formerly of Sonic Youth, put an industrial spin on her genre-blending 2024 album The Collective. Her quartet looked like extras from Cruel Intentions and had the bizarre energy to match.
Kurl Vile waded through a jangly, catalogue-spanning performance around sunset, after which Sunday’s best sets were delivered back-to-back after dark. First, punk stalwarts Me First and the Gimme Gimmes gave the rockabilly treatment (their specialty) to more than a dozen classics including “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” “I Will Survive” and “Dancing Queen.” Second, British electro-indie whiz James Blake dazzled with overhauled bass synthesizers that seemed to adjust inner-ear pressure. He even dusted off the 2013 hit “Retrograde.”
After the half-decade AEG debacle, Bumbershoot is officially back. It’s not better than ever – a bit pricey; not enough beer selection; you can’t exactly top Miles Davis; etc. – but these two years under New Rising Sun have been a sterling return to form. Yes, occasional motheaten corners still come to light at the Seattle Center. But the campus is overall in agreeable shape. There’s something special about riding the bus downtown to see Pavement beneath the Space Needle, as opposed to driving out to some far-flung destination. And there’s nothing like wandering into the old bathrooms at the Pacific Science Center and learning exactly how much urine a human produces in their lifetime (about 12,000 gallons, I wrote in my notepad, not during the act).
One lesson for Bumbershoot promoters? While festival logistics and sound quality are key, this event has historically centered around artists who don’t take themselves overly seriously. AEG never understood Seattle’s wavelength, and never managed bands that fit the bill. This year’s lineup, featuring slacker icons like Pavement, Kurt Vile, and Cypress Hill, is a credit to the emotional awareness of the bookers at New Rising Sun. Especially over multiple days of summer heat, it helps if the entertainment comes with a side of laughter. Take singer Spike Slawson of Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, who announced before their penultimate number, “This song goes out to a great singer-songwriter and a pretty decent pilot, John Denver.”
The band hadn’t even played the opening notes of “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” But the audience was already eating it up.
How I miss the original hippie-dippie free event.
Only a minor note, but Buckingham Nicks was pre-Fleetwood Mac. Wish I had seen the Bird/Cunningham show 😉