The third annual Free Press Summerfest once again took over Houston’s Eleanor Tinsley Park, boasting one of its most diverse, if not unusual lineup to date. Soul-revival met with electric revival, heavy metal battled with Japanese garage rock, hippies and hipsters shared barbecue and beer, etc, all underneath the blistering Texas sun on a cloudless day. weworemasks was on hand, as always, to take part in the festivities, enjoy an act or two, and get down and dirty (and sweaty) with all of our lovely Houstonian brethren.

Hit the jump for a full recap with some awesome photos, more of which can be seen in our Summerfest Photo Gallery, here.

– sunbear + grizzly

Starting my day off with Houston’s own Los Skarnales’ Latin-infused ska, I surveyed the MUCH expanded Summerfest. Having ballooned from a measly two stage festival to the current eight stages with vendors till the horizon, Summerfest had certainly gotten popular, not just with music-lovin’ folk, but all Houstonians in general.  Dirty hipsters, dirtier hippies, inappropriately dressed high school kids, food truck weirdos, heck, your mom was probably there. So many people united under one sweltering hot Texas sun coming together for one purpose: to complain about the heat.

photo credit: breakfastontour

I want to clear something up right off the bat. Not that I don’t love or appreciate Bun B, but he’s become quite the nuisance around these parts. Artists from across the country come to Houston and play shows, and like clockwork, plan a “surprise” visit from Bun B. It’s not exciting when you expect it. That being said, it’s much more than your standard “Let Me See It” performance when Bun B hits a high-profile stage like Summerfest. With the enigmatic hometown hero charisma that he’s always boasted, King Bun shines on a stage of his own, recalling old UGK favorites and solo bangers alike.

photo credit: breakfastontour

We were lucky enough to catch General Patton this past SXSW, so it’s almost a ‘bonus prize’ situation we’ve got here. As one of the main draws to the relentless summer heat, Big Boi hit the stage like the finessed and slick talking rap veteran that he is, cataloging his days with Outkast and shedding light on his Sir Lucious material in the process. Never take Big Boi for granted, as he is clearly the workhorse of Outkast and these days comes much more appreciated than his partner in rhyme. Big Boi commands the stage and is a master of setlisting. Yeah, it’s an adverb now.

Over on the Budweiser stage (seriously Summerfest, you’ve got to move that thing closer to the action next year), the Japanese superhero group known as Peelander-Z were turning that mother out. Tagging-in complete crowd randoms to play their instruments, the colorful Z-team battled and bowled with a giant red squid and put some fancy  wrestling finishing moves on him. You’ve seen Power Rangers? That, set to nonsense Japanese rock.

Spending the entirety of his whirlwind set moshing in the crowd, Fucked Up’s Damian Abraham was a volatile, fleshy wrecking ball. The rest of the Canadian hardcore band manned their respective stations on-stage, playing songs from their latest rock opera David Comes to Life, but all eyes were on the impassioned Abraham, his face wrapped taut in his mic cord, growling viciously in the ears of all his fans; by far the most aggressive set of the entire festival.

Adept at a sprawling array of instruments, Beirut’s Zach Condon brought his brand of pastoral euro-folk to an adoring Summerfest crowd. From accordion to ukulele to flügelhorns, Condon’s band built a rich, dramatic soundscape recalling eastern Europe for Condon’ sincere croon and impressionistic lyrics. Pretentious? If you don’t count Condon’s faux-British accent, then no.

The ultimate cosmic goof of the 90’s, Ween came out in a druggy haze of fog, so overly dramatic, you’d think last year’s headliners The Flaming Lips were back for round 2. Kicking off with prog-rock extravaganza, “Buckingham Green,” Gene Ween sounded exceptionally trippy, utilizing a multitude of silly voices to freak us all out. Fan favorites “Bananas and Blow” and “Wavin’ My Dick in the Wind” were played, all with the irreverent whimsy of a band refusing to ever play it straight. The set was as demented as it was gleeful and left many Summerfest goers scratching their heads, wondering what the hell they just witnessed. Classic Ween.

photo credit: greggiant.

Day Two brought us a kick-off set from weworemasks friendlies The Niceguys. No stranger to making new fans, I noticed a slew (I want to say 30-40) additional heads stop dead in their tracks to catch up with the Niceguys and their early morning set time of 12:45. While putting on for The Show, the fellas braved the high-noon heat and won over many new faces in the process.

I can say with great confidence that my (Grizzly) most personally anticipated act of this year’s Summerfest was Ms. Sharon Jones and her lovely cohorts, the Dap Kings. Decked out in full two-piece suits (every last one of them), the Dap Kings proved to be the most sartorially and soulfully satisfying performance of the entire festival. Sharon Jones is unaffected by the heat, and her voice was flawless in nearly every performance, the bulk of which highlighted her 2010 album, I Learned the Hard Way.

If any band fell casualty to the 100+ degree Texas heat, it was Yeasayer. The band held up strong for the majority of their multicultural-jam set, regaling us with new, unreleased music, as well as performing Odd Blood staples like the nightclub friendly “O.N.E” and the genre-mashing “Tightrope.” But by the set-ending “Ambling Alp,” singer Chris Keating was doubled over, a deluge of sweat pouring out. Indie gods bless you, Yeasayer, for braving the elements. Hope you found that pool and TV to watch the Mavs game like you wanted.

Nothing brings us dance club-happy hipsters back like a little Chromeo. Even better, songs from Chromeo’s 2007 breakthrough Fancy Footwork. Lucky for us, the swaggerific Canadian duo brought just that. The cartoonishly smooth Dave 1, was as enigmatic as ever, swiveling around to the glossy tunes of his band’s catalog, stylish as he was slick. Chromeo’s other half, P-Thugg, in his NBA jersey and Pittsburgh fitted (it’s a ‘P,’ get it?) was a multi-tasker, transitioning seamlessly between keyboards, bass guitar,  and robot voiced talk box.  If funky sexy good times is your thing, and whose isn’t, then Chromeo delivered in spades.

And the “Most Commanding Presence Award” goes to Australia’s Cut Copy. Conducting the Summerfest masses with grand, sweeping arm gestures, pitch-perfect singer/keyboardist Dan Whitford was out to give a sermon on electro pop. With the blistering sun finally setting,  Cut Copy finished off the last bit of daylight with a breezy set of sensual summer dance anthems that had the entire crowd jumping in time to tunes like “Lights and Music” and “Need You Now.” You had to have been dead to not been dancing to Cut Copy.

The initial groan of contempt for headliners Weezer that Summerfest goers certainly had were silenced by the familiar snare hits of “Undone (The Sweater Song.)” Currently on their Blinkerton Tour supporting the two albums that Weezer fans hold dearest, Weezer unleashed their vintage Blue monster upon Houston, performing 8 of the album’s 10 classic songs, while sprinkling a gratifying greatest hits set in between. The nostalgic “Island in the Sun” shared time with the endearing “Perfect Situation,” while the banal “Beverly Hills” was nowhere to be seen. Rivers Cuomo, having lent lead guitar duties to drummer Pat Wilson (who himself had drummer extraordinaire Josh Freese as his substitute), was a nerdy tangle off a.d.d., white boy dance moves, and childlike wonder. Whether it was using an uprooted Summerfest fixture as a prop (giant mushroom, ya’ll), or manning a water cannon, or cheerfully kicking a soccer ball around the stage, Cuomo was a freewheeling mess, doing as he pleased while his band rocked on. And the less guitar work he had to do, the more into the songs he seemed to be. All of Summerfest’s energy had found it’s way into the iconic frontman, so when he gleefully sprayed concert goers with torrents of pressurized water, a connection was made between rock star and super-fan: we’re all just here to have fun.

Thanks and congratulations on another successful year, Free Press Summerfest. We’re looking forward to next year’s heat-a-thon!